Resistant

3

                Song: Orange Juice
                      -Melanie Martine
...

TW: Bulimia & Body Dysmorphia 

                    Asteria Vasquez

I stare at the acidic, food that came out of my mouth from vomiting. "Just one more time of vomiting, then I will be done." I whispered to myself. I shove a toothbrush down my throat and purge everything out, feeling the burn in my throat. I remove the toothbrush from my mouth, my eyes watering.

I get up from the floor, feeling dizzy and flush the toilet. Then I stare at my big mirror, looking hard at myself, seeing so many insecurities at once. I suck in my stomach, seeing my rib cage protrude. I stop doing that and see my no flat stomach. I then look at my face, analyzing every feature.

"Why is my nose so pointy and big?"
I asked aloud, my voice trembling.

"Why do my eyes look like that?"
I mutter, leaning closer to the mirror to inspect the dark circles and redness.

"Do my shoulders look big?" I wonder, turning slightly to see my profile.

"Why can't I be skinny like other models?". I lament, feeling a pang of jealousy.

I keep asking myself a bunch of questions about my appearance. I stare at myself for a longer period of time, my eyes scanning every inch of my reflection.

People say I'm the most beautiful girl in the world or a really pretty model. Am I really? I have a lot of curves, I don't have long sleek hair like other models, I'm not even skinny, and my lips are too big.

I run my fingers through my hair,feeling it's texture, which seems dull and lifeless. I pinch the skin on my arm, wishing they were more toned. I step back and look at my entire body, feeling overwhelmed the flaws I see. My legs aren't as long or slender as I'd like them to be.

Tears well up in my eyes as I continue to pick myself apart, feeling a deep sense of dissatisfaction and self loathing. I wish I could see what others see in me, but all I can focus on are my perceived imperfections.

The weight of these thoughts presses down on me, making it hard to breathe. I take a deep breath and try to shake off the negative thoughts, but they cling to me like a shadow, always lurking, always judging.

After a few moments of staring at myself in the mirror, I wash my hands and brush my teeth with my other toothbrush, scrubbing away the bitter taste of vomit. I splash my face with cold water, hoping to erase the evidence of my earlier actions.

Once I feel somewhat composed, I leave the bathroom to get ready for the day.

I arrive at the studio where today's photo shoot will be take place. The familiar scent of hairspray and makeup greets me as I walk into the dressing room. My hairdresser and make up artist are already there, waiting their usual warm smiles."Good-morning " I say, trying to sound cheerful.

"Morning, Mrs. Vasquez." They reply in unison. I settle into the chair and they begin their work. The process is meticulous, each brush stroke and hairpin placement executed with precision.

After about 45 minutes, they hand me my first outfit and step out to give me some privacy. I slip into the mini flower sundress with spaghetti straps, admiring the delicate pattern and the way the fabric flows.

For shoes, I choose the white Chanel sandal bow heels, which add a touch of elegance to ensemble. My makeup is a soft glam look, enhancing my features without overpowering them. And my hair is styled half up and half down secured with a white bow.

Feeling somewhat confident, I make my way to the set. Today's backdrop is a flied of vibrant, colorful flowers, their petals swaying gently in the breeze. I spot the photographer, a new face in the team. She greets me with a friendly smile.

"Hi, my name is Nyla, and I'll be your photographer today." She says warmly.

"Nice to meet you, Nyla. I'm Asteria Vasquez." I introduced myself, though it's feels unnecessary.

"I know who you are." She replies with a hint of admiration. I nod, feeling a familiar of pride and discomfort.

"Today, we're shooting for Marc Jacob perfumes. You'll be posing with the flowers and the perfume bottle." She explains.

"Got it." I respond, taking the perfume bottle she hands me. I walk into the flied, positioning the bottle near my face and adopting a serious expression.

"Perfect, hold that pose." She instructs, and I do, feeling the weight of the camera gaze. She clicks the shutter, capturing the moment. I lower the perfume bottle, taking a deep breath.

"Great job, Asteria. Let's move on to the next shoot." Nyla says, her encouragement giving me a small post of confidence as the shoot progresses, I try to focus on the beauty flowers around me, hoping to find a moment of peace amidst the chaos of my thoughts.

After several exhausting hours of shooting, I was finally done for the day. I decided to park my car in the back lot so the paparazzi wouldn't spot me.

I climbed into my car and laid my head on the steering wheel, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on me. Today had been a mix of highs and lows, leaving me emotionally drained.

I rested my head on the steering wheel for a couple of minutes, trying to soothe the pounding headache that had developed. Black dots danced in my vision whether my eyes were opened or closed, making it hard to focus.

The quiet of the car felt like a small refuge from the chaos outside. Once I felt slightly better, I took a deep breath, started my car, and drove away from the city, hoping for some peace and quiet.

A/n

Asteria struggles with an
eating disorder,but she
doesn't realize it yet.
She thinks she's trying to shed a few pounds,unaware of the disorder taking hold.
She thinks she's trying to shed a few pounds, unaware of the disorder taking hold. 

Also her body dysmorphia makes it nearly impossible for her to see her body in a short light.

Sorry for short chapter I promise you It gets better.