Voice

Mirror

Day one:

Hannah woke up, got dressed and walked toward the mirror. I reminded her of everything she could be, and everything she wasn't. "Look at you, look at that fat. Look at your arms, the way that they hang. Look at your legs and the way that they bulge from your ripped jeans. Look at the way your face wrinkles from the chub when you smile. This, this is not pretty." I know it sounded harsh, but it was what she needed. "You're right," she replied, holding back the tears behind her eyes.

Hannah headed downstairs to grab a bite to eat before catching the bus. She opened the fridge and I reminded her of her own reflection. "you don't have to eat that you know. You want to pretty right?" Hannah closed the door, picked up her bag and left for school.

Lunch came around, she sat at the lunchroom table with a tray of food. I sat down beside her to help her to make the right decisions. "Remember, skinny is pretty. Eat the apple, only the apple." She picked up the apple noticing her fat, chubby hands, she took a bite. "Hannah, are you okay?" her friend Leah asked. "You're fine." "Yeah, I'm fine, just not really hungry today."

Hannah got up from the table, dumped her tray and slowly walked away. "Do you smell that? The food, it's disgusting. All those people eating, they're all fat. You don't want to be fat, do you? Because fat isn't pretty." "No, I don't want to be fat. I-I want to be pretty."

Hannah stepped off the bus and began walking home. "Run." I prodded her to run home, burning the fat that sat upon her waist. "Your jeans wouldn't be so tight if you lost some weight. If you run home you'll burn some of that repulsive fat." The girl picked up her pace and started running in the direction of her house.

Hannah ran in the door and up to her room to set down her backpack before going downstairs to the kitchen for an afternoon snack. As she walked to the stairs she passed a mirror in the hallway, "stop." She halted. "Look at you, do you really need food?" "No." Hannah stopped, turned around, and went back to her room without a snack.

By dinner time Hannah had convinced her mom that she wasn't hungry and had a lot of homework to do. The sun began to set in the crisp September air and Hannah's stomach began to growl. "Don't listen to it, it's lying, you're not hungry." She crawled into bed with a hallow feeling in her stomach, "this is just the beginning of what thin feels like, just a taste of thin, just a taste of pretty."

Week Two:

It's been a week of me, Ana Marie, working with Hannah to reach her perfection. Today we broke out the scale for the first time in three days to check our progress. 186.4 lbs. Hannah had lost 3.1 lbs. in one week. "Good, but not good enough. Keep going"

We went to the closet to find something to wear. Hannah put on skinny jeans and a crop top. I could tell that she was feeling confident; so, clearly we had some work to do. "You still have a long way to go fat ass. Put on something else, you look like a cow." She stared into the mirror and pinched her fat. She took off her crop top and traded it for a lavender, oversized, knitted sweater. Hannah walked to the bathroom and tried to put her hair up, don't worry, I stopped her. "Do you really want everyone to see that double chin you have? I mean look at your face, it's probably the worst part on your body... all that fat. Your long, brown hair should cover that nicely, better keep it down." She set her hair tie down and left for school.

Month Three:

By this point Hannah was practically a pro. She now weighed 129.3 lbs., and set a goal weight of 100 lbs. She had lost 60.2 lbs. in three months and still, no one expected a thing.

Growing up, Hannah was always known as the chubby kid. It was cute, until it wasn't. Middle school came along and by age 13 She was officially known as the fat girl. Her father was constantly bringing up the topic of weight with concern, "Hannah, honey, I'm worried about you." He'd say, "you aren't healthy, maybe we should try eating a little less." He always said "we" but it was clear that he only meant Hannah.

Last week, her dad came home after work, he noticed Hannah's lack of apatite recently; but rather than being concerned, he was proud. As he reached out for a hug from his daughter he made a comment, "wow honey, you've lost weight! It's much easier for me to wrap my arms around you now. I'm so proud of you sweetie, you've been working so hard." You'd think that was it, the golden comment that could make this all stop; but it wasn't. Those words fed it.

I quickly jumped into Hannah's thought train, "Look how well you've done, look how far you've come. This is what it feels like to be pretty. But just imagine, imagine how much everyone would love you if you reached your goal weight." Hannah nodded through the daydream I had placed in her mind "You could do it, just keep going, you're almost there, just keep going."

I stayed by her side day in and day out. Through every question and concern, to reach every compliment and jealous glare. From morning weigh in, to night time body check.

"Hannah, I think it's time we treat ourselves, lets go buy a new mirror and a new scale!" I couldn't quite tell if she was happy or not. She seemed... tired. I couldn't be the only one excited about this. Hannah had lost 75 lbs. by this point and I, personally, was so proud of her. She wasn't perfect yet. She wasn't thin yet. She wasn't pretty yet. She was almost there and I wasn't going to let her give up now!

She seemed so ready to give up. She seemed so tired of trying. "Hannah, didn't you hear me?" She ignored me... she ignored me!

I began to dwell on her ungratefulness as my anger began to grow. "After everything I've done for you, you have the audacity to be tired? NO, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!" Tears of anger would be streaming from my face had I been alive; but rather, my emotions grew.

I screamed!

She fainted.