A Rose with Starry Eyes

{February 12, 2010}   my creative writings ~ triggering

what do we say when they say we can’t do it?
we say, “Fuck YOU, Bitch!”
what do we say when we’re halfway through it?
we say, “Fuck YOU, BITCH!”
what do we do when we’re too weak to starve
we say, “FUCK YOU, BITCH!”
what do we do when we’re when we’re thin and not large,
we say, “Take THAT, Bitch!”

what do we do when she’s says she’s gotten thinner
we keep playin’ games and we show her who’s the winner
she can say all the wants about needing new jeans
because we know in the end she’s not as sick as she seems!

STOP. DON’T reach for those chips, FATASS. DON’T stretch out your stomach even more.
you see those two things hanging off your chest like jiggly dead lumps of flesh
that’s ALL those are- thick, dead, FAT suspended from some strips of cloth that aren’t even big enough to fit your mammaries.
those are NOT sexy.
those are the type of boobs that will be hanging down to your belly button a few years from now.
do you think somebody wants to hug you when they can’t get their fucking ARMS around you?!
do you think you’ll be able to wave your hand in the air without your “wings” flapping majestically in the breeze?!

do you EVER want to be able to flaunt your stuff in front of a bunch of stupid guys at the pool?
do you EVER want to be able to beat Shiney at her own stupid game?
you can lose all the weight you WANT and without solid, physical proof of it-
(ie, people getting concerned, or, I dunno, maybe people even fucking noticing,)
you’re not getting ANYWHERE.

don’t you want to be like that girl on set whose director, whose producer, whose stylist, whose whatever is freaking out over if she ate enough?
don’t you want to look good to a camera at any angle, not have to pose a certain way in the right lighting with your head down at a slant?
(the camera tells the truth, y’know. if you think it was “just a bad shot” or the angle or your expression or something, you’re wrong. it’s what everyone else sees you as.)
don’t you want to be like elle mcphearson, the mother two at age 45 who still looks like a freaking college student?!
she makes all the other soccer moms jealous.
don’t you want to make all the other soccer moms at your school jealous?
you could have the body for it, y’know- if you tried hard enough.
naturally tall and curved, but just enough, not too much-
just carve away at the excess fat there and you could be QUITE a hottie.
no longer one of those “ooh, hot library gi- oh no wait, it’s just stand proud” chicks.
you could wear skinny jeans.
you could be a size fucking zero and still have tits. (your one blessing!)
you could be the american dream.

all you have to do is staple your fucking mouth SHUT for a minute and listen to me.
when have I ever steered you wrong?
you think I can’t give all this shit to you- a longer life span, a hotter physique, better clothes, a dancer’s body, some boys who can maybe stand to look at you without gagging?
I can, and it’s all very simple.
All you have to do is-

STOP shoving food into your mouth whenever you feel bored or upset or procrastinate or something.
STOP taking it out on the people around you and START channeling your ambition towards something GOOD for you!
STOP taking second place to Shiney at everything and get some fucking SELF-RESPECT!
so just step away from the tortilla chips, try NOT to eat 2 bowls of ice cream when I’m not looking,
whatever you do,
DON’T think that tomorrow is a fresh slate.
because the calories you ate last night will STILL be there tomorrow morning.
they will STILL be clinging to your cheeks, your face, your stupid fucking hips, and ESPECIALLY

so DON’T tell yourself it’ll be better by tomorrow.
because it WON’T.
you need to realize that what you ate three years ago is still on your thighs.
that binge on half a loaf of toast with jam after kayla kicked you off the lunch table?
yeah, still clinging to the back of your arms.
all those smuckers patties and chocolate malt milk you chugged furtively in the library during lunch when no one would let you sit with them?
all over your face.
those 3 and a half bowls of ice cream after you got so upset that you binged again?
that’s still padding on your fucking ASS, isn’t it, you imbecile!

maybe there’s a reason Rach calls you the human garbage disposal.
maybe there’s a reason ____
maybe you should STOP EATING when you’re FULL!
maybe even before you’re full.
maybe then we could finally GET SOMEWHERE!!!



don’t you want to dance, truly dance, for the first time in your life?
do you even remember what it’s like to take a shower without support?
when was the last time you turned down food, huh?
I mean, truly. Did you want that food? That cake, that chocolate, those fries, that utter SHIT that happened to be lying around the kitchen during your perpetual weak moment?
Well now you can dance, and you can swim, and you can take a shower and you might even skinny-dip with my help.
You can even turn down food for the first time in your pathetic life- you can even turn it down without wanting it!

I can cure you of this illness you have, this addiction to food that is destroying your life.
Don’t tell me that you don’t look in the mirror every day and feel a little bit disgusted at what you are?
Don’t tell me it doesn’t bother you every time you can’t get a pose right in yoga class because you can’t fucking move properly?
Aren’t you sick of the boob jokes, the porn star jokes, the way everyone assumes that a woman with your tits must be Drew’s mother rather than his 2-years-older sister?!
Don’t you want to change?

