Ana - 2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

“In the past, you heard your parents and your teachers talk about you. You were so “mature”, so “intelligent”; they said you were “ten going on thirty”. Where has that gotten you, may I ask? Absolutely fucking nowhere! You aren’t perfect, you don’t try hard enough, and all you do is waste your time with friends, hobbies, family, school, and all that other bullshit!

Such acts of indulgence will not be tolerated in the future.”

-excerpt, Letter From Ana

“Seth, supper’s ready!”

I looked up, hearing my mother’s voice. The last thing I wanted to hear right now was anything about food. Almost two full days without food, almost! I was so close, but I was getting hungry. I kept thinking about how the food was just right there, just down the stairs, just take a left, just step into the kitchen, just open the refrigerator…

But that would be weak. I might as well just go eat some lard while I’m at it. If I ate, the careful glass wall of control I’d constructed between myself and food would be shattered, and I wouldn’t be able to control myself. The first bite would turn into another, and another.

But that first bite would be so good! It would be the best food I’d ever had! I started into the kitchen, saliva surging into my mouth quicker than it ever had before as I smelled fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and the crisp, fresh smell that comes from a recently prepared salad.

I walked into the kitchen, but then I remembered Ana. I started counting.

One- I still weight 170 pounds…

Two- My stomach still jiggles if I poke it…

Three- That boy from class, his stomach was so small compared to mine…

Four- That boy probably thinks I’m disgusting…

Five- A LOT of people probably think I’m disgusting…

Six- I think I’m disgusting…

That was all it took. “I’m not hungry, I had something to eat after school.” I told my mom. She looked up, a brief look of concern crossing her face.

“Well, that’s fine, but it’s here if you want it, hon.”

Safe. I had almost messed up. I came so close. My heart was actually pounding, and I felt so stupid for even considering that food was worth the little bit of temporary comfort it provided. Nothing was worth losing control, ever. I was serious when I said I would not be fat anymore.

I shut the door to my room, and dug the package of caffeine pills out of my pocket. After popping one in my mouth, I set them in the top drawer of my dresser. I thought I would pick out the clothes I wanted to wear tomorrow while I was going through drawers. I shuffled clothes around, looking for something suitably baggy to hide the number of fat rolls I had.

I noticed then that my mom had put some clothes on my bed. I didn’t recognize them, though. Oh! They were new. She must have gone shopping. I’m such a sucker for new clothes; I thought I’d try them on.

After I took off my shirt, I looked in the mirror. I smiled at what I saw. It seemed that my belly had started to get just so slightly smaller… but not nearly as much as I thought it should have after two days without food. The smile instantly became a frown of disgust.

“You’re such a fucking cow…” I mumbled to the mirror, my lip turned up and my nose wrinkled. I quickly snatched the shirt from the bed, and slid it on to hide my protruding stomach. To my horror, the shirt was nearly skin-tight. I felt absolutely gigantic without having baggy clothes to hide the fat. Looking back, I’m sure I would have vomited if anything had been in my stomach. It’d been years since I’d worn anything like that.

I snatched the shirt off so fast I heard a few stitches here and there rip. After I threw it across the room, into the corner trashcan, I picked up the pants to examine them.

They were a size 32 waist! What the hell was my mother thinking?! I wore size 38 waist pants! I reached down to pull the ones I had on back up over my hips, wondering what had gone through her head to make her buy these. I knew better than to even try them on, all it would do was make me mad.

Maybe my dad talked her into getting those size clothes. He was always talking about how huge I looked in what I wore. Maybe this was his twisted way of sending me a message to let me know how much of blimp I was. I sighed, knowing that this was getting me nowhere. A distraction would be great.

I hopped on my laptop, and started cruising around the internet. I’m definitely one of those people that always has a project going on. So, a couple hours later, I found myself checking e-mail. Mixed in amongst the ads for penis enlargement and porn was the e-mail I’d been looking for.

“Sorry, but I just don’t think…” and that was all I had to read. The forum I was part of had shot down another one of my ideas. Did it matter that I was one of the people who originally started the forum? Did it matter that they owed me a hell of a lot? Did it matter that they had no fucking idea what they were doing? Of course not. I could feel myself starting to spin out, getting more and more pissed off by the second.

