Whatever You Want

Mitzi and her friend, Solana go shopping. Mitzi's eating disorder starts.

Whatever you want
    Chapter 1
“Wow, these neon skinny jeans are super cute!” Solana exclaims, yanking out two size-two jeans.  “Let’s try them on!”
    I grin, following my best friend.  Swiftly, we weave in and out of racks and tables lined with vibrant fabrics until we reach the back of the store.  Solana and I squeeze into a dim-lit dressing room, locking the white door.  Zip! Our faded jeans collapse to the waxed floor with a subtle swish.  
    Solana steps into a pair of the skinny jeans with ease.  The neon slacks hug her butt and fit loose on her hips.  Innocently, she twirls in front of the mirror.  “What do you think?” she asks.
    “They look amazing on you,” I state, and then smirk jokingly.  “Everything does, Sol.”
    Solana beams.  “Mitzi, try yours on too.”
    Silently, I nod, stepping into the skinny jeans.  I tug at the waist band as they stick to my thighs.  I grimace, “I guess they’re too tight.”
    I hide my face that heats like an oven.  For a moment, I close my eyes, wishing I was carefree and skinny like Solana.  “Its fine, you’ll probably slim down now that ballet is over.  I mean last year I lost four pounds after the season ended.” She replies, trying to make excuses for me.
    “That’s because you got mono and couldn’t swallow anything for forever and a day,” I add.  
    “Oh yeah, right.  Do you want to try these on in a different size?”
    I ponder, I must wear at least a size five now.  I can’t believe it…I can’t pull myself to say yes.  “Nah I’m good.”
    “Okay, I think I’m gonna buy these and then we can go get something to eat before we leave.”  Solana answers, pulling her own skinny jeans back on.
     She places the lime pants on the oak counter in the middle of the store.  Flirtatiously, she swishes her straight blonde hair as it tumbles down her back in a thick wave of gold.  “Would you like to make a purchase?” the employee asks automatically.
    The young man rings up the jeans.  “Twenty-nine ninety-nine,” he winks with a grin of pearl-like teeth.  The casher appears much older and taller than Solana; with wavy chocolate hair and a v-neck shirt under his smock revealing his chest.  Shocked, I realize he’s flirting with my best friend.  “Thank you,” she beams clutching the shopping bag but not breaking eye contact
    I scurry out of the store dragging her along as the casher calls out, “You have a nice day!”
    “He seemed nice.” Solana smiles.
    “He’s too old for you, besides you have Jamil.”
    “I was just being friendly. Who are you? My mother?” She chuckles.  “Let’s head to the food court.”
    We rush down the shiny tile floors.  Solana’s lucky to have a boyfriend, and yet she flirts with everyone, from my older brothers to the hot cashers at brand-name stores, I think as we pass couples holding hands and shopping bags.  Employees in navy smocks are packing up late Christmas decorations as we reach the food court.  “What do you want?” Solana asks, glancing around the oversized room.  
    “I don’t know,” I reply quietly.
    “Oh I know! Let’s split a plate at Panda Express.” Solana decides, grabbing my wrist and dragging me through a maze of tables.  
    “Here, save this table and I’ll be right back.” Solana adds, leaving me.
    I hang my shopping bags on the back of the shiny wooden chair before sitting down.  In my mind, I replay the conversation.  You’ll probably slim down now that ballet is over.  I mean last year I lost four pounds after the season ended.  That’s because you got sick and couldn’t eat for a week.  Puzzled, I pondered.  Solana was sick and miserable and lost weight, no one can have everything.  I can’t have whatever I want.  
    Solana plops a heaping plate of rice, chicken, and noodles on the table.   “Yummy right?” she asks enthusiastically.
    My stomach murmurs at the odor flowing from the food.  I grab the plastic Spork, reaching toward the rice that Solana is already digging into.  A voice snorted in disgust, Mitzi, you can’t just have whatever you want, whenever you want it.  You’ll get fat.  You have to earn that food.
    The voice controls me; I put my utensil down on the table.  “Don’t you want any?” Solana asks, eyeing my Spork and the food.
    “I’m not really hungry.  I don’t feel very good.” I half-lie.  
    “Suit yourself,” she shrugs.
    Still the strange voice sings in my head.  That’s more like it, now you know you can’t have whatever you want.

Author's Note

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