I told another lie today. A small one, so I could skip the food that my friends stuffed into their huge mouths. I stood up from the table, clutching my green tea, hands shaking. I told them I was going to take a quick walk outside while they ate. “Good job, you little rexxie, you’ve managed to escape yet another meal,” the familiar voice in my head rang.
I exited through the automatic doors and felt the rush of cool autumn air through on my face, my legs carrying me out the door. I felt as if I was in a fog, a cloud of angry, starving thoughts behind my tired eyes. I floated to the bench and sat down, wrapping my thick sweater tighter around my frail body.
I looked down at my wrists, clutching my warm tea, and saw the bone. I put my tea on the bench and put my fingers around my wrist, feeling a satisfying rush of happiness that my thumb and finger touched with over an inch of space to spare. I tried the same around my inner arm closer to my shoulder. My thumb and finger finally touched. I made it to this milestone yesterday, I was so pleased with myself, yet the little voice in my head told me that I could still make it easier to reach around, and maybe get some space between my fingers and my arm, like that of my wrist.
I looked up at the people rushing by, feeling as invisible as ever. Maybe I would just wither away, starve myself away until I became the dust and flew away with the wind. I already feel as though I’m floating when I’m walking, I’m only 106lbs (as of this morning). Having a flashback to this morning, I remembered that got so mad at my scale that I almost threw it across the room. I had gained 0.3 lbs since yesterday, even though I hadn’t consumed even one calorie for 83.25 hours at that point. We’re now at hour 89.5, and the dizziness has started creeping up on me. It’s a familiar feeling. I wondered if the people rushing by knew, or even suspected, that I’m so faded from restriction that I feel like a walking ghost.
I must prove the scale wrong and be at a lower weight tonight before bed. I just have to. Or it’s another whole day of no calories, which indefinitely means I would pass out at some point, since I usually do that at about 100 hours without any intake. I can’t pass out tomorrow, not only do I have to go back to work, but that would make it my ninth time passing out from restricting, and my mother already wants to put me in an intake program.
“I’m sure you can do it, honey, Ana’s always here with you. You won’t faint, I swear. You’ll just be doing the right thing to make yourself so skinny and tiny and have people love you even more. Look at all these fat idiots around you, not doing what you’re doing. You’re so much further than they are already! We will watch the scale go down tonight together, and then make a good plan for tomorrow. You already know I’m going to make you restrict, so I don’t know why you’re planning anything different,” she scolded. She was right, as she always is. Ana always wins. I sipped my tea and took a deep breath before standing up.
I felt the blood rush to my head and black spots appear before my eyes. I absolutely stood up too fast. I shook it off, sighed and walked slowly back inside. If the scale doesn’t go down tonight, I will restrict again. I will make it to 92 lbs. That makes my BMI 13. Then I will be perfect. Then Ana will be happy with me.