Beautiful?

I haven't really written in a while, but this just sort of came out of me today. All comments welcome. I'd like to know if it's too repetitive, not emotional enough, plain annoying or anything you can think of!

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Mummy, look at me. I am beautiful. I lie in your arms gazing up at you. Your face tells me what you think of me - you look at me like I am an angel; your own personal angel sent to bless you. Face shining with sweat and arms trembling, you hold me. I cannot speak; only look into your eyes as we are together for the first time. I lie in your arms and the whole world falls away as I sleep gently. Look at us, we are beautiful.

Hello, Mummy. I’m coming towards you, with slow, steady steps. You look thrilled with me. I try to move faster, try to get to you quicker, but I stumble. You catch me before I fall and lift me up, high, so our faces are together. You tell me it was amazing, beautiful. My knee hurts and you kiss it better.

Mummy, look at me! Oh, isn’t it pretty! I twirl and you clap for me. I soak up the attention and twirl again, fingering the pink material in my hands. The skirt billows out as I move, it delights me and I giggle. Here, let me tap you with my wand! Now you can be a fairy too! Twirl with me, Mummy! Oh, aren’t I beautiful today?

Mummy, I’m ready! Oh, is that the door? Quick, quick, let him in. I am bouncy and giggly, standing on the balls of my feet. You are smiling too, and before you let him in I catch your arm. Do I look all right? Am I okay? You assure me that I am beautiful, that I am perfect. You hug me and I feel as light as air.

My face is blotchy with tears, and they’ve stained your top too. But still you hold me, rock me, and tell me that everything is going to be okay. You say that I am too good for him, too beautiful for him. He’s a jerk, a scoundrel. Mummy, you make me smile and I nearly believe you.

Stop it, stop it, stop it! Stop telling me I’m lovely; stop telling me I’m stunning. I’m not, Mummy, I’m not. Every time you say it I reach up and grab my stomach, my side, my thigh; I feel the lumps of fat in my fist and know that you’re lying between your teeth. You used to comfort me and make me feel so much better about myself, but now I just turn away and feel tears sting at my eyes because I know you aren’t brave enough to tell me the truth – I’m not beautiful.

Why so worried, Mummy? You look at me with concern now, and you are acting so strange. Every time I check myself in a mirror, or stand on the scales your forehead creases and you bite your lip. But I’m doing it for you, you and me, so that we can be beautiful together again. Just give me some time and you’ll see that it’s all worth it. I’ll be your perfect girl again, I’ll free her from the prison of fat she’s surrounded in and I will be myself once more. Don’t be so worried.

You’re crying now – you’re crying fat tears that travel down your nose and splash onto your lap. Why are you crying so much, Mummy? You cry more, nowadays. You cry and you shout at me whenever I leave the table early, or whenever I lace up my running shoes and head out early. Stop this crying, stop it now. I should cry and you should comfort me. Please stop.

You’re pulling me hard by the hand, and you aren’t crying any more. Instead your face is hard, set, and you march me towards the car. It hurts, it really hurts – I can already feel my skin bruise, one more blooming purple patch to add to my collection. It’s so cold out here, can you feel it too? My stomach is growling at me: it’s a monster, like the ones that used to hide in my closet. But this isn’t your monster to control, Mummy.

Look at me, Mummy, look at me. I’m curled up amongst sterile sheets and bleached walls: everything is blank, including you. You’re holding my hand, but you can’t look at my face, can you? Instead you stare at my body – my ribs, the jutting hip bones, the frail legs curled up in the foetal position. I breathe shallowly and stare at you, willing for your eyes to lift up and look back at me. Look into my eyes, Mummy. Look into my eyes and tell me that I’m beautiful.


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Thank you in advance for any comments!

Hey, Aqua! You obviously know what you're doing grammar-wise and your structure is consistent and doesn't vary into the scary realms of needing correction, so I really have only one thing to say about the entire piece.

Look at me, Mummy, look at me. I’m curled up amongst sterile sheets and bleached walls, lying on a cold metal bed with tubes stuck into me like I’m some kind of doll.

This one sentence--the entryway to the last scene--goes incredibly fast compared to the rest of the piece. It's almost like a quick little burst of info-dump before getting back to the emotion, which it interrupts. Try playing around with this one sentence and see what you can do for the flow. As of right now, it's extremely heavy.

All-in-all, I loved it. I'm not sure what to call it, either, so I won't. Hah. From the detail and the rawness behind the emotion, I'd gather that it's nearly a catharsis of sorts. If that's the case, then <3!

PM me with any questions or comments; sorry for the shortness of the review.

