Anna

Letters from a girl with an eating disorder to her mysterious pen pal.

11^th of January.

Dear Anna,

I’m sorry I haven’t wrote to you for a couple of months but, you see, I haven’t really needed to write to you. I’ve been doing very well all on my own, you’ll be pleased to hear. I hope you’ll be proud of me. After coming out of clinic the last time, my weight was up to eight and a half stone. Disgusting, I know. But I couldn’t help it. I was practically force fed! Day after day of breakfast, lunch, dinner and a late supper with snacks in between; all overflowing with fat, grease, salt, sugar and calories. I had to force it all down my narrow, delicate throat and it would slowly and sluggishly slide down like dirty water, thick layers of lard and pieces of old food through a blocked sink drain. I had never felt so enormous in all my life. I could see all the doctors and nurses blatantly staring at my triple chin, the rolls of fat around my hips, my stretch marked legs and my chubby, flabby, Michelin man arms. I could hear them whispering about how fat and revolting I looked. “How could someone let themselves get into that state? It’s horrible,” I’m sure I heard one of them say. It was the worst time of my life being in that place.

But I’ve been home for a month now and I am back down to seven stone, thank god! It’s far from my goal weight, of course, but I need to be sensible this time. No more blatantly refusing food at meal times, no more letting my mum hear me while throwing up in the bathroom, no more letting her find empty packets of laxatives in the bin in my bedroom. This time I’ve been very smart about it. I’ve been getting up early in the morning, sprinkling crumbs from the toaster and smearing some peanut butter onto a plate and leaving it in the sink to make it look like I’ve had a piece of toast. I’ve been making packed lunches with ham and lettuce sandwiches, chocolate biscuits, sweets, crisps, an apple and fizzy juice. I empty it straight into a bin as soon as I get to school, of course. I’ve been making myself throw up in the science building toilets at school, which are always empty because of how grimy and dirty they are, rather than sticking my toothbrush down my throat at home. And I’ve been taking my empty laxative packets outside to the wheelie bin and shoving them underneath piles of stinking rubbish so that my mum won’t find them. She’s falling for it all, just as I expected. I’ve also been gradually, rather than rapidly, losing weight this time so she won’t notice. It has been working great so far and nobody has suspected a thing. They think I’m ‘all better’, ha! If being fat and disgusting means being ‘healthy’, then I’d rather be brutally ill. My skin is starting to break out and turn grey and my hair is discoloured and dry now. But I am starting to see my cheekbones protruding again and my ribs are sticking out so much that I can almost wrap my fingers around the bones. There are dark shadows underneath each rib and my skin practically sinks in between them like melting butter. I’m so dainty and pretty. It makes me so happy.

I’ve usually just been having four hundred calories a day, which I have been counting meticulously, just as you taught me. So far today, all I’ve had to eat is a cube of cheese and half an apple. I’m so proud of myself and so pleased with the results so far. I can’t wait until I reach my goal weight and then everyone will be so jealous of how skinny I’ll be. Thank you so much for your all your help and encouragement. I promise, I’ll make you so proud!

Lots of love from Lauren x

17^th of November.

Dear Anna,

I had been doing so well. You would’ve been so proud. I’m writing to you now so that I can get it all of this out and clear my head.

I went out for a run earlier today and burned off six hundred calories. I also passed out when I came home, so I knew I’d had a good run. But you see, when I came to, I ate ten doughnuts. Ten! Ten whole giant, sugary, doughy, fatty, jammy doughnuts. I can’t stop thinking about food now. I am craving a cheeseburger. I want a double decker burger with succulent beef patties layered with sticky, melted, bright yellow cheese. I want it topped off with crispy bacon; pungent, chopped, fried onions; sour gherkins; soggy lettuce; sliced tomatoes; a gooey fried egg; salty French fries; crispy, battered, onion rings; tangy salsa; and loads of tomato ketchup and spicy BBQ sauce inside the giant, toasted, sesame seed bun.

No! No, I don’t want that!

I can’t believe I ate those doughnuts! I was just so hungry and they were sitting on the kitchen counter in an unopened bakery packet and I couldn’t help myself. I just ripped the packet open like a rabid dog and shoved them into my mouth. I hardly even chewed them. I started crying and just kept on shovelling them into my cake hole and swallowing them down hard and now my chest hurts. Around my mouth is covered in giant granules of sugar and smears of strawberry jam. The jam looks like blood. Like the blood of my beautiful skinny ghost who I have just murdered.

I feel like I’ve let you down. I feel so guilty. It will only been a matter of hours, maybe only even minutes, before I run upstairs, shove my toothbrush into my mouth until I start gagging, throwing up and seeing lumps of half chewed jam doughnuts in the toilet bowl.

Fast, fast, fast. Binge, binge, binge. Purge, purge, purge.

Too fat, fat, fat. Must be skinny. Skinny. Skinny!

I’m so sorry, Anna. It was a momentary lapse, I promise. Starting right now, I’m going to take a more drastic approach because gradually losing weight isn’t working either anymore. My mum has noticed. She says she wants me to be admitted again. I’ve overheard her on the phone to the clinic too. But I am not going back there!

The last time I wrote to you, my goal weight was six and a half stone, which is my current weight right now. But now that I see it, I’m still so fat. I’m just going to keep on going until I reach a weight that I’m happy with.

I have to finish writing now because someone just knocked on the door. It’s my mum. She’s out there with paramedics, an ambulance and the police. They’re banging on the door now and shouting my name. I’m going to go and sneak out of the backdoor. I can’t stand this place anymore. They’ll ruin my plan if I stay here. I won’t let them find me this time! You’re the only one I need, Anna. You’re the only one who understands.

Lots of love always, Lauren x

Reviews

[Meraki]

Oh my that was detailed and accurate I.. great job I was worrying about the narrator, I knew she'd run, they shouldn't have knocked the door just walked in. I would've just walked in no way she's going back easy or willingly for that matter. Anna adds the creepy tension you get from a thriller movie and makes you ask lots and lots of questions. Good job leaving the ending open let's you create your own or leaves you with a sense of foreboding like there might be another side to all of this.. Who wants closure in a thriller story anyways?

[Sophie McN]

thank you! yeah that's exactly what I was going for :D

[A. Amos]

I truly enjoy the read and your story telling is spot on...good job

[Sophie McN]

thank you :)

[A. Amos]

you're most welcome

[Marie]

THis is an absolutely fascinating story, and I read every word of it. But I didn't feel there was closure.

[Sophie McN]

thank you! I'm glad you thought so. there's not really meant to be closure. I wanted to leave it open-ended and leave a few things in the story ambiguous.