So I tried to write something happy while procrastinating my history work and this piece of crap happened. Oh well. --- Countless hours staring at your reflection. Facing sideways, holding your stomach in. Sighing, and giving up. Wincing at the number on the scale, because that is all you'll ever be. Going out shopping with friends, discussing clothing sizes. You'll never be as small as them. You compare your body to their slender forms. Whale. The mirror in the dressing room glares at you tauntingly. You don't quite fit into thin reflective rectangle. Everyone else comes out of the shops with bags of clothes. You're lucky to find a couple of things that look halfway decent. It just isn't fair. You go home, running up the stairs and cringing when your steps thump a little too loudly. Your bed creaks when you flop onto it, as you burst into tears. Fat. That is all that is running through your mind. That is what people must first think when they see you, that must be what people are laughing at as you walk by. You are just too big. Your mind screams at you, you can't focus on anything else. Just your size and how you'd do anything to shrink it. And so the starving begins. Skipping breakfast, refusing lunch. One day you're made to eat. It feels disgusting. You run to the bathroom and make it all come back up. You feel disgusting. Your friends worry. They wonder why you've become like this. They beg you to just have something, anything to eat. They don't understand. Why don't they understand? They don't see you the way you see yourself. You don't know what they think of you. You assume the worst. But you're wrong. Your friends, and others when asked, say only good things about you. "They're so kind!" "So smart!" "I'm jealous of their looks." "They're so strong." "They're amazingly creative." "Cute!" "They are so supportive." "I wish I spent more time with them!" "They're so talented." Your friends continue to worry. You're smaller than before. But not any happier. Not as small as you want to be. It isn't working. You decide to stop. You throw away the scale and cover up your mirror. You eat. Healthier than before, but that isn't what matters. You get back into routine, three meals a day and a snack or two in between. You are happy. Size no longer matters. People aren't all supermodels, and that's fine! Aiming for perfect isn't necessary. You can't aim for what you already are.
I really enjoyed reading this, this speaks to me on an emotional level and it has been one of the few eating issue stories I have read that hasn't triggered me. I wish this is how they all ended.
I'm glad you liked it my other stories aren't like this at all, but I kinda like the happy ending. It's not something I've done before.