Chapter one

Empty

Elizabeth Cecil. Age 15. Plain Jane, simple simon. End of story. She was just another monogonous life, fumbling around trying to find her way. Another kid that had an unhappy home life and a seriously screwed up family, in a seriously screwed up world. She lost track of time more times in one day than an old lady in a nursing home who floats out of one memory to the next. Ofcourse what did she need time for, time didnt need her. Liza was nobody.

If you throw your alarm clock out your window will you see time fly?

Liza turned on her stomach, the empty shriveled up pit she called a pot belly, protested annoyingly loud. Sliding her hand to her middle she slapped it ferosiously, wishing away the hunger. Ever since Liza was able to hold a fork ,breakfast had been her top priority in the morning. Heaping bowls of Cocoa Puffs, Lucky Charms, and her favorite of all, Honey-nut-cherrios. But that was the old Liza, the four year-old Liza whos world was still intact. The newer model was a matured, bitter,leftover of the previous years. Years and years wasted thinking she had it all,thinking, that her life would be as perfect as the stories she acted out with her barbies. Thinking she had the perfect family.

As Liza slowly rose from her bed, bones snapping,cracking and popping like rice crispies, she mentally began to prepare herself for the day.

' Four-hundred jumping jacks, Three-hundred lunges, three-hundred and fifty sit-ups, five-hundred windmills,three-hundred knee bends, Up and down the stairs five-hundred times, get dressed, and then run.' She stretched up, her skin pulling tightly across her ribs, and she slowly bent her body in half, her elbows almost touching the floor. As she began her morning routine, making loud claps with each jumping jack, she went over again in her head the activities planned for her Saturday. After her two mile run and one mile walk back to her house she would, shower, dress, and walk to the little general grocer across the street. She smiled as she thought about the aisles packed with everything that she hadn't had in a whole week. Things she hadnt had since her last 'Big Binge Bash'. Her mother worked on saturday. She had the house to herself the whole day no fear of interruption or being found out.

Diet Coke, diet Pepsi was her favorite but Coke is decidedly fizzier and better for purging. Takeing a swallow of Coke before and after she gorged herself helped the sludgey vomet escape smoothly, quickly, and less painfully.

Granny cookies in bright pink and purple paper bags, a couple containers of rainbow sprinkles(a favorite comfort food since she was a child), two containers of both double chocolate and strawberry ice cream, five maybe more Crisped Wafer candy bars, two bags of Doritoes, cheesy flavour, and the green spicy kind. She chewed these twice as long as a normal person to reduce the risk of a jagged edge scraping the roof of her mouth. Ofcourse her throat always hurt anyway so it didnt really make a squat of differance.

Marshmallows, marshmallow cream, chocolate syrup to pour on the marshmallows and marshmallow cream(rainbow sprinkles on top ofcourse), Resses peanut butter, Eggo waffles,powdered doghnuts, Oreos, vannila wafers, Chips ahoy!! And being right after the Easter candy rush, bunnies and peeps would be half price. In one Saturday Liza could spend sixty dollars on junk food that would end up in her toilet anyway. A pitiful thing to do but Liza was just pitiful all together. She was sick and twisted for deriving joy from her self inflicted pain. She was, she knew, an eye-sore. Even her long flowing skirts,long sleeved fringed tunic tops,and floppy hats couldnt cover up the ugly girl that was buried beneath. She hated herself for it.

Liza's Point of veiw.

After coming out of the shower I stood infront of my mothers long bedroom mirror. I wasn't fat. I knew that, but I wasnt skinny enough either. 5 ft' tall, 90 pounds. I just barely had a heathy B.M.I. but it was never enough to just be skinny or almost sick. I didnt want to be scary skinny, but I just wasnt good enough. My face, round, heart shaped, my eyes, blue, and might I add the most beautiful feature I possess. My hair used to be twice as thick,but now it just kinda lays limp and crunchy, dirty blonde and shoulder length. The one thing I hate most about myself is my nose. It looks like my dads. The thing I like most about myself is my high cheek bones. My mothers. Everone says I look like a blonde variation of Mama. I love Mama more than anyone else on the planet.

I looked at my collar bones, my breast plate stuck out, perfectly visable between my small breasts. I took one in my hand. They used to spill over my palm, but now this one just hung there limply barely reaching past my middle finger. Looking at my ribs I had a thought. It sounds really stupid, but it was almost as if I had given away my boobs for my ribs. I smiled though becuase that had been one of my main goals. Get rid of the boobs, and it was like instant male repelant. No whistles, no winks, no insinuative language that made me feel sick deep in the pit of my belly. I was invisible and invisible was invincible.

Sighing, content with myself ,I pranced naked down the hall to my room. I love being alone, when Im alone I feel comfortable with my body. I feel perfectly human and normal. I slid the closet doors aside, and reached inside for my favorite strawberry red prairie skirt that comes down to my ankles. I know, out of date, but when I bought it it was in. I dropped it over my head and pulled the strings tight, the material bunched up a bit around my middle. Reaching in again I carelessly pulled a random shirt off its hanger. Another worn out favorite. White tank top. I slipped on my ballet flats, and grabbed my sunshine yellow floppy sweater. I pocketed a fifty from my jewelry box and shoved my white sun glasses and sun hat on my head. I was ready to go bnge shopping.