She was gorgeous. Her lips were red, her eyes and hair dark, and her tanned skin was flawless. The skirt and tunic floated about her like extensions of her soul, eye-catching and seemingly effortless. But there was one thing she couldn’t hide or beautify: her hunger. It had grown too big, though she starved it into submission. It constantly nipped her near-empty stomach, snarling in her ear with pointed fangs.
~
Late in the evening, she would stand half-naked by the mirror. She knew she was beautiful, she knew she was slim. But her arms were weak, and there was that pouch of belly fat, and her thighs touched, and her ankles turned in, and her hunger whined and pawed at her, hoping she would snap out of it, but she pushed it to the side and glared at her reflection.
~
Her blonde hair bounced as she dug out her hunger from her purse. It was the new pill, she told me. Reduces your appetite. The hunger blinked lethargically, opening its mouth for a second. Its teeth were tiny and dull so it didn’t snap at her; it was scrawny and frail. She seemed proud, as though control over her wanting could make her a better person. She had lost so much weight, she told me, and didn’t she look so healthy? I smiled and nodded, refraining from saying that her hunger didn’t. Mine was weaving around my legs impatiently, so I headed for the buffet.
~
On the way back, we passed a homeless man. His hunger towered over him as he sat, standing on his back with its teeth around his neck. I dropped a few dollars in the cup, and he thanked me wearily. When we were no longer in sight of him, she started remarking on how bad she felt for him, what we had to do to prevent that sort of thing. I barely noticed, focused on how her hunger was almost as big as his had been.
~
I see these girls everyday. I wish I could help them. They seem so confident, but I know that they are never satisfied with themselves. They wear their hungers around their necks like accessories, and never think to feed them.