Cadaverous
June
Good friends go shopping together. They analyze what color brightens your eyes, or what shirt makes your breasts look amazing. Good friends also tell other friends when those delicious four hundred forty calorie Burger King French fries should be the last thing they put in their mouth.
“Are you sure you wanna eat that?”
My friend and I share this. We bond in this way. When our munchies kick in we sit in the kitchen counting calories aloud to one another, debating what is worth to snack on and what isn't. Then as we give up, the holy gin/whiskey mixed with diet Pepsi finds its way snuggled into our arms. It's enough to hold off the hunger.
“I think you look amazing. Unlike me,” My friend, Bailey, starts off as we return to her room. Already we have taken a few shots of random liquor and feel a good buzz. “My thighs are huge.” She slaps them in frustration. The television is on in the background. We were scoping out a new hit show about a bunch of high school girls and their lame drama.
A pretty, petite blond goes for a cookie, but only gets a slap on the hand from the other Barbie blond. “Honey, are you sure you want to eat that?” The cookie-grabber looks down at her hands in shame while the Barbie blond looks smug and thin. Bitch.
“Next time I go to eat something, ask me that. Alright?” Our gazes finally return to the mirror where we stand in front of.
I nod like a good friend would. I know she would do the same for me, despite her comment about my body being amazing. It's far from it. It's not as beautiful as bones are. Not yet.
“I need to lose at least five pounds before senior banquet.” She continues to talk, and I let her. This is the closest I've ever talked to anyone about this. Ever. It's sort of the topic you wouldn't want people to know about.
“What do you do for fun?”
“Oh you know, starve myself and shove fingers down my throat till I spew.”
“You wanna know something?” I'm testing my limits. My fists are banging on this cage wall. “I find the fastest way is to stop eating.” My insides twist hearing myself say this. How horrible, how fucked up I must truly be. This yearning has turned me into a monster.
She nods, though and agrees. “I'm about ready to.” We talk about eating habits, and work out routines are swapped in the process of this as well. Is this what average teenage girls are supposed to talk about? How it's disgusting if you puke after drinking too much water? Or how you ate a few cupcakes and didn't want to think about how they would look cute on your ass that you vomited at a friends birthday party?
Yes. It is exactly what we do.
“Are you sure you wanna eat that?”
My friend and I share this. We bond in this way. When our munchies kick in we sit in the kitchen counting calories aloud to one another, debating what is worth to snack on and what isn't. Then as we give up, the holy gin/whiskey mixed with diet Pepsi finds its way snuggled into our arms. It's enough to hold off the hunger.
“I think you look amazing. Unlike me,” My friend, Bailey, starts off as we return to her room. Already we have taken a few shots of random liquor and feel a good buzz. “My thighs are huge.” She slaps them in frustration. The television is on in the background. We were scoping out a new hit show about a bunch of high school girls and their lame drama.
A pretty, petite blond goes for a cookie, but only gets a slap on the hand from the other Barbie blond. “Honey, are you sure you want to eat that?” The cookie-grabber looks down at her hands in shame while the Barbie blond looks smug and thin. Bitch.
“Next time I go to eat something, ask me that. Alright?” Our gazes finally return to the mirror where we stand in front of.
I nod like a good friend would. I know she would do the same for me, despite her comment about my body being amazing. It's far from it. It's not as beautiful as bones are. Not yet.
“I need to lose at least five pounds before senior banquet.” She continues to talk, and I let her. This is the closest I've ever talked to anyone about this. Ever. It's sort of the topic you wouldn't want people to know about.
“What do you do for fun?”
“Oh you know, starve myself and shove fingers down my throat till I spew.”
“You wanna know something?” I'm testing my limits. My fists are banging on this cage wall. “I find the fastest way is to stop eating.” My insides twist hearing myself say this. How horrible, how fucked up I must truly be. This yearning has turned me into a monster.
She nods, though and agrees. “I'm about ready to.” We talk about eating habits, and work out routines are swapped in the process of this as well. Is this what average teenage girls are supposed to talk about? How it's disgusting if you puke after drinking too much water? Or how you ate a few cupcakes and didn't want to think about how they would look cute on your ass that you vomited at a friends birthday party?
Yes. It is exactly what we do.