Am I Beautiful Yet?

Anorexia, something that effects 1 in 10 people. But not Taylor Hope. Well, not to her anyway. Laughed at by Sarah and her troop of barbies, Taylor has no-one to confined to except her new Diary.

But then he arrives in town.


4. February 16


Dear Diary...


I feel so fat! That chip was really overdoing it, all that grease, and fat, and... ugh. I REALLY hope Joy cooking dosen't become a regular thing.

Next on the agenda. School. I didn't see Finn Logan today, which is a huge disappointment. What was he even doing at my house? I need to ask. I hope he goes to my school, even though it is a total hell-house. Maybe I could have company for once in my life.

Back to food. I questioned Joy if she is going to stick to cooking. She's in this new cooking class.




I finish up in my diary, closing the blue cover. Throwing it off my fat bed, I drift off into a restless nightmare.


Chained to a chair. It's an extremely regal chair, like something a queen would sit on or whatnot.

But that dosen't matter cause I'M chained to it.

All around me I see people doing the worst imaginable things. Old nightmares colliding, I want to run but I can't.

My parent's yelling at each other, tears streaming down each others faces like a waterfall. Sarah pinching me in fifth grade, laughing as I try not to cry. Blood pouring out of my eyelids like hot tears, the burning, excruciating pain. A yearbook slammed into my face, opening to the comments page. Nothing, except my sister Joy's curvy messy handwriting. "Have a great summer!"


Everything vanished at once. I'm all alone, the black haven surrounding me making me shiver. Solitude is  never my friend though, and it will never be. A lump in my throat proves I'm about to cry, and a new thing materializes from the inky black. Food. Delicious food. Purple grape jelly squishing against my pursed lips, saliva dripping inside my empty mouth. 

I haven't eaten jelly in ages, one bite? It.. Couldn't hurt could it? I slit my mouth open oh-so tinily, but it all goes wrong and it slips through my mouth, sticky grape coating my tongue. But its good. Its so, so good.


I bolt upright, awake. Rushing out of my old bed into the bathroom. Throwing up everything, the salad I had for lunch today, the ton of water I drank. But no purple jelly. Sweat slicked down my hot forehead as I clutched the toilet seat. 


Its just a dream. I didn't eat anything. Im okay.


But I can't convinse myself, as stupid as it seems. I need real evidence. Hard proof. The weighing scale.


I strip off my clothes shakily, bringing out the old scale, the bottom screeching against the bathroom tiles noisily, like nails on a blackboard.

Stepping onto the cold metal slowly, I see the numbers go up. 

5 1/2 stone. Nearly 6.

I'm sick again in the toilet, disgusted with my sheer grossness. Finally done, with nothing left in my body to heave, I stare into the mirror. Layers of tub grow over my underwear, my fingers so pudgy and large, my hands look like a wheel of sausages. My stomach is over-filled, like a beach ball about to pop. I stare down at my legs, away from the mirror. A thigh gap as large as my outstretched hand, but staring back into the mirror I see no gap whatsoever. Tub surrounding my flabby knees. Clawing at the fat around my stomach, I looked down at myself, seeing each of my ribs, but looking up again, I saw my beach-ball stomach, fit to bust.


The mirror never lies. 



1kg is around 0.157473 stone (not around, exactly) xD So if you don't know what stone is (I didn't until recently) yea, now you do.

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