Chère Ana, S'il Vous Plaît Léger Comme Une Plume

Translation:

Dear Ana,

Please, light as a feather.

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Just one more bite. The metal prongs placed a large chunk of dark greasy steak between my lips. The fork scraped against my teeth as I devoured the meat. My tongue electrified with pleasure after every oozing bite of flavor. Just one more bite. The white fluff of thick mashed potatoes slid down the back of my throat. Instinctively knowing the exact destination to quench my torturous hunger. Just one more bite. Just. One. More. Bite. The sound of food slapped on my plate like slop rippled through my ears. To me, this sound, it was beautiful. Like the soloist of a chorus. Or the final act of a miraculous play. I danced with it. I danced with this sound as if it was a part of me. It was something you could almost taste. Even smell. I lived in happiness, I breathed contentment, and I cried desperation with this sound until it not only became a part of me, but was me.

My stomach stretched and ripped as I took my last bite. The clank of my fork against the table brought forth a far too familiar feeling.

Sweat perspired from the palm of my hands. Coldness flushed my face and my heart banged on my rib cage like a tormented soul dying to be free. Everything became so numb. The air, it felt different. The way my fingers dug into the rim of the wooden chair was the spitting image of the horrified thoughts that invaded my mind. My nails slightly being pulled apart from the pink flesh that laid beneath. I felt my throat tighten. With every breath I took, the harder it became to breathe. I held my breath, not only to relieve the pressure building in my throat, but to relieve the pain within my soul.

"Dirty, dirty little girl."

The deep cream of her voice encased the room. My heart fluttered as her slick tongue brushed the roof of her mouth to form words that were to curse me for an eternity.

"Head upstairs. Now."

I knew what was coming next. The dreadful silence killed me as I obeyed every command like the puppet I was.

"To the bathroom."

A chill went up my body as my feet touched the cold marbled floor. Step after step to the mirror. I stood there watching myself. My eyes burning through my clothes as a means to expose the hidden.

"You should know this by now. Take. Off. Your. Clothes."

Pants then underwear then shirt then bra. Routine burned into my brain. Hot tears stung beneath my eyelids as I forced myself not to look at my hideous reflection. Though I could not see her I could feel her breathing down my neck. Standing over me like I was some helpless little animal. A tingle was felt in my finger tips. The fear of the unknown coursed my veins.

"Please." I begged.

"Please?! Are you kidding me? You see that stomach? Those thighs? You put this on yourself. Go shove your fingers down your damn throat so you don't end up getting fatter than you already are."

Down on my knees, I forced two fingers down my throat, purging the evidence from dinner out of my mouth.

"Keep Going."

"It's not coming up fast enough."

"Three fingers."

My body was an orchestra. My index, middle, and ring finger danced like the strings on a harp, creating a tune only heard by the soft flesh of my uvula. The beat of the bass drum filled the gruesome bathroom as my stomach muscles tensed up at every gag. Then the soft play of the violin as the cold droplets of toilet water flew at my face, while I heaved up the last of the extremely bitter tasting liquid. Thank god I'm finished, I thought.

"Did I make you feel better?"

"Yes," I muttered just above a whisper.

"Beautiful. Starve for 4 days."

"4 days?" Confusion took over my body like wildfire, "I don't think I can do that."

"Do you want to be skinny, my love?"

An answer to that exact question came easily to me. Like second nature to my melancholy thoughts.

"Yes, but I don't want it to be this way anymore."

"Don't say that."

"I don't even see people as people anymore. I only see their bodies. I don't want to feel like this. I don't want to think this way. I'm just going to tell my mom about us."

"You're not serious. You think your mom cares about you? Her plan is to fatten you up and laugh in your face when you can barely make it up the stairs. Oh. Hasn't she done that already. Everyone has left because they can't stand being around you. You say all you see are people's bodies, but they can't help but see the disgusting pig you are."

"I don't want you here. I just want to be free."

"Who celebrated the first 30 pounds you lost? Me. Who cried with you when you ate your way back to your original weight? Me. Who was there for you when you slid the razor across your wrists because you'd rather die than see those numbers rise on the scale? Me. Not your family, not your friends, and sure as hell not that annoying guy you call your boyfriend. I was there for you when they weren't! When they all kicked you aside like you were dirt. Laughing in your face about your fat ankles. You are nothing to them.....but a joke. Darling don't you see. I've been standing with you. Me! I'm right here with you! And I'll be damned if you choose those worthless pieces of scum bags over me. After all we've been through."

I said nothing. I watched her in the mirror as she continued on with her speech. Her body inched towards mine. Closer and closer. Her eyes. They became mine. Her body. It became mine. In the course of time, I couldn't tell the difference between her voice and mine.

"You can not live without me. Say it."

"I can't live with you."

"Tell me what you want."

"To be skinny."

"Beg me. How skinny?"

"Please, light as a feather."