Tell A Tale in 500 Words
Hurdles By Meghan Claridge
The scales creak with age as I place one and then two feet on them. The dial turns, but not much and it lands on five. Five stone, I haven’t weighed this little since I was 11. I don’t know whether to be happy or sad or angry or joyous. It was my goal to weigh less and less, it gets easier, every bite you turn away makes it easier to turn away the next, you can do it then and you can do it again and again.
But now I have now reached the weight I have craved for so long, I am as thin as the models in the magazines, which should mean I feel beautiful, which means I should feel grateful that I have the body that every girl dreams of. But I don’t. Instead I just feel empty, alone like I need to lose even more to be like them. To be like the girl that society paints as perfect; but its then that I realise, I can’t be like them because Photoshop doesn’t exist for the real life person, only pictures which are edited and changed till they don’t look human anymore.
Change. Change is what I need, to change the way I think, to stop turning away the mouthfuls of food that are going to save my life.
People think anorexia is beautiful, I mean why wouldn’t they, it makes you thin, and it’s easy to just start eating again right? But media doesn’t show pulling the jumper back on your shoulder for the 10th time in five minutes because there is nothing there to keep it up, media doesn’t paint a bad picture because “we don’t want to influence young people”, but it isn’t a trend, it’s not something you decide to do, or want to. I need to change, and I think the only way I can is to fight. Fight the voice in my head which is telling me not too.
I get changed and venture down stairs to my least favourite room in the house, the kitchen, and walk right over to the cupboard, and take out a packet of chocolate digestive biscuits. I can feel my mums eyes trained on every move I take; and that’s when I do it, the thing I haven’t been able to do for 1 whole year, her mouth drops open in shock as mine closes around the biscuit. I swallow, the taste so unfamiliar but yet delightful, I turn to look at my mum and take another bite. And another. This time it’s the opposite way round, with every bite I take, the next is easier and easier, you just need to overcome the first hurdle.
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