How did it feel to look at Rosie from the ACLU and see her rockin’ that black halter top?
That same halter top that hangs in your closet and you can never wear again-
partly because you probably stretched it out, partly because when you wore it all your friends either shielded their eyes or said it was “blinding”.
You almost turned a bunch of lesbians straight.
Billy Graham would be proud.
But I doubt that Hollywood would, and I doubt that J would, and I doubt anybody else would either.
And I doubt that Rita Hayworth or Marilyn Monroe or Ingrid Bergman or that anybody else worthwhile would’ve gotten this reaction either-
(And they’re all fucking dead!!!)
AND they’re still better than you.
So, wow, you really suck, huh?
But if someday you can get to the point with your body that you can actually fit into that halter top without sucking in your stomach or your boobs spilling out,
If maybe you can actually wear that top in public without getting arrested for indecency,
if maybe, just maybe, you can scrounge what little willpower you have left and succeed to the point that your life doesn’t seem so hopeless,
then maybe you’re not a total waste after all.

make her jealous of you; 5′ 10″ in size zero skinny jeans
now you’re the one posting on Rach’s wall that you’ve “….shrunk”.
swishy hair and high-high-heels, you won’t make the same mistakes as her-
you’ll never be that stupid “hot girl’s ugly, easy friend” who they used and ridiculed, like she was, so unknowingly.
you’ll never try too hard like she did, her stupid mousy, squeaky teapot voice straining to please as her glitter boobs dangled and her fuck-me heels clacked.
you are not the teacher’s pet; you are merely there to collect your inheritance, the queen bee throne that is rightfully yours. you do not have to work so hard.
you used to beg her to make you social; now you’ll be the one with the friends and she’ll be the one on the outside.
won’t it just kill her that while she’s losing all this imaginary weight, you’re shedding that fatty cocoon and emerging a sleek, sexy butterfly?
[[[[[imagine people commenting on your newly slim physique as she loudly insists that her vitamin water has calories!
imagine that empty feeling in the pit of her stomach as she realizes that no one is listening; that Mr. Co-Dependnet is assuring you that you look sexy but how many days have you been fasting anyways, I thought you’d stop at 10, and you just laugh and flip your hair and say something about how don’t worry, I’m only doing this fast for spiritual reasons. Just trying to achieve enlightenment.
and everyone looks at you in your newly thin body and the way your legs go so-so-so-so long in that miniskirt, how sexy you are in that edgy urban fashion, and suddenly you have your pick of the seniors, and then the shape up teacher is concerned and call you in to talk about your measurements- “dropping from 145 to 110 pounds in 2 months really isn’t healthy, Rose”- and that bitch is practically sick with how much you succeeded at what she always failed at.
///it becomes almost an urban legend how no one’s seen you eat in a year- but any guy at school who’s seen you would get into a fistfight to defend your honor, so people really only whisper.
Shiney begins to stalkerishly check your facebook profile and glare at pictures of you, perfectly proportioned in a bardot bikini. ]]]]]]
won’t it just kill her that not only
anything is possible with ana. no possibility left un-considered.
the star of the school musical, the school play, both the school plays,
a model and the only one at your school to get cast in an indie film, that gets distribution, that catapults you to stardom…?
your GPA magically turned around (ha, ha!) and your life on-track to a scholarship.
and where is she? waitressing with aunt flo up north? still ever-hovering as nick’s pathetic groupie?
-freedom in your cage;
“it’s like living in a bouncy castle!”
-spend hours doing plies and stretches and just dancing all those aches away- {except}
but it’s hard to achieve a dream when you can’t even show up to the audition without looking like an elephant, isn’t it?
gazelles leap. elephants go thud and squash people.
oh sure, an elephant can occasionally balance on a giant ball without falling over,
and maybe once or twice at the circus their clumsy, bastardized version of grace has captured the attention of children for a moment or two.
but is that all you wanna be?
just some elephant in a balancing act that maybe looks decent, occasionally?!
No. You were born for something better than that.
And that’s why I’m here-
because with my help, you WILL dance.
with my help, you WON’T go thud when you hit the floor.
with my help, you can achieve a passable human shape after all.
-desexualized, media, etc. like eve hewson, 27 club; just feeling safe, prepubescent, jutting hipbones and birdlike bones with long, graceful arms and legs that go on forever.
“I never got my chance to be a/ play at Lolita; I skipped straight to being mistaken for a 35 year old mother of 2 rather than a 15-year-old nymphet. No wonder I was so pissed off.”
flowing hair, long body, no back aches, no sucking things in. (Here Comes the Sun)
not afraid of your face when you meet people anymore.

et cetera
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