Chapter Text
Jinsoul never tried to do the impossible.
She never tried to become one of the Harry Potter wizards, or a superhero with a flashy cape and dazzling smile. She never attempted growing fairy wings or controlling fire and water with spells and potions.
Maybe she should have.
Jinsoul never tried to do the impossible, but from a certain perspective, maybe she did. What she wanted, really, she tells herself, was to complete her goals. Goal setting is good, is it not? Isn’t that what they teach children in schools these days? Shoot for the moon, you’ll land in the stars, go big or go home?
While she would never pretend she was better than anybody else, Jinsoul had to admit she did feel… superior, almost? Because she had ascended into a level that towered over the rest of those people. She wouldn’t, couldn’t stoop down to their height, their sweaty-greasy-grabby-hangry height.
Why?
Jinsoul didn’t need food.
Not like those people did. The rest of them would forever be reliant on food, forced to sit and beg because they were at the mercy of a piece of cake. Not Jinsoul, no. She may have to breathe the same air as they do, tainted by their heat, but she’s not earthbound: she’s light enough to float off the ground, a spinning leaf in the wind.
Jinsoul only chose, still chooses , battles she knew she would win. That wasn’t expecting the impossible, was it? She was just fighting against becoming a rock, sucked into the mud and forgotten.
(At least, that’s what she told herself.)
((Because in the end, convincing herself was the only thing that mattered.))
There wasn’t one fixed starting point.
Her eating patterns had always been a little disordered. And somewhere along the way, that disorder slipped out from her carefully maintained radar and grew bigger, wilder, harder to handle.
But wasn’t this what she was supposed to do? Look at the beauty magazines. Actually, Jinsoul’s not stupid -- she know the world of photoshop and marketing, the absolute hell of lies these companies produce. Her lifestyle’s more like… the health magazines. There it is, that is. She’s cut out desserts and sweet snacks, makes sure she’s not overeating on carbs, and never fails to listen to her body. For at least a year, more than that, she’s never overeaten, never forced more bites down her throat because she’s that good at listening to her hunger cues. They have never told her she’s too full, and for that she’s proud.
(Have they ever told her she’s hungry, needs to eat mo-)
And again, she knows calories aren’t the most accurate. The reason she counts them is for a rough gauge of what she’s eating, not obsessively.
Her friends tell her she’s “anorexic” -- like that could be true. Jinsoul’s seen and read about them, hollow bones and emaciated bodies. She’s not that. Food doesn’t devour her thoughts like it does for them.
To save time, she’ll skip to the very best point she has against the idea of her being anorexic: anorexia isn’t supposed to be a choice. It chooses you , not the other way around. But Jinsoul did choose this lifestyle. It doesn’t count, it’s not real or valid, because she made the decision.
Anorexia? Don’t make her scoff.
Delusional.
Would an anorexic be eating lunch how she is now? Jinsoul’s not an anorexic. Her plate is filled with food, 200 calories divided into 4 groups of 20 bites each. She’s stronger than that. She can eat this because she’s perfectly fine.
She just knows how to bring balance to her meals to have a healthy body.
The people who say things like that are just jealous. Her friends?
(They’re trying to save her from the dem-)
They’re trying to drag her down.
She won’t fall for their tricks.
She thinks back on her teenage years and laughs.
She’d tried so hard, back then. It wasn’t easy, with her parents, teachers, classmates, friends watching her. But she’d kept trying. She’d kept going, never gave up.
She hadn’t needed motivational quotes or success stories to help her push through. Jinsoul had managed alone .
If she could send a message back to her old self, it’d be that she was doing great. Keep going , it’s worth it. It’ll work out in the end.
Look at her now.
The scale number blinks back at her. 45 kg.
It feels good. Better than good. This makes losing the taste of fried chicken and green tea ice cream seem like trivial things, the warm sensation of satisfaction and pride flowing through her like sweet honey.
The next number flashes in her head. 40, 40, 40.
She wants it so bad, so desperately bad, she can taste it.
Which is funny, for someone who never wants to eat anything anymore.
She never should have agreed to this.
It sounded fun in theory.
A girls trip, a retreat with her closest friends. Jungeun, Sooyoung, Jiwoo, Heejin, Hyunjin. Haseul and Vivi had been invited too, but they were hoping to spend more “quality time” together. Couple of the year award, Jinsoul muses. At least they weren’t stumbling around, pretending they weren’t in love with each other now. Yerim, Hyejoo, Chaewon and Yeojin were coming too, but they’d agreed to divide themselves in the two groups and the lovebirds. They’d head over to Jeju for a week, get out of the city, spend time laughing and joking and having a good time.
Which, consequently, involved eating.
First stop, Dongmun market. They’d seen it on Blackpink House, so of course they had to try it.
The smell of the food from the different stalls made her sick. Not hungry. Sick.
