Dying to be Thin

One week later,

And I’ve made it home,

Even with Belle dropping hints as heavy as my thighs,

About my whispered confession,

At every meal I don’t eat.

I survived though,

Well Belle anyway.

Ana is a different story.

I haven’t eaten in three days,

But the number on the scale,

Refuses to reduce.

It’s like Belle sent some fat home with me.

I could see,

During the final days of my visit,

Just how much we’ve changed.

Her hair,

Is darker and thicker than ever,

Like a shining waterfall of chocolate down her back.

While mine has become washed out,

And thin.

A mere echo of its former glory.

Not to mention the handful,

That detaches whenever I run a brush or hand through it.

She’s a good three inches shorter,

And at least twenty pounds heavier,

Than I am.

We used to be mistaken for twins.

Anyone that saw us now,

Would know we’re not.

Especially,

Because Ana,

Would never let me go past 120.

If anything,

Seeing Belle,

Strengthened Ana.

I don’t care if it hurts.

I want to have control.

I want a perfect body.

I want a perfect soul.

Ana reminds me,

My voice blending in with hers,

Whenever I get near the kitchen.