My Short Story About Anorexia and Drugs?
Question by Shane: My short story about anorexia and drugs?
I am currently writing a short story for English about anorexia and drug abuse. NOTE: THE STORY WILL BE TOLD IN MULTIPLE POINTS OF VIEW, I JUST NEED AN OPINION ABOUT THE BEGINNING.
CALE
My stomach churned when I saw the chocolate cake at my friend’s birthday party.
‘You can eat it. Just a slice.’ I thought.
I was offered snacks and drinks from the parents, but I politely refused.
If I did eat a slice of cake, I would have to skip two meals. I know it sounds horrid, but I got used to it after a few months. I was diagnosed with anorexia a year before that party. No, I was not a dieting girl. I was a teenage boy with anorexia.
My entire family was messed up. My mother was an alcoholic, my older sister was a heroin addict, and my father was locked in prison for murdering two men on a bus. Our apartment was in northern Manhattan, in a small Spanish speaking neighborhood. I went to a large public school and attended the tenth grade with my friends Ed and Walter.
Ed stopped talking to me when he found out I had anorexia. Walter tried to explain to him that it was serious and that I needed all the support I could get, but Ed left our clique.
I was a fat kid. My mom tried to take me to a dietitian, but our money was tight. When kindergarten began kids gave me nicknames such as “Chubs” and “Pooh Bear”, and I never stood up for myself.
In the eighth grade, I went on my first diet; which consisted of only fruits and veggies. My stomach would cry during the day and my grades plummeted. My mom never cared about my grades or education, so I never stopped dieting.
Mom never cooked dinner or went shopping, so I would grab some money from her piggy bank, run to the store, and buy some veggies every night.
By tenth grade, I weighed ninety pounds. My fingers were long and bony, legs thin as my forearms, and my face looked like it had no shape to it. I felt empty.
When rumors of my anorexia spread, I left school. Mom didn’t even notice that I flunked out. She spent most of her days at casinos and bars, wasting all the money that could pay for a doctor.
Walter invited me to his birthday party the following spring. I rejected his invite, because Ed and several other kids from school would be there.
“Come on,” he said on the phone, “What’s the worst that can happen?”
“If I feel…uncomfortable, would you be mad at me if I left?” I awkwardly asked.
“Of course not!” he laughed, “Dude, I don’t want to see you get picked on, either!”
I finally decided to go.
Mom said she couldn’t drive me, because she had bingo that day, so I walked the seven blocks to Walter’s house alone.
Best answer:
Answer by Lynn
As expected, you know nothing about anorxia and it shows. Anorexia and drug abuse don’t go hand in hand. Stick with something you know, or take the time to research.
This has as much to do with anorexia as porcupines have to do with porpoises.
Answer by Tonya
Anerexia and drug abuse are two totally different things.
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