-Lumiface

This is really good. It was kind of hard for me to read, because oddly enough I had a friend that went though this not to long ago. It's nice to read things from this point of view. Gives us a little understanding from someone that wont themselves eat, trying to feel beautiful. Good job and keep writing!

Sierra

Aqua!!

Wowsers! I’ll just start that right there! You made me finish reading something that was written in second person. That doesn’t happen often.

However I did find two little errors…well maybe? Could be one…

…or stand on the scales your forehead creases and you bite your lip.

‘on the scales’ sounds strange mostly just because from what I know, most houses usually only have one scale in them. So using a plural version seems strange to me. ‘on a scale’ sounds, to me at least, a little more right.

the frail legs curled up in the foetal position.

I’m not sure if this is a cultural thing and to you it’s spelt right or what, but my spell check says it should be ‘fetal’ and so do my eyes. Which was my ‘well maybe’ that I mentioned. Haha. I need to be more assertive when pointing things out…or shouldn’t I? You tell me. ^^


Overall, there is one thing about this and that is the use of “Mummy” because you use it a lot. Like…a whole lot. And that did drive me a little nuts for some reason. Especially since it seems like something that a little little kid would say but since this is showing her gradual growing up, wouldn’t she start to use words like ‘mother’ and ‘mom’ more often. I know, at least with me and my mom, that’s how it went. Of course…I might not have any room to talk because now I just call her ‘Patricia’ because we don’t talk anymore at all.

I’m rambling.

Still, that bit aside, I like this piece. This flowed very gradually – though the last paragraph did seem to come on quickish and it could have done with a little extra depth.

*yowsers as I’m reading this, I can’t help feeling like a rusty reviewer*

Anyways, if you have any questions, PM me or drop me a message on my wall.


~lilymoore

Hello Aqua. You were so kind as to greet me and I could not pass up the chance to thank you. So I will now with this review.

Instead you stare at my body – my ribs, the jutting hip bones, the frail legs curled up in the foetal position.

The word I highlighted in bold should be spelled fetal. The added 'o' was possibly a slip of the fingers or maybe it was intended to be that way? I don't know which, but it should be spelled the way I corrected it above.

Now, that part was over fairly quickly. No harm done.

This piece was very true and full of very raw and very sad emotion. It shows how every girl thinks she's the most precious thing when she is young and then someone comes along and crushes her. It's sad really, how some of the men out there are putting a bad name out for some of the nice guys. I like the way you main character talks and they way her sentences fit together and flow. The word "Mummy" becomes repetitive sometimes but I understand that saying "Mummy" a lot is part of your characters voice. There are just some situations where it is said one too many times over a certain length.

Mummy, look at me! Aren’t I beautiful, Mummy?

Take this excerpt for example. One of the sayings of 'Mummy' could be taken out and nothing would be disrupted. Personally, I think you should remove the first one as to not use that word as the first word again. You use 'Mummy' as the first word in the paragraph directly under this one and it teeters on the edge of repetitive.

The last paragraph feels a bit rushed. If there was a paragraph in the middle of the last two that showed how she was gradually getting thinner then the last paragraph would not seem so thrown out there. My advice would be to slow down a bit at the end and give just a few lines on how her condition was getting worse.

Overall, this was a terribly sad but well written read. It's really depressing and somber but very true. You obviously have a lot of talent and I'm glad I decided to read your piece.

Ta-ta.

Thanks for all the reviews!

I'll revise the use of 'Mummy' in some places, and try to slow down the ending a little (I actually left it there because I thought there was too much on it? Oops ...)

But I refuse to change 'foetal'! I will not be American, not! (It can be spelt both ways - as an English person I spell it the English way. )

But yes, thank you so much. All very helpful.

EDIT: Changed a few things, pretty much what I said above.

Yo. Sup.

I'm here to review as requested! You've already got some great reviews, so I'll try not to repeat anything that's already been said unless I think it's necessary. If I do repeat something pointless... Sorry. xD

Mummy, look at me. I am beautiful. I lie in your arms gazing up at you. Your face tells me what you think of me - you look at me like I am an angel; your own personal angel sent to bless you. Face shining with sweat and arms trembling, you hold me. I cannot speak; only look into your eyes as we are together for the first time. I lie in your arms and the whole world falls away as I sleep gently. Look at us, we are beautiful.

N'awww... that's cute. :')

You catch me before I fall and lift me up#FF0000 ">, high, so our faces are together.

I'm not too sure about this because I epically suck at comma's, but I don't think you need this comma here. I might be wrong though...

