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.


8. February 22


A/N The last chapter I didn't put a real-life Taylor thing (it was only a diary entry) 


Dear Diary...


Finn invited me over to his house today, it was really sweet, actually. Being a Saturday, and putting a zero on my social card, I was EXTREMELY surprised when the phone rang.

Actually no, the phone rings all the time (Joy is a social butterfly) I was surprised when I heard Joy's exasperated voice yell at me,

"Tay, it's for you! Some boy..." Rushing down the stairs, I picked up the phone.

"Tay?" Instead of a Hello, or a hi taylor Hope! I got Tay? Even so, his voice gave me goosebumps. Here is how the conversation went:

Me: Speaking

Finn: Nice nickname.

I could hear the grin in his voice...

Me: So, um, how... How did you get my number?

Finn: It was extremely hard... The directory apparently, did not have "Taylor Hope Green" so I was stuck...


I tried to stifle a laugh, and it came out as a bit of a snort. Lovely.

Finn: Anyway, I was wondering if you want to come over to my place tomorrow? Beca...

Me: Sure. Where do you live?

So he gave me his address, and I'm heading over there for lunch. God I hope he dosen't try to make me eat anything.









I am officially awake.

It's 9:15, meaning I have three hours to get ready for Finn. Even though I have a ton of time, my heart is beating rapidly. Staring into the mirror, I notice that my hair is a sheer rats nest. Stepping into the hot shower, droplets of steaming water soak through my skin, as I attack my hair with shampoo and conditioner. Now, my hair seems better, less brittle, at least. Getting out of the shower, my fingers, shriveled and prune like from the hot water, grab my mothers old makeup bag. 





That's what everyone wears right?

I put the eye-shadow on first, picking a brown color. I flick it across my lids, trying to re-create the effect my mother uses. It puffed up, getting the dark powder on my white towel which wrapped around my body. Checking back into the mirror, I could nearly cry.

It looks like I have dog shit on my eyes.

Second attempt.

 I use a different colour. Picking a subtle silvery color, I dab at my eyelids, it's extremely light, and I flick and dab until it looks okayish.... Next I try to put on eyeliner.

Getting closer to my mirror, I make my reflection nose nearly touch mine. I go around the edge of my eyes, nearly stabbing them three or four times.

Mascara now. I stroke the brush against my lashes, trying for it not to blob around my eyes. 


After I finished the painstakingly long process, I stare at my pudgy face. Not bad Taylor. Not bad.

For my final act, I try to add lipstick, using Joy's bright red one. I wipe it off because I look like a fat clown, and replace it with my own pale lip-balm. 


Now for my clothes. 

I want to get dressed in my normal gray and black tracksuit, but an unknown urge tell's me not to. Staring at my nearly empty wardrobe, I try to  pick out an outfit that would work.

Nothing black. Nothing black. Nothing black.

I think, willing myself to chose something more... Pretty? Eventually, I chose a baggy canary yellow shirt, with black tracksuit pants. 

Old habits die hard.

My clothes look baggy, so I can kid myself I look thin in this outfit.

I try to sneak out of the house, but Joy catches me by the shoulder, herself still in an oversized shirt, (what she calls pajamas) and her hair in a messy bun.

"Hold up Tay Tay where do YOU think your going?" I shift uncomfortably from foot to foot, mumbling something about meeting a boy.

"Are. You. Serious." She stares at me, hands still on my shoulders.

"Not in that outfit your not. Follow me." She leads me to her room, slamming the door behind her. Dragging me onto her bed, she opens up her huge closet. For around 20 minutes, she grabs out different outfits, staring at me, putting them back, etc. 


"No, no no no. Definitely not. No, no. Perfect!" She whips out an outfit, showing it to me.

"It's a little old, but the ONLY thing that would fit you." I look back at what she offered me.


A waist high denim vest, with a black tank top, and a short white poofy skirt. 


I give Joy a look. Not a good one.


"Please Taylor, I know you have no fashion sense, but I DO, and I think you will look amaze-balls in this." She gives me a genuin smile, pushing me into her en-suite bathroom. As I get changed I think,

Please let Joy be right. PLEASE let Joy be right.


I step into her bedroom, watching Joy's mouth drop. 


"You could dress like this more often." Dragging me (yet again) out of her room, she brings me to the door. Getting into my old black doc-martians, I head out the door. I feel extremely self-conscious, but I got enough gut to follow the address Finn Logan programmed into my phone.


Here I go.


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