Amelia’s hand cupped a handful of belly fat and rolled it around in her plump little fingers, much like her mother’s bread dough. She pulled at the skin and jiggled the substance beneath while gazing around the dressing room at the gorgeous ballerinas posed in front of mirrors, touching up their looks and obsessing over every detail on their emaciated faces and bodies.
It is heartbreaking to watch the moment that shaped Amelia’s life forever, cascading her into a ravenous pit of hell that would eventually take her life, and she didn’t even realize its destruction.
“Ugh, I went with Peter to the Pasta Palace last night, and now look at how fat I am,” said a ballerina that made Barbie look chunky. “I will never allow myself to eat anything but salad again.”
Amelia carefully studied the body of the “fat ballerina” and looked down at her adorable childlike potbelly. Amelia’s belly symbolized youth and innocence, yet Amelia’s confused eleven-year-old self didn’t know how to see it. She slapped her belly and continued to watch the ballerinas, all with waists at least five inches smaller than Amelia’s. If the ballerinas were fat, what did that make Amelia?
Amelia compared her image in the mirror with that of her older cousin, Jessica. Jessica seemed prettier than the TV models, with makeup that looked like an artist painted it on, calling attention to her striking teal eyes. Amelia compared her hazel eyes to Jessica’s. Why did Jessica get looks and talent while I am so ugly? How was Amelia to know that Jessica wore contacts that changed her eye color and that all the splash on her face was manufactured? Jessica looked just like Amelia beneath the layers of visual deceit.
Jessica picked up a brown bag and handed it to Amelia. “Here is a snack from Grandma,” she said, winking at Amelia. Amelia smiled and caught a glimpse of her crooked tooth grin in the mirror, next to Jessica’s perfect smile. Amelia closed her mouth and bowed her head feeling like she had seen a monster in her reflection. With her eyes turned to the floor, she carried her snack to the corner, allowing a dark cloud to radiate around her. She pulled the pink, sprinkled doughnut out of the bag. Grandma knew this was Amelia’s favorite treat. Amelia looked up again at all the perfect bodies that surrounded her, and she wiped away a secret tear, leaving a sticky pink trail on her upper cheek.
Amelia squeezed her belly again and made sure no one looked her way when she tossed the doughnut into the garbage. She had never consciously refused food before, nor had she thought she was ugly, but now that her eyes were open to her perceived truth, how could she go on eating junk food when she looked like a troll among all the delicate roses of beauty?
And from that moment on, one could hardly get food into Amelia’s mouth, and tragically she lost her soul to an ideal she would never reach.
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The Beginning to her End
by Stephanie Daich
