i need to stop watching self-help videos on youtube

clasping their hands together

they're swinging their arms widely

laughing with each other for a change

their feet silent in the midst of others

stomping and racing along this chicago sidewalk

splashing their feet in the fountains

and swinging around the trees

they're swerving through and through the people

chasing each other like a cat and a mouse

but with no ill intentions

and as they smile at each other

they ignore how one is 45 pounds underweight

and the other has over 100 scars over their body

'what do you see, what you look in the mirror?'

he breathes to her, smoke curling out of her mouth

she does not respond, her head leaning against the wall, back curled against the floor, feet kicked up towards the ceiling

'i am serious. what do you see when you look in the mirror?'

his voice grows as she stares at her, cigarette balanced between his teeth

she finally responds

'what does it matter?'

he groans and palms his face slowly

before facing her, 'so what anna-marette told me was true?'

her face goes blank, before looking away from him

'i want you to stand up.'

he declares, standing up himself and holding a hand out for her

she ignores it.

his face is suddenly distorted by anger as he reaches down

and grips her arm painfully and yanks her up

and she cries in response, a cigarette fallen to the ground

'what do you see, when you look in the mirror?'

he asks her again, and her breathe is shaking, but she glances

to the mirror to the left of them

and she sees them, covered in bruises and messy clothes

hair and makeup is everywhere, and their skin is pasty

but their noses and eyes are bright red

and she glances at him

hands on his hips staring at her defiantly

before she wets her lips nervously, before speaking,

'beauty.'

you're gazing at the fry for a few seconds, before shrugging, easily popping it into your mouth

your face is blank for a few seconds as you chew it, before suddenly your eyes are wide and your hands fly to cover your mouth

and we're watching confused and amazed all the same as you're jumping from your seat and running down the length of the table

before grabbing the garbage can with all your might, and tucking your head in

we don't need to be genius' to know what you were doing.

we just all look away awkwardly as you star there for ten seconds

20 seconds

30 seconds

before slowly you lift your head up, and stumble over to the water fountain

and by now we're glancing silently at our lunches

and he moves to throw his away

as she slowly walks back over to us, silently collapsing into her seat

face white and ashy

--lynn

Modest vignettes that don't deal with anything

we're messing with the tabs of our coke cans as we watch as the curator of the party stumbles over to us, two beer cans held within his hands.

'you know what ladies? you two... you two are beautiful.' he gasp at us, and for once, he's serious looking.

we look from our drinks to his face as he continues to talk to us.

'don't don't tell yourself that you are not. don't be don't be one of those stupid girls who say, oh, he doesn't like me, i must not be pretty. you are pretty. you two are beautiful. and. and if he doesn't think you're pretty? well then. he must not be smart.'

we smile at him and nod our heads and we forget that he has beer swishing around in his stomach.

-------------------------------------------

we're giggling to each other, doodling with sharpie

on the walls of your basement

and your iPod is playing music in the corner

and you lean over to me and grin

breathing out smoke between teeth

as you whisper to me,

'you're my firework'

and you lift your fingers to your lips, taking a quick drag

before flicking the stub again, smoke again

whipping out of your mouth,

and i glance back at the wall

covered in pictures

slogans

swears

jokes

dreams

------------------------------

dear mister mystery;

do you know who you are?

you know who you are

but you don't know who you are to me.

i bet you don't know

that when i see you in the hallways, my heart goes just a tiny little smudge faster?

i have a feeling that maybe you did not.

will you ever? probably not.

[is this a public way of me saying that i perhaps like someone? possibly.]

i just know that it's 2:45 A.M. November 3rd

I've given up on NANOWRIMO

and am spending my time listening to Katy Perry.

andithinkilikeyou

-----lynn

Skinny isn't a compliment.

I climbed flightless stairs, trying to reach my destination.
At the top of the steps there was a feline.
She was the most majestic, maternal creature I had ever laid eyes upon.
Her fur begged you to feel it.
Her eyes warmed your toes and your soul and your heart.

"Hello," She meowed, her voice curling around like incense smoke, mysterious and intriguing.
"Hi," My eyes widened and my mouth murmured in awe.

