Not A Poem

It's not a poem, but a piece of writing. I really wanted to have all my creative stuff together, so I hope no one minds me putting this here. It hasn't got a title.

**

She looked in the mirror. A fat girl looked back at her. Rolls of fat were folded over her arms and legs. The eyes that squinted back at her were held down by fat, the chins wobbled as she breathed. Her movements were slow, weighed down, but she made the effort to touch her stomach, cheeks and thighs, almost in disbelief that she could be so much bigger than yesterday. Her swollen fingers poked her hips, trying to feel the bones hidden there.

"Curvy" her mother had called her, "you have a real woman's figure." Her father shook her head and made not so subtle jokes about her weight, then called her fat when they were alone. That was almost a year ago now, she had thought that she would show them, but the figure in the mirror expanded week by week, and now comments were muttered as she crawled down the street.

Her family made her go to the doctors about her weight eventually. He took one look at her and had her admitted to hospital, so they could monitor her diet. She knew she was fat, and that she ate too much, but she hadn't thought it had got that bad. However that night, while she was packing some clothes, she looked in the mirror and saw that the doctor and her family were right, she was obese.

They brought her more than she normally ate on her first day in hospital. At first she didn't understand but then she realized that they were testing her. Let's see how much the fatty eats. Let's see how you got this way. Every morning they weighed her, and looked disappointed when the numbers didn't change.

Nobody talked to her much, nobody explained anything to her. She spent the day in her own company, which suited her. She was stared at whenever she left her room. Maybe they had never seen anyone so fat before.

She tried so hard to lose weight, she felt like she was letting everyone down. The morning weighings showed that the numbers were going down, but still the doctors frowned. Maybe it wasn't fast enough.

Her family came to visit her at first. But after a few weeks the sight of her made her mother cry and they stopped coming.

After she had been in hospital for three months a young doctor came to see her.
"We've tried everything," he told her, "I am going to be honest with you. You are dying. I don't know how much longer you have, but it can't be much longer than a week or so. You're heart is giving up. You haven't made any improvement since you got here, in fact you've done the opposite. All we can do now is make you as comfortable as possible. We're sorry, but the Anorexia is winning. Is there anything you need?"

She shook her head and the doctor left her. She was going to die. She was too young for that. She slowly pulled herself out of bed and went over to the mirror, She was fatter than ever before. She crawled back into bed. Fat, salty tears began to run down her emaciated cheeks as she wondered what Anorexia was.

**

Please comment. I don't feel I need to give an explanation, but if anyone really doesn't understand it just ask me and I will explain it to them.