To Tiny to be Real

I can only recall flashbacks of what was going on behind my closed eyelids. It was a vivid dream at the time, but as most dreams invariably do, it faded from memory moments after waking. What I do remember was that first of all, I was skinny. I remember knowing that I weighed less than 75 lbs. I also remember that I had a baby. I don't remember if the baby was a boy or a girl, but it was to tiny to be real. The baby was smaller than my hand, but, at least in my dream anyway, it was very much alive. I don't know who the father was, or even if the baby had a father at all. I think it was the later, as laws of nature don't always apply in one's subconscious.

I snap back to reality and my eyes blink open. I lie there, still,and ponder what crazy things I had just not actually done. The things that really stick out to me are my low weight in my dream, and the baby who was to tiny to be real. I dwell on this a while, still motionless, and decide that I want to be too tiny to be real. Then I remember why I am not. 

"Ana?" I plead silently, as not to wake up my sister in the bunk bed above me, "Where are you?"

"I'm right here, darling." Ana coos as she gently massages my stiff neck. "You should really find a way to sleep other than on your side. Its crushing your shoulder."

"That,"  I think, "Or just take stronger pain medication before I go to sleep."

She smiles and sits up, straightening from her sprawl. She crosses her legs, and I realize that even when she lies flat and spread-eagle, she hardly takes up any area at all. Jealousy tingles the edges of my mind, and I silently resolve to try harder; to do better. She, of course, knows the thoughts running through my head, and smiles, echoing my thoughts to reinforce them. "That, or lose more weight so that you won't weigh enough to crush your shoulder in the first place."

I smile forlornly, because I know she is right. "Ana," I say mentally, as my thought process begins to shift back onto its prior train track, "My dream last night. . ."

"Was triggering?" She isn't guessing, because she knows. It must be one of the advantages to her being a figment of my imagination - that she already knows what happened in my imagination, subconscious or not. 

She slides a few inches to the left, in anticipation of me rolling from my right side onto my back. Absent-minded, I rest my hands on the corresponding hip bone. This draws Ana's attention to them, though certainly not intentionally. "I think your hip bones are sticking out farther than they used to." She says encouragingly.

"Maybe." I shrug. "But you can only tell when I'm lying down."

"Well, you know, the art teacher seemed to notice yesterday that you had lost a bit of weight."

I snicker, aloud, but softly. "She's losing it, and everyone knows. I don't put any stock in a word she says, or anything she thinks she notices."

"You should weigh yourself and find out."

"I'm scared to." I whisper. "I'm afraid that I won't have been able o work off any of hat ridiculous weight I gained over the break on my birthday binge."

"I know you are, sweetheart." she says, stroking my forehead. "You need to though. Even if you are still fatter than you used to be, you need to know so that you can have a starting point to get rid of all this."

I sigh, because again, she is right. I pull myself out from underneath the covers, and the two of us traipse downstairs to the scale in my mother's bathroom. I prod the offensive white box with my foot to wake it up, and wait while it zeros itself. I cringe and step on, wincing at the numbers that begin to climb. What hurts most about the experience, is that I am right. I have gained back some weight over the holidays; curse them. I begin to ponder which diet I will need to chose for optimal results before Prom. If I had things Ana's way, I would be completely weightless before then. But seeing as starving myself literally to death is a good way to ensure that I don't go to Prom at all, I chose not to fast for 3 months straight. 

I decide to fast for the day whole I make up my mind as to which diet I will begin. The process is difficult, because meals at school are the main times I can see my college friends, and you have to pay to get into the cafeteria, whether or not you eat anything. Between wasting my parents' money and seeing my friends for an extra hour, and not seeing my friends by skipping my lunch, I reluctantly choose skipping lunch. Besides, that way, I can get extra homework done during that hour and I won't have so much to take home.

"Good choice, sweetheart." Ana pats my shoulder. "The benefits of skipping that meal clearly outweigh the costs." She giggles and adds, "No pun intended!"
I chuckle. "Yeah, besides, I would be saving money on my school bill, so my mum wouldn't notice that I am still charging coffee almost every afternoon."
"Coffee is good." Ana admits. "The way you drink it has very few calories, and it boosts your metabolism."
"Yeah, caffeine keeps me running on the little amount of sleep and little amount of food I eat."
"Then you should switch to all of that. . . hm. . . What was that stuff called?"
"Starbucks Blonde Roast?" I offer.
"Yes! That's it!" Ana claps her hands gleefully. "Its practically twice the amount of caffeine as regular coffee, and you can drink it black!"
"Not always," I sigh. "Sometimes I have to add a little Splenda and soy milk."
"Still, that's less than Cafe au Lait or Mistos that are half soy milk."
"True." I consent, "But, they don't have Starbucks coffee at the coffee shop at school."
"Maybe you should try borrowing a coffee machine from your friends who live in the residence halls."
"I don't know if that'll work." I shrug. "I'll give it a shot though."
"Oh!" Ana winces playfully and fake-punches my in the arm.
"What?" I say, not understanding what just happened.
"'Give it a shot?' As in a shot of espresso?" She giggles.
"Oh!" I laugh, my eyes brightening, "I didn't do that on purpose!"
"I know." Ana says. "But espresso is delicious."