Baokou Khang

3/28/14

Story #1

A happy little girl whose ten years old thinks the world is in her arms. She believes she can do anything with a little bit of faith and a little bit of hope. She stares at the night sky filled with such bright stars, this is a great big universe where I’ll become anything I want, she thinks. Her parents laugh at her pity dreams.

A happy little girl is a one year older. She’s lost a little bit of faith and a little bit of hope but why? The kids at school tell her she has a tasteless face; that she doesn’t quite fit in. She puts on a smile and ignores what they say because she’s the bigger person. She wants to believe that things will be ok.

A happy little girl enters middle school. She’s got friends with valleys between their thighs. She wonders if she’ll ever be like them. The jealousy eats her up. She wishes to look like the girls in the magazines she wastes her money on. “Those are such unrealistic portrayals of how women look like.” Her sister says. What does she know? She’s already perfect.

A happy little girl is getting ready to enter high school. She’s decided that she’s old enough to think for herself. She’s sick of looking at all her beautiful friends. She needs change so she decides to skip her dinners. The voices inside her head say she’ll be better off without it. They say she’ll be happier. She believes them.

A happy little girl celebrates her sweet sixteen alone in her room. She wants no one to see how she’s still the same old her. Why hasn’t she seen any changes? The struggle to look like a Victoria Secret angel had put her life on hold. How many days of school has she missed? She doesn’t even know anymore. She pretends to love this lifestyle of hers more than she actually shows. Her family looks at her with worried eyes.

A happy little girl turns seventeen. She lays in bed wondering how she ended up the way she did. She doesn’t remember the feeling of happiness or the feeling of pride. All that matters now is the look people give her. Her brain has turned into a machine that’s void of control. A cup of water and an apple for breakfast, a fruit cup and a slice of bread for lunch, and for dinner she allows herself a can of tuna and a spoonful of peanut butter.

A happy little girl turns eighteen. All she can do is look at herself in the mirror thinking, I need to get rid of all this. She grabs at the fat on her skin that isn’t even there anymore. She’s just not the same. Her sister begs her to eat something. Her mother is beyond scared that her precious daughter will lose the fight. Her father wishes he had encouraged her more.

She has a glossy look to her eyes. Now skin and bones she’s content with the way she is. On a hospital bed she’s got her skin painted with needles. She’s hanging on by a thread but she’s so close to letting go. She smiles as her chest sinks in. The world had been so cruel to a happy little girl.