l u c y n i c o l e b e e c hxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
the pressure to be perfect is even greater these days.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
She blinked. She hardly ever recieved any mail, let alone from an address that belonged to some counciling center. "I don't need counciling..." she murmed as she turned te envelope that once lay on her bed over. It was already open. The girl frowned. "Why can't they just leave me alone? They always feel the need to invade my privacy or something..." she shrugged anyway, knowing that she couldn't make her parents "un-read" the letter. Besides, if she was receiving mail from a counseling center, then chances were that her parents were involved prior to her receiving the letter. She pulled the letter out and read over it. "No," she declared, "I'm not going to some place where I'll be babied and forced to talk about my feelings!" Tears streamed down her face now, gently, her mascara running and the blush on her cheeks fading away. She whispered to herself "I don't have a problem..." She paused for a moment thinking. "Well, maybe I do..." she admitted, her voice slightly shaky from the tears. "A weight problem." she stated. And with that, she heard a growl erupt from her empty stomach.
___________________
Lucy has always wanted to be a model; she grew up on the idea. Her mother drilled the want to be apart of the industry into her head. Before Lucy could remember, she was modeling infant clothing, and when she began to walk, she was entered into pageants featuring toddlers fighting for the tiara. Lipstick, hair extensions, spray-on tans, and extremely poofy dresses was her life until she was about eight, and pageants just weren't as fun. Plus, Lucy realized that people would rather see a little three-year-old sing "Over the Rainbow" as opposed to an eight-year-old, who had pretty much lost the speech of a toddler. Lucy had matured, so she had to find a different niche. She still enjoyed modeling; she loved it when people had their eyes on her. She had to switch to catalog modeling, though, because her mom had told her that runway modeling as an eight-year-old wasn't going to get her enough exposure in the industry. Modeling children's clothes and being pictured on ads for the store selling the clothing is what she did instead. She didn't know if her mom was simply lying to her about runway modeling because it did get a little hectic at pageants, which were pretty much like runway shows with a talent portion, or just because what her mom was saying was the truth, but it didn't matter; Lucy enjoyed catalog and editorial modeling the first few shoots she did.
And since then, Lucy had found her niche in the modeling world. Photo Shoots were much easier to arrange and make happen; Lucy would go to school during the week, just like any other kid, but then on the weekends, she would drive or fly out, however far she had to travel to take part in a photo shoot. She'd do all of her homework or whatever on the commute to and from sites. She had eventually made her parents enough money to buy two apartments in Los Angeles and New York, which were two main cities she would travel to for a shoot. And she was barely just a teenager then. She wasn't signed to an agency, rather, her mother managed her. She shared a close bond with her mother, even still today. It was her mother that got her into modeling in the first place. Lucy knew that her mom was never a model at any point in her life, but she had wanted to be. She thought that having a daughter into the business would be as close to living the dream as she would ever get. She was very supportive in all of what Lucy did; cheered her on at pageants, was there with her at shoots. And Lucy's mom definitely did a great job as her manager, booking shoots for her months and months in advance. And Lucy never got stressed by the lifestyle; it was exciting, and there was always something fresh for her to experience with every shoot, from the designs of clothing to the setting that is being portrayed in the photo. It was an art; it was Lucy's talent.
The past looped itself over and over again in Lucy's head on the painful ride to the counseling center. She tried to remember when she actually decided that she was going to refuse to eat completely and run her a** off in order to loose that extra three pounds needed to fit the garment. It was something only she would do periodically, sort of like a last-minute rush to book a shoot. By the time Lucy was sixteen, her mother was done living her dream and told Lucy that if she wanted to prosper and continue with modeling, that she would have to finish high school and find an agency. It was all up to Lucy to book her shoots, arrange transportation, find a place to sleep, and everything else in between. It was stressful, but Lucy managed. She promised her mom that she was going to focus on getting her high school diploma before signing to an agency that would demand all of her time, but Lucy didn't listen. All of the photo shoots she did from the time her mother quit managing her until now were all about adding stunning images to her portfolio. She applied to agency after agency, but was declined, or she never heard a response. She figured that perhaps it was because she wasn't a runway model as well, or because she was more into edgy modeling that they didn't want her, but after being refused multiple times, she began to think worse and worse thoughts, from "My forehead is too big" or "My cheeks are too high" to "My thighs are too curvy" or "My hips are too wide". And then, after being declined by a renowned agency, Lucy's mindset shifted to "I'm too fat".
As Lucy grew up, the modeling industry changed; for her and for everyone. The struggle to be perfect became more tough. Lucy had been small-figured all of her life; she has never been bigger than a size two. But, size two was the new forty or something like that, and the designers demanded thinner models, knowing that the people that truly wanted to make it in the industry would go to great lengths to appease their needs. And Lucy wanted to model all of her life, so she did whatever she could to lose weight. It started healthily; eating foods that were good for her body and exercising regularly. Her mother had no problem with it, and supported her. Lucy would occasionally skip a meal or two a day and run an extra twenty minutes in order to shed off a few extra pounds and she would rigorously work on toning exercises for her thighs, bum, calves, arms, chest, and most of all, her abdomen. Her mother pretended not to notice, since it was all innocent. Summer rolled around for Lucy's Junior year in high school, and that's when her health seemed to take a nose dive. She had more time for shoots and such, which meant added pressure to look perfect. Plus, being so busy, she never found the time to sit down and enjoy a meal. Oh, and was it mentioned that she was doing mainly swimsuit and other "body" modeling? She practically lived on the beach the entire Summer, back towards the water, face towards the camera lens.
