Ugly

A look into the mind of a teen struggling with an eating disorder.

When I look into the mirror all I see is my shoulders, my thighs, and my eyes. Too wide, too thin, too flat, too curvy. My hips, my dips, and my lips. My shoulders, my thighs, and  my eyes. Too big, too small, too much, too little. My scars, my wrinkles, my pores. Too too too many. All bad bad bad. My hips, my dips, and my lips. My shoulders, my thighs, and my eyes look nothing like the girl on tv. The girl who gets the guy. The girl who gets the money. The girl who gets the happy ending. She is pretty, I am ugly. I am wrong, she is right. She is happy, I am sad. Her face, her waist, her smile, her hair. Perfectly smooth, perfectly clean, perfectly perfect, perfectly mean. She’s only being honest, showing me problems I didn't realize I had until now. I’m uneven, unsymmetrical, unusual, and unfortunate. She just wants to help. You have to know what the problem is before you fix it. My hips, my dips, my lips. My shoulders, my thighs, my eyes. My scars, my wrinkles, my pores could all be perfect. I just need to be like her. So I will listen and learn. Her tips, her tricks, and her hacks. I will follow each and every one like it’s gospel. I buy the products that burn my skin, I eat the meals that barely fill my stomach, I do the workouts that leave me too tired to get up the next day. I do everything she tells me, and yet I’m still ugly. Too wide, too thin, too flat, too curvy. Too big, too small, too much, too little. I’m just not trying hard enough, It’s all my fault. I punish myself and my body. I cut and starve and binge and purge. I ignore the hungry growls from my stomach and repress the urge to scream and cry for help. I can’t get help, not yet. I’m not even close to the girl that gets help. The girl whose skin barely covers her bones, the girl whose friends worry about her, the girl who’s sick, the girl who’s pretty. Once I’m like her I’ll be perfect. Once I'm perfect I’ll get help. Once I get help I’ll be happy. But until then my hips, my dips, my lips. My shoulders, my thighs, my eyes. My scars, my wrinkles, my pores. Remain ugly. No matter what I do, I am ugly. And that's all I will ever be.

Author's Note

constructive criticism is welcome, just please keep in mind the sensitive topic at hand.