Monster in my Mind

Chapter two

So anyways, we moved here for my dad Craig's job and biggest passion in life (besides his family) and my mother Wendy got a job as a secretary at a dentist office. She is so good with talking and is the biggest prettiest social butterfly you could ever conjure up in that pretty little head of yours that it's crazy and mind blowing. The only thing more mind blowing is my incredible lack of the butterfly gene. I must have gotten the moth traits. I am full and not very colorful in personality or looks at all.

I tried to fix this before.

Before my parents hauled me to the looney bin (I oftentimes refer to the clinic for mental care as this) because of my suicide scare, I tried to fix the moth problem. This was at a time when every little girl is insecure about her body, in seventh grade. It was gym class and I had to change around all of these girls. Normally you stick your head down like a soldier in battle and don't dare lift up your head to look around in fear of getting laser eyes glaring back at you, shooting back at you. I stuck to this idea for a while, but my eyes drifted as they naturally do (and don't even say this doesn't happen to you because you're a liar otherwise) and I saw everyone else in the locker room. How comfortable they all were with their bodies. I couldn't help but look down at my own rolls and how they clumped together, the large amount of sweat from playing color tag seeping through my shirt and my shorts. I looked like a stuffed sausage. Other girls tried to be nice about it, they tried to not look at me with their pointed stares and they're gasping pink lips at the sight of my less than dainty figure without clothes on, but I still saw it. And the worst part was hearing them talk about it. Whispers on the air about how Quinn looked like a jelly doughnut. How Quinn looked like she was a pig. Why didn't Quinn try to look better? You know, Quinn is nice and all, but if she lost weight maybe we would be friends with her.. All of this was said behind my flabby back and it hurt. But it still didn't hurt as much as the pretty girl group. I was locked in a bathroom stall, I had gotten lunch and asked my mom to pack a lunch for me. I didn't want people to know I ate another meal so I ate it in the girls bathroom. There I was munching away on a s'mores pop tart when the flip flopping of shoes came into earshot, echoing through what was once my sanctuary, now turned prison cell. "I cannot believe her. She thought that she would even have the smallest chance with Aaron?" I froze instantly, thinking of the interaction I had with Aaron the biggest crush of my life at the time. I turned my hearing up mentally, knowing that this was about me. My panic started to rise, but I bit my lip and clung to the edges of the toilet for dear life. "This isn't an eating contest, doesn't Quinn know she doesn't have a chance at winning his heart?" A girl snarled. I shrunk back in terror. "He's mine. He likes skinny pretty girls, not girls who look like they just rolled out of a lard truck" this produced many laughs that bounced off of the walls before stabbing me in the heart. "She will never be pretty. Don't worry. We will make sure she doesn't get a chance. "We will make sure nobody, especially Aaron, likes her even a teensy teensy bit" reassures one of the girls before the flip flopping of shoes leaves.
I could not help crying.
And I could not help staying home from school for a week after. Every day looking at my body in the mirror and hating it.
I took my tooth fairy money and the money from mowing lawns and I bought myself a scale And dieting pills. I took three a day and weighed myself. I didn't eat and I worked out. I cut out pictures of models, stick thin runway models, and I wanted to be popular and worthy like them.
I tried so hard but just got sadder. And the results weren't coming fast enough for me, and the taunting never stopped, even as I shed the pounds. There was an Instagram page set up about me, it was called Quinn-Fatlet. The girl who looked like she was going to give birth to quintuplets. The downward spiral happened within a few months.
I grabbed random pills and swallowed and ended up in the mental hospital.
There they told my weeping family and I the obvious.
1- Quinn is depressed and has depression
2- Quinn has body dysmorphia, and that is accompanied by EDNOs (I was weirdly proud that I was skinny enough for this to be identifiable)
3- she doesn't like being around people and it causes her to have panic attacks. This is a sign for social anxiety or anxiety in general and should be treated.
I got doped up on lots of meds after they pumped my stomach sparkling clean like the bathroom floor at the Kardashians house. I also got to see a shrink for a little bit before I showed significant improvement for a year and a half and they released me from their clutches due to a stable behavior that can be managed all on Quinn's own with the help of medication.
And I was really good at hiding those every other month episodes of deep sadness. And I have never looked at myself the same since then. I have never looked at myself with satisfaction and have always looked at myself as imperfect, but now I always looked at myself as a failure and a freak too. Who doesn't deserve to be taking up so damn much space on this planet we call earth.