Not Enough
Pretty.
I looked in the full length mirror on the back of my bedroom door, poking my stomach. Fat. Fat, fat,fat. I'd never be skinny enough. I moved into the bathroom, stepping on the small white scale. It beeped for a moment before showing a perfect 90 on the screen. I sighed, I'd been trying for 80 for two weeks.
"That's it." I whispered staring at myself in the mirror, "No more cake. Even if I throw it up, I still ate it. And I'm gonna run more, every night. In fact, I should go, right now." I said firmly before walking out of the bathroom and grabbing the coat on my bed and leaving the room.
The downstairs was quiet, everyone was already asleep when I walked out the door and into the cold night air. I started off on a nice run, my pace faster then last time even though I could feel my body was weaker. I hadn't eaten anything without throwing it up in more then four months and it was working. I'd lost 60 punds and was looking almost skinny. My small 5'3 frame could definitely look better if I lost ten pounds.
I stopped and gasped, leaning against the stop light pole catching my breath as I pushed the button to cross. I had already ran a mile in six minutes, faster then I had before, and wanted to get another one in before I went home, but it was late and around here shady people would start to come out soon.
Why my parents moved us to a neighborhood full of drugees was beyond me, and how my school was full of the prettiest and preppiest people I'd ever seen was even more over my head. I thought about Cathrynn while I ran, how perfect she was and how I could be that perfect if I just lost some more weight.
I rolled into a full out sprint as soon as the light told me I could cross, my legs feeling stronger then ever as Cathrynn's words popped into my head from last year. "Fat. Slut. Worthless." I'd heard it all from the popular group last year, and realized they were right just recently.
They hadn't really bothered me since I started looking better but I knew I wasn't good enough despite the comments about how "amazing" I looked now. I rounded the corner and turned around, my long ponytail flying back and hitting me in the face causing me to spit out hair as I ran back to my house.
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I crept quietly into the house, making sure not to wake anyone up as I tiptoed up the stairs and into my room, closing the door and turning the radio on low. I looked at my mirror and smiled seeing the sweat on my face. I did good, I'd be perfect soon.
I crawled into bed after turning on the lights, a smile on my face.
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I looked around the white room I sat in, the beeping and othe ordinary hospital noises rang in my ears. I looked down at myself, the gown was too loose and my stomach was small. I sighed and a tear slid down my cheek as the sickening feeling came to my stomach again.
I'd gone overboard, past my goal, I dropped all the way to 70 pounds before last week when I passed out in the kitchen and was rushed here. I still couldn't eat anything really without throwing it back up, but the fluids they had me hooked up too kept me alive. I had three visits from kids from school, wanting to hear my story, why I was here, why I had starved myself, and had been told countless times by nurses and doctors how dangerous what I had been doing was.
"Your stomach literally caved in, you wouldn't have had a stomach if your mother didn't bring you in when she did. You had been starving yourself so much your stomach was empty, and looked like it had been for a while. You're lucky you didn't die." The doctor said the first day I arrived in the hospital.
The last visit I got before was the worst. Cathrynn and her crew showed up to my room, and smiled. Cathrynn started telling me how she was so sad I had gotten put into this room, and I felt good, I was being accepted. Until she laughed a cold laugh and stared hard at me.
"But then again, only an idiot would starve herself. Come on guys, let's go." She said before walking out of the room. A tear slid down my cheek and I sat up in the bed. When I got home I'd eat. I'd force myself too, I had to get bigger.
This cycle was killing me, but I could stop it this time. I'd just add a few pounds, and stop when I hit eighty, even though the doctor insisted even 90 seemed to small, I wouldn't push it. I'd just eat until I hit 80.
I had to be beautiful, I needed them to accept me. I needed to know I wasn't worthless, I wasn't ugly or fat. I would be perfect.
"That's it." I whispered staring at myself in the mirror, "No more cake. Even if I throw it up, I still ate it. And I'm gonna run more, every night. In fact, I should go, right now." I said firmly before walking out of the bathroom and grabbing the coat on my bed and leaving the room.
The downstairs was quiet, everyone was already asleep when I walked out the door and into the cold night air. I started off on a nice run, my pace faster then last time even though I could feel my body was weaker. I hadn't eaten anything without throwing it up in more then four months and it was working. I'd lost 60 punds and was looking almost skinny. My small 5'3 frame could definitely look better if I lost ten pounds.
I stopped and gasped, leaning against the stop light pole catching my breath as I pushed the button to cross. I had already ran a mile in six minutes, faster then I had before, and wanted to get another one in before I went home, but it was late and around here shady people would start to come out soon.
Why my parents moved us to a neighborhood full of drugees was beyond me, and how my school was full of the prettiest and preppiest people I'd ever seen was even more over my head. I thought about Cathrynn while I ran, how perfect she was and how I could be that perfect if I just lost some more weight.
I rolled into a full out sprint as soon as the light told me I could cross, my legs feeling stronger then ever as Cathrynn's words popped into my head from last year. "Fat. Slut. Worthless." I'd heard it all from the popular group last year, and realized they were right just recently.
They hadn't really bothered me since I started looking better but I knew I wasn't good enough despite the comments about how "amazing" I looked now. I rounded the corner and turned around, my long ponytail flying back and hitting me in the face causing me to spit out hair as I ran back to my house.
************************
I crept quietly into the house, making sure not to wake anyone up as I tiptoed up the stairs and into my room, closing the door and turning the radio on low. I looked at my mirror and smiled seeing the sweat on my face. I did good, I'd be perfect soon.
I crawled into bed after turning on the lights, a smile on my face.
************************
I looked around the white room I sat in, the beeping and othe ordinary hospital noises rang in my ears. I looked down at myself, the gown was too loose and my stomach was small. I sighed and a tear slid down my cheek as the sickening feeling came to my stomach again.
I'd gone overboard, past my goal, I dropped all the way to 70 pounds before last week when I passed out in the kitchen and was rushed here. I still couldn't eat anything really without throwing it back up, but the fluids they had me hooked up too kept me alive. I had three visits from kids from school, wanting to hear my story, why I was here, why I had starved myself, and had been told countless times by nurses and doctors how dangerous what I had been doing was.
"Your stomach literally caved in, you wouldn't have had a stomach if your mother didn't bring you in when she did. You had been starving yourself so much your stomach was empty, and looked like it had been for a while. You're lucky you didn't die." The doctor said the first day I arrived in the hospital.
The last visit I got before was the worst. Cathrynn and her crew showed up to my room, and smiled. Cathrynn started telling me how she was so sad I had gotten put into this room, and I felt good, I was being accepted. Until she laughed a cold laugh and stared hard at me.
"But then again, only an idiot would starve herself. Come on guys, let's go." She said before walking out of the room. A tear slid down my cheek and I sat up in the bed. When I got home I'd eat. I'd force myself too, I had to get bigger.
This cycle was killing me, but I could stop it this time. I'd just add a few pounds, and stop when I hit eighty, even though the doctor insisted even 90 seemed to small, I wouldn't push it. I'd just eat until I hit 80.
I had to be beautiful, I needed them to accept me. I needed to know I wasn't worthless, I wasn't ugly or fat. I would be perfect.