Stop it, stop it, stop it! Stop telling me I’m lovely; stop telling me I’m stunning. I’m not, Mummy, I’m not.

This is entirely an opinion kind of thing, but I'm assuming that your MC's oldish now, so maybe you should use mum instead of mummy? You don't get many teenagers that call their mother mummy. I mean, it's up to you, but yeah.

Every time I check myself in a mirror, or stand on the scales, your forehead creases and you bite your lip.

my ribs, the jutting hip bones, the frail legs curled up in the foetal position.

Woop! Never back down to the American way of spelling things!

I breathe shallowly and stare at you, willing for your eyes to lift up and look back at me. Look into my eyes, Mummy. Look into my eyes and tell me that I’m beautiful.

Depressing, but great ending.


Overall

I'm going to warn you in advance that this review will be pretty much pointless. WOOP. I really loved this, even though it was a tad bit depressing. What can I say? I like depressing things. What I liked the most about this is probably the fact that it's written in second person. It's hard to write an effective piece in second person, and you've managed to be able to do that well. The concept of this as a hole was great. The way your sentences flowed and the way you used your vocabulary was really smooth and easy to read. Nothing confused me in this, which is quite rare for me because a lot of the time, even simple things confuse me. I found, like, no grammatical errors. There was the odd comma issue, but I don't even know if I was right on them... So yeah.

As for critiques... I'm kind of struggling. The only one I have, which is pretty pathetic, is the mummy thing I mentioned earlier. I'm not even sure if I still agree with it now, either... What it was is that when your MC was a teenager, it struck me as a slight bit odd for her to still be calling their mother mummy. When I think about it though, you could argue that it kind of adds to the effect of the piece in some way. Because of that, I'm not too sure what my opinion on it is now. I think that if you want this to be a little bit more realistic, you should consider changing it to mum in the later paragraphs, but it's not a major issue, not at all. Sorry for the dodgy critique which isn't eve really a critique.

I actually had a quick read of this before I came to review it and since then, I can see that you've edited it really well. All of the stuff that I was going to mention has been mentioned and you've edited this very well after taking your reviewers advice. The only downside to that is that I have nothing say now... I liked how true to life this was, if you get what I mean. When kiddies are little, they think that the're gorgeous whenever they're told they are. They don't care if they run around looking like idiots, if their hair's out of place, or if they've got a different shaped nose, or whatever. When they grow up, that all changes and they worry about literally everything about themselves. You've portrayed that extremely well, so I applaud you for that.

Sorry for the dodgy review, and keep writing!

xoxo Skins

*likes*

Spoiler

I got another star for this review... so go you!

Face shining with sweat and arms trembling, you hold me.

Reading it, “Face shining with sweat and arms…” just sounds as though her face is shining with arms. Kinda hard to imagine, but it’s confusing all the same. Maybe you could change it to “Face shining with sweat while your arms are trembling, you hold me.”

Look at us, we are beautiful.

I love that line! So simple, sweet and exactly what a two-year old would say.

You catch me before I fall and lift me up, high, so our faces are together.
My knee hurts and you kiss it better.

If the Mom caught her, why did her knee get hurt? Just a question.

Oh, isn’t it pretty!

Maybe you should use a question mark?

Oh, is that the door?
You are smiling too, and before you let him in I catch your arm.

The second sentence shows that they are in their own house, so why would she ask about a door in their own house?

Stop it, stop it, stop it! Stop telling me I’m lovely; stop telling me I’m stunning.

Right here she rejects her mother’s compliments, meaning (to me) that she doesn’t want to please her mom, but later on she goes anorexic just to please her mom: doesn’t make sense.

Every time you say it I reach up and grab my stomach, my side, my thigh;
I feel the lumps of fat in my fist and know that you’re lying between your
teeth.

Reach up? If I ever grabbed my thighs (and I don’t think I ever will) I would reach down. Maybe you could just cut it out completely, the part about reaching.

But I’m doing it for you, you and me, so that we can be beautiful together again.

Here she wants to please her mom, but, just as I pointed out above, it comes too suddenly. I think you need more transition. Also, it’s not very clear from this phrase that she goes overboard and becomes anorexic. Since it would be better to lead into that slowly (it happened so quickly I had to reread it) I suggest you mention something about her foregoing food.

I’ll be your perfect girl again, I’ll free her from the prison of fat she’s surrounded in and I will be myself once more.

Free her? It seems that you switch to the third person. Even though it is still grammatically correct (if the pronoun ‘her’ refers to ‘perfect girl’) it is somewhat confusing.

