I Am Beautiful.

A girl deals with bulimia. A very short story.

     The mirror is not my friend today. It shows a me that is not beautiful like the rest. My eyes are droopy, my hair isn't shiny, my skin isn't flawless. And worst of all, I'm fat. My shirts barely cover my bulging waistline. My pudgy fingers shove cake down my throat. I cry at night.
       You can be pretty.
       That's what my index finer tells me. I nod, tears forming. I squat down next to the toilet. My finer gently opens my lips, and slides down deeper.
        You will be beautiful.
        I choke, and my head leans over the bowl.
        And everyone will love you.

        And my stomach heaves.



           My therapist looks up when I stop telling her.
       "And that's how it all started?" she asks. I nod.
       "Yes."
       "Then you're mother found you?" I nod again.
        "She took me to the hospital."
        "Why?"
        "Because she said I 'didn't have any meat on my bones.' The doctor said I was 'extremely underweight'." I stare at my toothpick fingers. I don't like how I look. I can see my bones, and my hair is thin and wispy.
         "I see."
         
   

      I don't believe people when they call me pretty. But I believe people when they say that something about me is unnerving.

Reviews

[Bella-Marie]

Oh, I get it now.
Who cares about my last comment! TEN OUTTA TEN~!

[Bella-Marie]

I like the idea and the first paragraph was brilliant... just touch up the rest. I didn't get the bit about 'no meat on my bones' and then being 'extremely overweight'.
But otherwise, this was a touching piece. Well done.

[E. L. Foley]

This is a very difficult subject--I have a friend who struggled with bulimia and only came out after intense rehab. I do like that your character sounds real--her thoughts feel like a real person. I'm not entirely sure about the observation "I can see my bones"--I don't know if that is something that the narrator would admit.

[Coyote Poetry]

Sometime we seek perfection that can't ever be reached. we live in a world that stresses perfection and no weakness. The imperfections are what make us all different and special. If all men and woman were all the same. Would be a damn depressing world. A powerful story. The detail and description made your words come alive. A very good story. Thank you.
Coyote