When I was young I used to want to be a singer
But my mother said, Mija that job is not for you
Successful singers are not usually brown, Try something else.
So I wanted to be a baker and open up my own Panadería.
But my mother said No, mija that job doesn’t make money, try again.
When I was in fifth grade I decided I wanted to be a writer
And my best friend Dulce would do the illustrations.
But then phones started evolving and no one read anymore.
It wasn’t cool.
In seventh grade I wanted to be pretty...
And my mom didn’t tell me no this time.
So I began to forgo meals. Eat an orange for lunch.
When you’re strong enough you can shorten it to half.
Soon I was eating only one piece and pretending I was full.
I started getting compliments on how I looked so slim, in dance.
But this only encouraged me to want to be more thin.
Bones are beautiful, can’t you see !
I’m creating a masterpiece with my body.
They don’t understand , they want me to be fat.
I’m just trying to arrive at my goal.
Eat, just eat, why don’t you eat, they say
NO. I have to be skinner for ballet
Thinner. Thinner. Thinner. no Mom, there’s nothing wrong with your dinner
I just want the top of my arm to be the size of a quarter and
I just need my thighs to have a gap when I sit down
I just need to drown myself in dance and continue body conditioning
the addiction deafeningly loud but no one was listening
no, I am not addicted to food
but I am addicted to the rush of starving.
Im addicted to the feeling.
And no one talks about that. So it makes it more okay.
Even though now I want to be strong and independent and smart
and I know looks aren’t a reflection of the soul
the little girl still creeps back into my head
wanting to be pretty.