I can already feel my skin bruise, one more blooming purple patch to add to my collection.

Her mom was abusive? That wasn’t mentioned. Also, I wouldn’t expect that from a mother worrying about her dying daughter. Don’t take me word for it though, I have no experience with bad mothers .
…
Waait, did the mom get married? Is that the part about the guy being a jerk? You see, you skip such different time periods between the paragraphs that I couldn’t tell if the girl cried after the mom’s date or months after the wedding…if there ever was one.
Am I making sense? No? Whatever, just space the paragraph’s a little more evenly, time-wise.

I’m curled up amongst sterile sheets and bleached walls: everything is blank, including you.
Instead you stare at my body – my ribs, the jutting hip bones, the frail legs curled up in the foetal position.

First off, it’s spelled F-E-T-A-L. Fetal. >:D
Secondly, why would she be in a ‘fetal’ position, ‘curled up’, if she’s in a hospital bed? As I understand it, they usually make you like out flat and straight.


Now for my psychoanalysis of this little girl’s mind.
I will assume three things, since you do not provide the information.

1. She was a happy child at an early age.
2. She grew up without a father.
3. Her mother re-married later.

The surety I place in my own assumptions weakens in the second phrase, and I am extremely uncertain as to the third, but I will proceed on shaky ground anyways.

Her mother raised her positively, loving her and telling her that she was beautiful. This places a want/love/need for being ‘beautiful’ in her mind that stays with her for the rest of her life. However, these sentences: “You tell me it was amazing, beautiful.” and, “I feel the lumps of fat in my fist and know that you’re lying between your teeth.” and, “I know you aren’t brave enough to tell me the truth – I’m not beautiful.” all tell me that the mother had some problems of her own. Mom must have had some doubts about her own beauty (but I won’t go there) and this carried over into raising her daughter to be ‘beautiful’. Her constant praising of ‘beautiful’ even when the opposite was clear caused instability, or perhaps even caused the child not to care about how she looked, since she was ‘beautiful’ no matter what (and thus the pudginess).
After her mother remarries, the marriage sours and the little girl receives negative responses from her stepfather in the one area where she was very stable, perhaps the only area if the mother had not been able to provide for her emotions in any other area.
She has high levels of discomfort, since she has both negative and positive responses from her parents, making her unstable and confused. A confused child worries, and one way to relieve stress (for some people) it to eat.
Overeating causes her to become overweight and her mother worries. Seeing her mother worry, and fearing that she is no longer ‘beautiful’ she resolves to get thin. She then develops acute anorexia nervosa. Her mother finally takes her to the hospital to have her cured, but the girl cannot understand why, believing herself to be ‘beautiful’ once again.
This ‘beautiful’ she strives for is simply an idea to her, the feeling she had as a child. She cannot see for herself whether she is beautiful or not, and therefore relies on others’ reactions. Relying on such an unstable pillar causes the instability and thus anorexia nervosa.

If all the above is true, then there are three places where my theory doesn’t fit.
One is the point I already mentioned twice, the fact that she hates her mom lying to her, but yet strives to please her. Opposing desires can happen in an emotional unstable child, but it doesn’t make much sense in a story.
Secondly, this sentence, “Stop this crying, stop it now. I should cry and you should comfort me. Please stop.” does not follow my theory at all. It shows the girl’s emotions, and it is not the struggling-to-please/become-beautiful-again picture I painted. Rather, she expresses self-pity, and begins to question her mother’s importance (or her mother’s opinions on her ‘beauty’).
Thirdly: her bruises. Did her stepdad give those to her? If not her stepdad, then her mom, but her mother would have no reason to do that if there was not the negative influence of the stepfather to stir things up. Unless they weren’t doing so well financially, that would be logical negative factor.

That’s all I have to say…

Except this: as she grows older, I would expect her language to change, unless this story is from her little inner child’s POV, or if she was mentally-challenged in some way. I suppose you can leave it the way it is, spoken childishly, but at least remove some of the ‘Mummy’s near the end, or replace them with ‘Mother’s, ‘Mum’s or ‘Mom’s.

Anyways, I really do hope this review helps! I tried to cover areas other reviewers didn’t, tried to theorize her entire psycho-life, tried not to be proud and presumptuous with my theories…and I tried not to be too harsh.

Jenthura

(Also, I would to prescribe her cure: her mom needs to stabilize the ‘beautiful’ image so that she no longer needs to strive. Or, the girl could decide to stop striving for others’ acceptance and live her life for herself. Both of those ways would cure her anorexia, but the second would probably lead her into a rage spiral aimed at her mom.)

I really need to stop now.