Short Story [A work in progress]

I've started writing this story.. My inspiration is drawn from a girl in my Fashion Design class who is pleasantly skinny. If not a little too skinny. For lunch each day she eats a single-serve tub of yogurt [you know- one of those ones that only has four or five spoonfuls in it], a quarter pint [?] of V8 Vegetable Juice, and maybe if she's extra hungry, an apple.
I started writing this when I was waiting for the teacher to actually start doing her job. At one stage, girl-in-my-class leaves the room. If you're special you might be able to pick the exact point in my writing where she leaves.
I don't know where this story's going. But let me know what you think of it.

[Oh, and two days after I wrote this, one girl said to her "No wonder you're so skinny. You don't eat anything!" to which she replied "There's no way I'm skinny. Not at all."]

 ***

***

Vanity.
Aspiring fame, and dreamy faces.
I wasn't like them.
I stuck two fingers down my throat and brought up lunch- a light salad.
At school I was Miss Perfect. Upright posture, neat notes, always handing in homework.

Two hours of cardio at the gym each day, and I swear I'm still gaining weight.
But I'm not like them. Their size fours with plump little lips. Suck the fat out of your thighs and pump it straight back into your bust.
Hips that used to sway seductively now jut out at awkward angles.
I'll walk down the hallway sipping ice water, and I can already feel myself bloating.
Girls talk about hair transpants to make your hairstyle fuller, and I wonder if they can do eyelashes.

I struggle into a dress that's labelled size six, and while you zip me up I watch the girls slip right in like they've been buttered.
Last-second sprint to the bathroom. Empty the water that was pushing out your belly.
Reapply your lipstick. Count to five with deep breaths.
Suck in your stomach and thrust out your chest.
A thousand cameras flash, each catching your worst angle from every direction.

Six-inch heels lift the butt muscles. If a girl falls in these, she goes down hard. Careers have ended from just one slip.
After the show, you walk home with a large coat around you, worrying how fat you look in it. But when it's that or being mistaken for a prostitute, it's easier to skip dinner.

Eyelashes as stiff as cardboard, layered and laquered with mascara for that baby doll look.
Girls that visit the hairdresser every week. Enough bleach goes into their hair to kill all the starving orphans in the world.
Colour on colour on colour.

But I'm different to them.
After the hunderedth time, the gag reflex at the back of your mouth stops working. You'd think throwing up just becomes part of your routine, and you can vomit on command. Instead, you have to push your fingers further, manicured nails scraping against delicate tissue.
Guys start to like you more, though. They find it hard to get off with vomit on their dicks. You can take them deeper than they've ever been before, your teeth pressed so hard against their groin that in one bite they'd have an innie instead of an outie.

***

***

Okay. I know this is short. There's very little content in it. And it has no direction yet.
The plan, I think, is to take an anorexic/bulemic girl and have her compare herself to the models she acts just like. How she sees herself as completely different to them, and that she doesn't have the same disorder. Obviously I need more plotline than that.

I'm also hoping nobody's going to beat me up [via pixels] for hitting this topic. People/females that I've talked to about this subject normally get up in my face about it. But I am female. I do tackle the issue of physical appearance and public image every single day. Especially doing Fashion Design, where we're encouraged to design and draw everything longer and slimmer than it really is.
You must be this tall to ride. --------------------
You must be this thin to live. |------|

You get my point.

Pluuuuus, excuse any spelling errors in there. I was typing with my paper propped up against the screen of my laptop, so I couldn't actually see what I was typing.
And I'm not re-reading it to find mistakes, because I'll end up reading it and deciding it really IS total crap and I shouldn't have posted it. =D