I check my makeup once more in the mirror

And before leaving the room

I stare painfully at my reflection

lifting up my shirt I look at

my hollowed-out sides with bulging middle

noting that I could count each one of my ribs

if I wanted to take the time

yet I am not thin

pitifully fat, really

And I hold my wrist up to a photograph

of a fashion model

seeing if my wrist bone is the same

size as hers

I'm hopeless, I decide

and examine my face once more - can anyone

see me through this mask of makeup -

this beige slime

and waxy substance that I put on

my face and lips -

who will I fool today?

Yet no one will force me to eat

Pushing the diced up vegetables around on my plate

scrutinizing each bit of fat on a fingertip

Can anyone see what I'm doing -

If I don't eat will it just go away?