Thursday, July 9, 2009

Day Two: I Need Ana

I stood in front of the mirror. "This sucks," i muttered to myself. "I suck."
"You're not fat," my dad had told me only hours before, but standing here, looking at my reflection in the giant mirror in my room, i really couldn't believe that he'd meant it. My thighs were touching up at the very top (how disgusting!), and my arms were entirely too thick also, like those tubes of Pillsbury biscuit dough, all soft and white and wobbly. I turned to get a sideways view of myself and groaned softly. Last night's little binge and this morning's bowl of cornflakes showed themselves in my stomach, trying to bulge their way out of my sweatpants. My butt... lets not even go there, and leave my hips alone too. The only thing small enough was my breasts, and it still would be ok with me if they'd shrink a little bit once everything else was smaller. I was fat; forget what dad had said. There was no way he could possibly have meant it.
"Ana!" i screamed. "Ana, i need you."
Just like that, she was at my side. "I'm here, sweetie." She took my hand and squeezed it lovingly. Entwined in her tiny, bony fingers, my hand looked like a huge fat gorilla paw, and yet somehow, she was the strong one. "It's OK," she said as if she'd read my mind. "I'll help you."
I smiled at her. "I know."
She returned the smile. "I love you, Jo," she reminded.
"I love you too," i answered. And i meant it!
"Good," she said, setting my iPod on the speaker system i had for it. "I'm going to help you. 500 Calories is the max today."
I scribbled that down in my food journal as the opening bars of a Rascal Flatts song began to play.
"Listen to the words," Ana told me. I did.

*"You feel like a candle in a hurricane,
Just like a picture with a broken frame,
Alone and helpless, like you've lost your fight,
But you'll be alright;
You'll be alright.
Cause when push comes to shove,
You taste what you're made of.
You might bend, till you break
Cause it's all you can take.
On your knees you look up,
Decide you've had enough.
You get mad; you get strong;
Wipe your hands; shake it off.
Then you stand......
Everytime you get up
And get back in the race,
One more small piece of you
Starts to fall into place......"
*Rascal Flatts: Stand

The song ended, and Ana turned of the iPod and speakers. "Now, lets get you to the gym."
I smiled and nodded.

No comments:

Post a Comment