Ana says chapstick, not chips My indulgence is green apple, smoothed over the lips I must be perfection, no cracks, no splits, no tears I must look feather-light in everything I wear Clothes are like rewards: 'Am I thin enough for this?' And when it seems unflattering, the answer- to restrict
Ana says write poetry, instead of eating food Write elegies and limericks, to distract from fork and spoon Make your knife the cutting word, the bold, incisive line And slim those pounds from round your waist, ignore it, you'll be fine It seems the mirror adds ten pounds, my mind provides the shame And when it seems I can't go on, I write in Ana's name
Ana says skinnier! No excuse for gain And every meal I skip allows a step up in the game Extra points for exercise, each calorie I burn Is a blessing to my body, which in time will learn To run ever faster, farther, stronger, better Until I look just tiny in those tights and that cute sweater
Ana says no eating, and when Mia interjects I must feel shame for all my binging- a worthless fucking reject 'And of course,' I think 'there's a reason I'm so awful and so down It must be my fucking eating, piling on those pounds' And Ana and Mia both agree, the only way to fix such splurge Is to turn on the faucet and the shower, play rock music, and purge
They say to me, 'throw up, stick your fingers in your mouth' And all but the greasy residue of my shame and guilt spill out I've saved myself from gaining weight, walk out weak but having won I've reversed that big mistake, my will again is strong And I hide behind my water bottle, vitamins, and mints Because eating is an awful sin, and I know I must repent
It seems to me that one day, maybe, way on down the road Ana and Mia can look at me, from my head down to my toes Can run their bony, beautiful hands over my sallow skin and bones And say to me 'you're beautiful,' let me bask inside their glow To get there I must listen, even if it kills me They are the voices in my head, starving me to 'skinny'