"They call me," She purred sadly, "The Fat Cat."
She shifted her paws uncomfortably.
"But I am not fat," She said, "I am thin."

"You," I took an encouraging step forward, "Are beautiful."

Her ears perked up enthusicastically, "What is beautiful?"

"Beauty," I whispered, "Why, beauty is...it's special, it's untouchable, unreachable, beauty is the greatest compliment ever recieved, beauty is love in tangible form. Beauty is the eyes dessert, the ears most valuable image, the hearts most welcomed friend!"

"Beauty," She purred, "Beauty. Beauty. It is rather like being thin."

No. I thought to myself. Beauty and thinness are not alike at all. Beauty is round and robust, warm and inviting, inspirational and moving. Thinness is easily broken. Something thin may be beautiful, but not because of it's thinness, only because of the essence of that thin thing.

"Yes." I said gently to her, "Yes. Beauty is like being thin."

How would one explain beauty to such a cat?

--Julie 

It's not a problem, it's a solution.

There is that

I haven't eaten in a week

Feeling

Head feeling like a cloud

Eyes feeling like a rock

Stomach feeling like spoiled milk

Body feeling like the flu

Your mind understands that it needs to eat and your eyes are dying to eat that strawberry pie

But your stomach is fighting your head, wanting nothing but to go to sleep

And your body agrees.

There is that

I haven't eaten in a month

Feeling

Head buzzing with non existent white noise

Eyes forever searching for something they can't see

Stomach cringing from unbearable pain

Body thinning from the sickness

Your mind doesn't even care anymore, but your eyes frantically stare at the mirror, looking for a girl who's disappeared

And your stomach has it's eyes closed, dreaming about the taste of food, unaware that it's right. there.

Your body is snacking on itself, taunting your stomach who can't even enjoy the stored fat your body is nibbling.

There is that

I'm still not eating

Feeling

Mind gone

Eyes giving up on seeing a more beautiful reflection

Stomach drying up, hoping to fall from its longing position

Body hyperventilating from prospective hunger

Your mind and your eyes find the sleep once reserved for your stomach and body

And your stomach is reaching out to death

Your body is running out of supply, fat disposed of and muscle becoming sparse.

There is that

I'm dying

Feeling

Mind dreaming

Eyes blinded

Stomach smiling

Body unaware

Your mind jolts awake with the image your inner eyes visualizes:

Your body, silent and decomposing, luminescent bones finally emerging through skin

The last thought is "I'm finally going to be beautiful"

As your stomach receives its wish.


--Julie

A picnick in the park

Upload photo

Start off with autocorrect

Everything brightens, looks a bit more defined.

Next step, messing around with color, saturation, contrast.

Perfect.

Next to blemish control, blotting out little bumps and bruises.

Now to the fun part.

Adding different colors, vignettes, cutsie stamps of flowers and smiley faces.

Some words for effect.

Brighten these colors, make this black and white.

Beautiful.

Make eyes different color,

A fake spray on tan,

Insert in rosy cheeks.

Wow.

In front of the computer screen,

I look at a beautiful version of myself,

Green eyes, tan skin, no imperfections.

Save as "Imma real brazilian".

Bring up picture on desktop.

What did the original look like?

Bring up original.

Ew....

Brown eyes, scarred face, pale, pale skin staring back at me.

This is what you are.

Look back on the photoedited picture, in all it's glory.

Fake green eyes staring absently,

Plastic skin glowing falsely, 

I guess you're not so pretty after all.

Delete.

Back to the original,

Back to imperfection,

Back to what I've learned to love.

There's feeling in her eyes,

Empathetic smile on her lips,

You're gorgeous.

Save as "Imma real me."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

No.

You aren't pretty.

Yes.

Your hips are a bit too wide,

Your belly bulges too far past your jeans,

You've got thunder thighs,

Your face is oily and gross,

Your hair could use some work,

Your smile is a crooked mess.

No.

You aren't pretty.

You're beautiful.

Yes.

Your hips make you look like a woman,

Your muffin top is a result of actually eating food,

Your thighs are proportionate,

Your face emits a healthy glow,

Your hair is original,

And your smile

Your smile

Your careless, youthful, happy smile

Is the most beautiful of it all.

--Julie