Lucy never really noticed a change in her health as the Summer wore on; she worked off of sleep and coffee to keep energized for shoots. She kept up with her exercise, too, running at least two miles a day; one in the morning, and one in the evening. She'd put on a swimsuit for a shoot and look at her reflection in the mirror as her hair and make up were being done. She wasn't really pleased, but she knew Photoshop could easily fix her imperfections. Her Summer pretty much continued that way. Then, fall rolled around. It was time for Lucy to go back to school and finish up her career as a student. She still sent some agencies her portfolio and her plea to be accepted, but had no luck. At school, she seemed uninterested in everything that happened and had no real focus. Not even caffeine could help her lethargy. She felt drained, almost as if she was hungover from the Summer. She figured it was normal and simply lived on with it. She didn't let her grades drop below average, and she sort of lost the motivation to do shoots over the weekend. She'd sometimes spend the weekend in bed, sleeping, trying to regain energy. This is what caused her mom to become curious about her health. And this is what caused Lucy to demand more privacy. All it took was Lucy's mother walking in on her changing clothes one night before bed for Lucy to get sent to the counseling center. Lucy would look at herself in the mirror each night and dwell on her imperfections. Her back was towards the door, and Lucy was too caught up in deciding whether or not she had love handles that needed to be taken care of. She didn't notice her mother poke her head in the door and see her rib cage and spine poking out from her skin. Apparently, Lucy's mother had skipped therapy, and insisted on sending her to the North Side Counseling Center right away.
And, here she was, standing in front of this building that contained the dreaded address of the letter she had received a week or so ago. She watched as her mother's 2001 white Chevy Malibu disappeared down the driveway. Just because Lucy enjoyed modeling doesn't mean that she was as snobby rich kid. In fact, her parents were working class; they were very strict and smart with their spending. Besides, Lucy didn't really make enough cash off of modeling for them to be rolling around in dough. They saved most of that money, and partially used it to pay bills that needed to be paid. Lucy wasn't too snobby or conceited either, which is a common stereotype in the modeling world. Hell, she wouldn't be at the counseling center if she was conceited; she thought she looked terrible, which was the reason for her eating disorder. Lucy also didn't find herself as a terrible person, either. She had some good friends at her school, and people would generally approach her and they'd have casual small talk. Most of those people were boys, but that didn't really bother Lucy much, nor change the way she acted towards people. She would sometimes be the envy of girls and it made her feel bad to be somewhat hated, but she didn't feel the need to try and convince them otherwise. She respected other people's opinions, even if they were negative, and even if they were about her.
She glanced down at the large, black suitcase that sat beside her. It was pretty much full with clothes, with the exception of some makeup. Since Lucy had the mindset that she was morbidly obese, she concluded that her face had to at least look pretty, therefore, she never really left the house without makeup on. Right now, her lips were stained a dark crimson and her eyes were lined black. She was natuarally pale, so her foundation blended nicely with the rest of her skin. Her cheeks remained without any blush and her eyelashes were coated with mascara. Lucy tried not to come off as a painted whore to people. She cared about her appearance too much. She had to know what she looked like all the time. She'd look in the mirror constantly, making sure her hair was alright and her makeup hadn't smudged. Every time she glanced at her reflection, though, she always found a flaw, and it was usually that her body was holding more pounds than it should, no matter how unrealted her observation was to her weight. She took her weight this morning and the scale read "89". Tears rolled down her face as she looked at the number. Her mom tapped on the door, asking her if she wanted some breakfast before they left for the center. Needless to say, Lucy opted against that offer. Her mom wasn't a fighter, well, at least towards Lucy. Lucy assumed that it was to keep their relationship tight-knit. She pondered for a few moments on how much it must have pained her mom to decide to send her to the center. Lucy still loved her mother despite her choice to send Lucy to the center. In fact, it was hard for Lucy to hate anything, really. Except herself.
Lucy began to make her way towards the door, struggling to carry the luggage suitcase to the door. It almost weighed as much as her, plus Lucy had very weak muscles, making it harder to drag the suitcase along. Getting it up the stairs was even more tough, as she had to take a break every few steps. She wondered why no one was helping her. Wasn't that the point of coming to the center, anyway? Obviously, the help would be directed towards their mental conditions, but still, Lucy would have at least felt a little more welcomed to the place. It was sort of scary, really. She didn't know whether to expect cushioned rooms or holding cells. Or, would there be fancy, luxorious items inside? Lucy had finally reached the landing of the steps, right as she heard a car pull up in the driveway behind her. She turned around and saw a older woman who looked irritated, as well as a younger girl with pretty, bleach blonde hair. Lucy remembered that she would be sharing a room with two other girls, and figured that the younger girl was one of them. Instead of going inside the house, she waited for them; she wanted to meet the girl now as opposed to later, especially since Lucy knew that they would be spending a lot of time together.
So, there she stood, waiting for them to make their way up towards the doors. Lucy wore an over-sized black t-shirt, containing the band Motley Crue's logo. It was cut diagonally down her shoulder, giving it an 80's vibe. She wore a few braclets and bangles on her arms, as well as a few rings on her fingers. Her legs wore black tights and upon her feet were a pair of studded high heels. Her black hair was down, her side bangs skimming just below her eyebrows. Her crimson colored lips curled into a small smile as they came up the steps, and despite the fact that the older woman still looked pissed and the younger girl didn't look like she wanted to be there, Lucy still introduced herself as they reached the doors. "Hi." she said, cheerfully. "I'm Lucy." She didn't quite know how they would react to her cheerfulness, especially since they were at a center for troubled teens. But "troubled" doesn't mean that you have to be happy with everything. In fact, Lucy was a generally happy person. Happy with everything, but herself.
[ohnoohyescheetah! sorry it's long and dry... i didn't mean for it to drag out that long...]
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