I growled to myself and turned on some music. I needed something, but I wasn’t sure what. The more I thought about it, though, the more I thought about the fried chicken I knew was waiting for me.

I stepped off of my bed, setting down the laptop. “Don’t do it, you’ll regret it,” the back of my mind told me. I ignored it. My feet made tiny padding noises across the hard floor in the kitchen. Almost horrified at myself, my disgusting, filthy, fat self, I opened the refrigerator door.

The bulb inside cast a light across the dim kitchen, and I half expected alarm bells to ring. “He’s eating! Look, Ana, he’s breaking his promise! This fat, filthy cow lied to you!” I could hear the snitch in my head screaming frantically. I wanted to close the door, I wanted to so bad.

I just couldn’t.

One piece, two pieces, three pieces of chicken. A huge glass of cola. A big bowl of mashed potatoes, with gravy, no less. There was a quarter of a pecan pie on the top shelf, but there wasn’t when I closed the refrigerator door.

My stomach was absolutely full. Even so, I don’t think I had ever felt more empty inside. I went to my room, laid on the bed, and started to cry. The mirror on the other side of my room seemed to taunt me, laughed at me, reminded me that I was a worthless fatty who would never do anything right. It reminded me that everybody lied to me, they lied and made fun of me behind my back.

The little bit of control I had was gone. The little bit of happiness I’d gotten was shattered. The thing line of hope I intended to follow was cut, and it would take so long to get it back. I didn’t know if I could deal with it.

Unless… unless I undo what happened. How difficult was it to throw up? I mean, really. All I did was mess up once. It wouldn’t happen again, and if I got rid of the food, then it would be like nothing ever happened.

Ana would forgive a momentary lapse in judgment. It happens to the best of us. She of anyone would understand.

I ran to the bathroom, nearly slipping in a little puddle of water someone had neglected to dry. I wondered briefly if my mom or dad would wake up from me making so much noise, but I didn’t care. I had to get rid of that food before it actually started absorbing into my system, becoming the fat tissue I wanted so desperately to rid myself of.

I yanked up the toilet lid. The seat followed close behind. First I pressed one finger down my throat, but all I did was gag. This wasn’t as easy as I thought it was, and godDAMN did it hurt. Blinking away tears, I tried again, but with two fingers.

I rubbed them hard across the furthest reachable part of my pharynx, and was rewarded by a hand covered in vomit. Again, and again, I repeated this, stopping just long enough to rinse my hand off before putting it back in my mouth.

I vomited up everything I had in my stomach, and was rewarded with the feeling I had before. I was back in control. I could do this. It was a little tainted now, the feeling I mean, but salvageable. I could almost feel Ana smiling at me, proud that I wasn’t going to stay a fat-ass after all.

My throat burned, and I was slowly catching my breath. As I stood, my head swam for a moment, but I didn’t pass out. As soon as I stood up, I felt better, stronger, more in charge than ever before.

I went to bed resolved to continue my struggle. I wouldn’t give up. Things would go my way, I’d see to it.

And it was all thanks to Ana.

“Sometimes you will rebel. Hopefully not often, though. You might recognize the way you felt before, and venture into a dark kitchen. The cupboard or refrigerator will draw you. Your eyes will move over their contents. You’ll find your hands reaching out lethargically, like a nightmare, to the box of crackers. You shove them in, mechanically, not tasting but relishing the fact that you are going against me. You eat another box, and another, and another. Your stomach will become bloated and grotesque, but you won’t stop. And all the time, I’m screaming at you to ‘Stop, you fat cow, you have no self-control, you’re going to get fatter!’

When it’s over, you’ll cling to me again. You’ll ask me what to do. You don’t want to be fat. You broke a cardinal rule, you ate, and you want me back. I’ll force you to the bathroom, to your knees, staring into the void of the toilet bowl. Your fingers will be inserted into your throat, and not without a great deal of pain the garbage you ate will come up. Over, and over, and over, until you spit up bloody water and you know it’s all gone. When you stand up, you’ll feel dizzy. Don’t pass out! Stand up right now! You deserve to be in pain, you fat cow!”

- excerpt, Letter From Ana