It’s 11:11 pm. The young girl squeezes her eyes shut and wishes. Wishes for the one thing she wants most in the world. To be thin.
When I look at my legs, I see fat.
When they look at my legs, they see athlete. When I look at my stomach, I see fat.
When they look at my stomach, they see a flat surface.
When I look at my arms, I see fat.
When they look at my arms, they see pencils.
They lie.
I just want to hear that I am thin. But I don’t believe it.
Whale.
There was a time before all of this. Before the hospitals, the tears, and the secret exercising. March was only six months ago, yet it feels like forever.
I never had the intention of becoming Anorexic. I don’t think anyone does. According to my long line of therapists who have yet to budge me, it was just a matter of time before I developed an eating disorder. The body image problems were already there.
I used to be happy. I used to smile for no reason. I used to love life. When my mom asks me where that Alex went, I shrug. But as soon as she turns away, I whisper the truth, “she died.”
No longer are the days were I would eat because I was hungry. I remember the size three pants I used to wear and it makes me want to barf. Size three used to seem small. Now even size zero is too big.
When I go home, none of my clothes are going to fit. At school, people are going to whisper about me when I walk by. The braver ones will come up to me and tell me I’ve gained a lot of weight. Some will just tell their friends that they heard I had anorexia.
Who am I kidding? Nobody misses me; No one cares I’m gone. Only my closest friend is interested. The rest of them forgot I even existed. But it didn’t stop the rumors from floating around.
Today has sucked. I woke up feeling thin. Thinking that I felt good made me feel like shit. So, I looked at my refection on the TV screen until I found a million things I hate and want to change. I still feel like shit. And now like a cow too. There must be something wrong with my eyes, to ever think I was not fat.
I hit an all time personal best with jumping jacks – 600 without stopping. My record at home was 300. Anything after that, I would have to crawl into the house because the cramps were so bad. But I also have more <energy> calories to burn now.
The sensation of having to pee creeps through my body slowly – a small creek running through me. I press my call button for the nurses. A locked door is another thing to add to the long list of ‘cons’ about hospitals.
I sit on the edge of my bed, patiently waiting. A burly man in a black shirt walks by. I can see the nurses outside my room.
Talking.
YOU ARE READING
75 Pounds
Teen FictionAlexandra Morton is in stuck in the hospital. Everyone keeps telling her she has an eating disorder, but that's not what she would call it. She's not sick, not Anorexic, and shouldn't be here. For eleven weeks. And then thrown back into her home wit...
