Etude.

Content warning: mentions of an eating disorder and body image

An etude is a short musical composition designed as an exercise to improve technique or demonstrate the skill and capability of a player.

I am 

the sweet air of a new dawn, 

the lilting melody of something new, 

something different— 

something better.

They say 

practice makes perfect.

Well, 

here I am telling you that what they say is true.

my very nature is to

Practice,

to get in the habit, to imbibe, to perfect. 

She steps on the scale, 

Again, 

And Again, 

And Again, 

Till it becomes second nature, a force of habit, an unbreakable bond. 

Practice:

to refine, to improve, to ameliorate.

Oh, how she wishes she could be perfect, 

Even the slightest bit like Them, with their

Waists that their hands can wrap around, skyscraper legs with that 

Elusive Gap, Arms that don’t bulge when they fold.

So she refines. She starves, because Yes, Starvation is 

Refinement.

To become worthy of Them, who are worthy of Everything, and Everyone. She wants to be Someone. 

Practice, 

to get to a better level, to move on to bigger and better things.

Hidden food, head perpetually sunk into the toilet bowl, 

she chews and chews and spits. 

She feels sick. Sick with guilt, sick from starvation, sick from the sticks Her arms and legs have become, yet no one tells her she is Perfect, that She is Worth It, so she keeps going. She just needs to Practice 

More. She needs to get better.

Practice, 

When does it end? 

Of course, when 

perfection 

is finally attained.

She finally hears something. 

“You Don’t Look So Good.”

Her heart sinks, the girl who always wore two sizes too big, 

The girl who never went to the beach because her stomach folded in 

Unspeakable rolls, 

the Girl who is now a Ghost, a Skeleton.

She Worked and Worked and Practiced 

And yet, has gotten nowhere. She still doesn’t look good. 

Neither then, nor now, two extremes, no in between.

She is Icarus, flown too close to the sun.

She is still a No One. 

She will never be one of Them.

----------

I was

the sweet air of a new dawn, 

the lilting melody of something new, 

something different, something better. 

The exercise, the carrots and celery and the water, the things that were “perfect for her body”.

At least, that’s what they sounded like.

In theory.

But things don’t always work the way we hope.

I am an etude. 

I was the lilting 

melody of something new, but now I am

A haunting memory of what happens when you 

Go Too Far, 

A bitter pill to swallow, now that I know,

some things don’t need to be improved. 

Some things, are meant to be left as they are, 

untouched, 

imperfectly perfect. 

But is all hope lost for me? 

I should not say so. 

Because through the 

Practice, 

The Tears, 

The Loss and the Gain, 

The Restoral of Peace, 

The girl learned something. 

She learns the hard way, that some things in life are 

Necessary.

The Food, the Health, the Happiness.

Powerful restoratives, which cannot be compromised.

She gained the weight back, but she also gained her life back. 

Through the practice she lost, but she grew

Stronger, more 

Capable,

Understanding, 

Patient, 

Loving.

She understands now, that why seek perfection when you can seek out the value in yourself? Why should you change when there is so much capability within the blessed body that you come with?

She is no longer Icarus. 

She is Daedalus, all the wiser, now that she knows.

I am an etude. 

The sweet melody of a new dawn, 

tip toeing on the edge of a crevasse, 

that narrow space between 

Knowing Yourself, 

And 

Losing Yourself.

So use me with a pinch of salt, 

knowing I work best in sparing doses. 

I can help you lift your feet off the ground, as 

long as you know you can get back down 

on your own.