Manorexic

Chapter One

Cameron puffed his cheeks out, staring at the air-filled pockets that sat on his face. Suddenly, next to the colorless puffs, Cameron could see the lifelessness in his own face. His skin was pulled tight again the frame-work of his face, his cheekbones jagged out of his tight covering at a seemingly painful angle. His dead eyes reflected back at him... At best, Cameron looked tired. He let the air out of his cheeks, sighing deeply, the pudge around his cheeks had returned. Only when he puffed his cheeks out, when his skin drew tight around his face, was Cameron happy. He'd thought he'd been doing so much better than this, but apparently not. There was still fat clinging to Cameron's body, in places he felt they'd never leave. He stared down at his chest and mid-section, valleys and hills were created by his rib cage. His hip bones jutted out, creating a space between his boxers and his shallow abdomen. Fat, damned with it forever.

**A DEFINITION**

Anorexia  /noun/

an emotional disorder characterized by an obsessive desire to lose weight

Cameron walked away from the mirror, tears pricking his eyes. He'd worked hard all summer, fasting and exercising, to have nearly no results whatsoever. His trouble areas - the upper thighs and his sides - still clung to his otherwise skeletal frame with vigor. So desperately he wanted the fat off his body, a clean slate, a vision (to him) of perfect health.  He turned the faucet on the shower, setting the temperature to an almost searing-your-skin-off heat. He stepped out of the boxers, pulling his socks off with each hand. He winced slightly as he stepped in, the warm water engulfing him. He took his body wash down from the shower wall shelf, pouring it into his hand and roughly scrubbing his hair. His hair, it'd grown coarse and thin with the summer, the feathery mess so brittle it felt as if it'd break in half right there under the fall of the water. He rinsed the shampoo, combing it with conditioner and letting it set (as if it'd have any change on the harsh strands, the damage already sealed with the summer's sun). He scrubbed his bony chest with a loofah, following down his midsection, continuing the circular motion down to his toes. He rinsed his body off, the water falling over his head took the conditioner out and down with it. He turned off the tap, grabbing his towel from it's place over the shower rod.

He toweled himself off, picking up dark blue jeans, and a black tee. He stepped into the jeans, slipping them over his concrete hips without undoing the button. They sagged slightly. He went back into the bathroom, staring at the darkened spaces between his ribs. He slipped the dark tee over himself then, muttering lightly "black is thinning.." He grabbed his phone, unlocking the touch-screen and selecting his favorite contact. Three rings echoed in his ear as he ran his fingers through his hair, then a pick up.

"Hello?" her voice was his favorite noise, and he smiled lightly.

"Hey, beautiful.." He almost could hear her smile through the phone.

"Whattya want?"

"You," he flushed lightly, "when can I come see you?"

She paused a moment, "well, I'm guessing you've already showered and dressed yourself." She paused again, "so give me thirty minutes?"

"I'll give you twenty."

"You'll be waiting, then."

"Good. Love you."

She sighed lightly before saying, "I love you too." 

He hung up the phone, running up the basement steps, taking them two at a time. He entered the dining room, to the left of him was the kitchen door. He walked to it briskfully, spying his mother.