Jordan Dupuis was 11 years old when his mother, worried about the signs of depression present in her son, took him to see a pediatrician. Over the previous months, the boy had gained a lot of weight, which, in addition to earning him mockery and insults in the schoolyard, prevented him from attending several auditions to which his little brothers were invited.
The doctor’s solution? Send Jordan to Sainte-Justine, so that he can undergo liposuction on both breasts and regain his confidence. “When I think about it, this “solution” proposed by my pediatrician at the time is at the heart of my body image disorder,” writes the main person involved in the biographical book Kill the Ogre.
Anguished by all the changes taking place in his body as he approaches adolescence, Jordan Dupuis develops an eating disorder — binge eating disorder — which pushes him to consume excessive amounts of food.
At the dawn of his twenties, despite two liposuctions and a total mastectomy, Jordan Dupuis weighs nearly 350 pounds. In the hope of getting his life back on track, he underwent bariatric surgery, which significantly reduced the volume of his stomach. However, the operation is far from being a success. Inside, the hunger continues to want to fill the abysmal void that is hollowing out within him.
A painful and cathartic process
Ultimately, it was therapy that gave Jordan Dupuis the chance to identify the eating disorder that was eating away at him and to begin the long healing process that allowed him to establish a healthy relationship with food and, above all, to learn to love yourself, beyond physical appearance.
Joined by THE Duty, the host and columnist struggles to put his finger on what pushed him to pick up pen and paper to share his story with the world. “I felt like I had to write to forgive myself first and foremost, but also to forgive the society I grew up in that caused this body image disorder. I wanted to say thank you to the people whose kindness, support and love saved me. I also wanted to offer certain keys to understanding to parents, give them a different point of view, destigmatize my words, make peace with a lot of things, tell teenagers that five years of secondary school are not going to define the rest of their lives. »
The writing process, which spanned nearly two years, proved as painful as it was cathartic for the author. “I naively thought I was going to do this like any other gig, take my Ritalin and my coffee and sit down between noon and three to write a book. I talked so much about my disorder from a service angle, but here I couldn’t explain why I was forcing myself to dive back into it, why I was digging up wounds when I love the man that I am. became. I had to seek counseling early in the process to understand that I was like a Russian doll and that I still had a lot of things to sort out. With this book, I close one chapter to begin another. »
To the source
Jordan Dupuis draws on his memories — from the most banal to the darkest — to try to identify the source of his disorder and the events, insults or injuries that contributed to fueling it over time. He recounts the bullying, the passive-aggressive comments that made him realize his weight way too early, the medical fatphobia and the desperate attempts of his mother — who even turned to homeopathy — to annihilate his weight. gluttony. He also returns to “the junk drawer”, in his parents’ bedroom, which contained and placed chocolates, candies, chips and other treats on a pedestal.
“When I was little, I didn’t understand why, in my friends’ fridge, there was a can of Joe Louis next to apples, bananas and juice, and that no one messed with that. I’m not a psychologist specializing in eating disorders, but I had to learn to trivialize these foods. At home, I no longer hide junk. They serve outside of a festive framework or suffering. I understand a parent’s reflex to want to offer the best to their child, but these foods exist and are not going to stop existing. We must therefore serve them through a range of other things and educate according to what we observe. »
For the author, the hyperphagic attack which has tormented him since childhood is not unrelated to the shame and the aura of secrecy which have long surrounded his homosexuality. “I come from a family of three boys. Very early on, I was confronted with a sporting and gendered masculinity to which I did not correspond. I loved dressing up and playing princesses. I never felt like I had the right to exist the way I wanted to in my gender expression. I lived this feeling of being different in silence, until I ate it. »
Through his story, written in a random order following the twists and turns of his thoughts, Jordan Dupuis devotes entire chapters to thanking those — starting with his mother — who were essential to his healing process. In certain sections, he even gives the floor to his friend the actress Jessica Barker and to the plastic surgeon Michèle Tardif, who performed her reconstructive surgery following her stomach operation. “It was a way for me to give back, to tell them what a wonderful impact they had on my life.” Through their words, I hope to provide keys to discussion, understanding, another perspective on the ogre that hides in each of us. »
Today, Jordan Dupuis weighs 185 pounds, feels good in his skin and is happier than ever; a state of mind which, however, has nothing to do with the numbers that appear on the scale. “If I could erase all the health problems I’ve had since bariatric surgery and be sixty pounds heavier, I’d sign any day. I think it’s still really important that my body reflects the person I want to be. Cosmetic surgery should never be a way to gain external validation, but only a way to make yourself feel good. Today, I am relearning everything: intimacy, reciprocity, agency. I’m having fun, I’m reliving it sweet sixteen that I have never experienced. I know that my achievements are fragile and I work every day to lead the life I want to lead. I hope my story will help others take the same journey. »