Maeve in the Mirror

Trigger warning for eating disorder themes, self harm, mental health

Maeve’s heart was still racing from her run when she pulled down her shorts and let them slide to the floor. Kicking them aside, she lifted her t-shirt over her head and dropped it next to the shorts. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath before turning to face the full length mirror.

Maeve let out her breath slowly as she opened one eye, and then the other. She glared at the reflection in front of her, scanning from top to bottom. Her bright red face and sweaty temples stood out right away.

She scowled as she continued her assessment. Scraggly, greasy hair, and puffy, dark circled eyes fueled her self loathing. A fleshy double chin made her want to retch. Her jumbo, jiggly triceps, sad, saggy breasts, and plump, bloated belly infuriated her, but it was the flabby, cellulite riddled thighs and enormous clown feet that sent her over the edge.

Maeve grabbed her belly roll and squeezed as hard as she could. She raked her nails across her thighs.

“I wish I could rip it all off,” she muttered

Maeve glanced in the mirror as she ran her hands over the angry red marks left behind. She thought she saw the girl on the other side of her reflection wince when she pinched her gut again, but that couldn’t be. Her eyes were playing tricks on her. It was probably something that happened to fat people. Maybe all her lard was making it impossible for her eyes work properly.

“Disgusting!” she snarled, as she pulled her shorts back up.

“Five more miles, Fatty!” she spat, as she slipped her t-shirt back over her head.

Maeve stomped out the door and pounded out her second run of the morning. She returned an hour later, too weak and exhausted to even look in the mirror. She didn’t notice the tears threatening to fall down the face of the girl on the other side of her reflection.

Maeve shed her workout attire and jumped into the shower. She only let the water get barely luke-warm as lathered her head with shampoo, and used the extra to wash her body. People as gluttonous as her didn’t deserve to be comfortable, and she wasn’t going to waste the fancy, expensive body wash she’d been gifted on her fat, undeserving body.

She stood under the shower, desperately wishing she could rinse away all the parts of her that were too much. When she was done, she turned off the faucet, wrapped a towel around her hair, and another towel around her body. Her eyes avoided the mirror as she passed it on the way to her bedroom.

For weeks, this was her routine. Run, and then run some more. It was summer break, but Maeve missed out on every single invitation from friends because she was too busy exercising. She passed up summer job opportunities, because she didn’t want her body to be seen. She mostly avoided the mirror, and anything that might show a reflection, except when she needed inspiration to push herself further.

One night, after returning from her third run of the day, Maeve stepped on the scale. She was down three pounds this week, for a total of twenty pounds since summer began. She wanted to finally start seeing a change in her body.

Maeve took a deep breath and scrunched her eyes closed. It physically hurt to look at herself, but she had to do it. She turned to face the mirror, let out her breath, and opened her eyes.

She scanned her body from top to bottom. Same scraggly, greasy hair, and puffy, dark circled eyes. The fleshy double chin was maybe slightly smaller, but it still made her want to retch. Her jumbo, jiggly triceps, sad, saggy breasts, and plump, bloated belly hadn’t seemed to change at all. Her flabby, cellulite riddled thighs and enormous clown feet still enraged her.

Maeve dug her fingernails into her thighs and scraped as hard as she could. She tore at the skin on her legs. The stinging pain was the only thing that brought her any relief from the feelings of disgust that consumed her.

“Still a fatty. I’ll always be disgusting,” she whispered, as she pinched her stomach roll.

The girl on the other side of her reflection flinched and cried out.

“What the hell?” Maeve gasped.

Tears streamed down the face of the girl on the other side of her reflection.

“No. This is crazy. No, no, no. Not only am I fat, I’m also insane,” Maeve muttered.

She turned the shower on full blast, then turned the dial as hot as it would go. She wanted to steam up the mirror, so she wouldn’t have to see everything that was wrong with her.

Maeve stepped under the spray of water, and took the scalding mist on her open wounds as punishment for all the parts of her that were too much. When the hot water ran out, she turned the shower off, hid her body in a towel, and ran to her room.

Behind a foggy film, the girl on the other side of the mirror watched Maeve escape the bathroom without a glance back. She cried, and screamed.

“Why can’t you just love me? Why am I never enough?”

Maeve refused to look. She refused to listen. All she could hear was the voice inside her head, telling her she was fat and repulsive.

Two weeks later, Maeve was back on the scale. Ten more pounds were gone. She loved seeing that number get lower and lower, but it was never quite low enough.

Maeve was running more miles each day than the one before. Her body felt like it was falling apart. She was hungry, all of the time. She often dreamed of eating massive amounts of food, and then woke up in a panic, scared that it was true.

Most of Maeve’s toenails were now purple, from the trauma of pounding pavement daily, and the rapidly increasing number of miles she was running. Several nails were about to fall off.

Maeve took a deep breath and turned to face the mirror. She scanned her body from head to toe. Still the same scraggly, greasy hair, and puffy, dark circled eyes. The ever present fleshy double chin that always made her want to retch. Her jumbo, jiggly triceps, sad, saggy breasts, and plump, bloated belly that never seemed to change at all. Her flabby, cellulite riddled thighs and enormous clown feet still disgusted her.

Maeve was about to claw at her thighs in anger when the girl on the other side of her reflection screamed at her to stop.

“No! Don’t do it! Those legs have carried you over hundreds of miles, and they never gave out on you. Not once. Not even when they were starving and exhausted!”

Maeve rolled her eyes. “Not this again! I’m losing my damn mind!” she muttered.

“Stop, Maeve! Stop before it’s too late. Stop before you damage your body. You need help, Maeve. Please get help,” pleaded the girl on the other side of her reflection.

Maeve swiped her hand across the mirror. She could finally see her real reflection, and not the one the voice in her head wanted her to see. Thinning, malnourished hair, and sunken, dark circled eyes. Sharp cheek bones. Gaunt arms, deflated breasts, jutting hip bones, a concave belly, and knobby kneed. Maeve didn’t recognize who she had become.

“You need help, Maeve,” the girl on the other side of the mirror repeated.

“I need help,” Maeve whispered.

Tears spilled down both faces, and Maeve knew it was true. She jumped into the shower, her tears mixing with the warm, soapy water that was dripping down her body.

Three months later, Maeve stood in front of the mirror again. This time, she radiated  health and happiness. It had taken a lot of therapy and hard work, but her vision was clear once again. She hoped it would remain that way forever.