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Mock Morals: Starving for Skinny, Part 2

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Author's Note: This is Part 2 of "Mock Morals: Starving for Skinny" (article ID: 8914)

Mirrors never lie. My reflection was gorgeous. I was the epitome of absolute perfection, a real mannequin. I was ready to attend the prom . . . except there was one small problem. I felt that I was missing something -- I needed something to complete my look. So I did the craziest thing I could possibly think of -- I dyed my beautiful brown locks to blonde. You see, a few weeks ago in a magazine I noticed Nicole Richie in a pink dress similar to mine. But in the photograph she had blonde hair. Wow, was she stunning. I could look like her very easily. I deserved to look like her. So I brought blonde hair dye from the drug store and dyed my hair.

As I was rubbing the mixture into my hair, I couldn't help but smirk. I was becoming an entirely different person and I was losing my identity. It was as if the prom was a costume party and I had gone to the extreme. I had become my costume -- an anorexic. These days, my face was very pale and deathly. I didn't have as much energy as I used to. Often, I felt out of breath just as I began my morning jogs. Everything was telling me that I was hungry -- my stomach, my mind, everything. I couldn't drone the gurgling noise my stomach made. I still refused to eat though, and my appetite grew larger. I was depriving myself of the basic necessities of survival. Though I did not realize it, I was slowly beginning to kill myself. I was half way there because I looked like a corpse. But I hid my thin frame under loose, baggy clothes. Well, I had no choice either way because I was too small for clothes that once used to hug my figure. I felt as if I was more stressed now. Was I actually happy being skinny? Had I really accomplished a dream?

Of course I had. Why was I doubting myself so often? I knew that I had chosen the correct path. Every time I spied a plate of fries, I wanted to hungrily dash for it. But I had learned to resist. Though I always reached out for snacks, I never ate them. Instead, I started hiding them in my clothes. I mean, I had a lot of room in my clothes anyway. A few plates of fries wouldn't hurt. These were the thoughts that now consumed me. My brain was overloading with questions and I was constantly thinking about one specific thing -- the prom. How would I look? How would they like me? Would they laugh? Would they be sorry? I wanted somebody to tell me that I was beautiful. But most of all, I wanted desperately to erase the bullying I had faced as a child.

There was that gurgling noise again. The sound of my intestines pounding was almost like a secret language . "Eat," they whispered, "Eat! Eat!" I ignored these noises by turning to music. I would put my headphones on at full volume and lay on my bed. I just wanted to be happy. I would close my eyes and try to drift away to a better place. Nonetheless, I soon found myself clutching my stomach, attempting to prevent myself from wailing out in pain. One hand was clasped over my mouth and the other was massaging my salvaged stomach. Tears has even come to my eyes, I was in that much pain. My stomach churned and groaned and my mind continuously thought about food. A nice, juicy tofu burger smothered in ketchup and relish. Oh, and a plate of toasted, salty fries. Mmm, how I daydreamed of such luxuries! However, I was motivated not to eat. I had set a goal for myself, which was to erase my mind of the word "food". Food is evil, I told myself repeatedly. Hunger is nothing more than a feeling. But thinness? Thinness is a skill. I analyzed myself in the mirror for hours, holding my fat and staring at it in disgust. I was utterly repulsed by my saggy skin and my beefiness. I needed to lose more weight because mirrors do not lie.


Author's Note: "Hunger is a feeling. Thinness is a skill"--Emma (Degrassi)


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