She was allergic to these foods. She couldn’t have one single bite, or her lips would swell and her airways would close. She would puff up like a fat cake and her already large body would become even larger.
(Not if it’s only a little bit, you’re not really aller-)
But it’s… hard. She doesn’t deserve to eat, not in the slightest, but watching everyone else get excited about the tiny pig shaped cakes and the steaming hot tteokbokki made her want to eat too. She didn’t need it, in all honesty, but she wanted to get swept up in everything and take a bite out of the creamy desserts and crunchy snacks, let them fill her mouth and light up her smile. Slide down in her and electrify her body.
But they are not for her.
She denies each and every one of the things her friends offer her. She unflinchingly silences the voice that asks her if she doesn’t want just one bite. After all, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. She can refuse other, ordinary food, but doesn’t she want to try this? It’ll be fine, she can always exercise more later…
One bite, two, and the taste will be gone. She’ll make excuses for herself, and have to take three, four, five bites. Then watch out, because trays of food will pour down her throat. Her hands will reach and cram, shove and push, and finally, when she’s about to split open and reveal all of her mistakes she’ll have to die in the bathroom, letting the pills turn on tiny chainsaws that rip through the lining of her stomach.
She’d do it if she were a puker, but no matter how hard she tries, no matter how far she reaches, no matter how hard she pushes down , nothing ever comes up.
She’s not hungry.
The food?
It was never for her, and never will be.
This is fun.
(Jinsoul is a very indecisive person, in case you couldn’t tell.)
They’d gone to see the Jeongbang waterfall. The pictures they’d taken? When there was nobody around to compare Jinsoul’s body to (and show how fat she was), they were absolutely stunning. She scrolls through them, selecting the best ones to have developed in physical memories.
I should not have done
It was nightfall now. The others were discussing how to eat, again .
The maknaes were staying in their own suite, and Haseul and Vivi had their private rooms. Jinsoul had a suite too -- she was rooming with Jungeun, Heejin and Hyunjin together in another room, and finally Sooyoung and Jiwoo in the final one. They’d gathered in the communal area of the maknaes suite, sprawled out on the couch, in chairs. Jinsoul’s occupying one of the armchairs, legs thrown over the side and head resting back.
The others moved like clockwork. Three meals a day, snack in between, dessert accounted for. Jinsoul didn’t know how they did it, and how they managed to eat so much but still be so skinny. The two options they have is ordering in -- “not room service, do you have any idea what a rip off that is?” -- or going out to eat. And which restaurant? What were they in the mood for?
So much energy and effort put into eating. Jinsoul was glad she didn’t have to waste that valuable time -- she could use it for working. Working out. Productivity.
But of course, the others don’t see how brilliant this is.
“What do you think, Jindori?” Jungeun looks innocent enough, but who knows what her true intention is? Bringing her into this conversation when it’s clear she has no interest in this. Jinsoul has to tread carefully, drive around the pylons without knocking a single neon orange cone over. She has to be meticulous, pay close attention to details, make it through this trip without any mistakes.
She’ll pass the tests with flying colours. She has to.
She pastes on her perfect smile, poster child turned disappointment. She lets her lips split open to reveal white teeth, widens her eyes a fraction and tilts her head to the side.
“I’m down for anything. We’re all tired though, so maybe we should just get delivery? We can go to three different restaurants and try food tomorrow, so it’s better to rest today and start tomorrow with these plans.”
They mull things over, considering Jinsoul’s words.
“Point,” Sooyoung says. “Why don’t we just get-”
“The food from that place I was talking about! It’s called…” Yerim interrupts cheerfully, but her words trip and tilt over each other, losing meaning in Jinsoul’s mind.
“While you guys order, I’m just going to take a quick shower first.”
It’s not a lie, Jinsoul does.
(After a quick workout in the bathroom.)
When she’s done, she dresses in her pajamas and sprawls over the bed, book in hand. She won’t read it -- she’s lost the focus to do that months ago.
She’ll pretend to be asleep when the food arrives. She expects that the others won’t wake her up to eat.
Exactly what she wants.
She hears Jungeun come in. Her eyes are closed, face squished against the mattress. True to her suspicions, she isn’t woken up, but the other girl does rustle around for a bit, hoping for Jinsoul to wake up by herself.
When she doesn’t, Jungeun sighs. Jinsoul’s eyelids remain shut, taped close, even as Jungeun takes the book from her hand, repositions her head on her pillow, and covers her with the sheets.
She let her eyes flutter open the slightest bit, just to see Jungeun turn off the lights and close the door.
The wood still doesn’t muffle the sound of clinking dishes, chewing, slurping, and laughter coming from the other room.
She lets herself imagine what it would be like to join the others, become that chewing, slurping, laughing girl having a good time.
But there’s really no point in doing that.
She crawls out of bed and struggles through crunches, abs cramping and neck exhausted.
96, 97, 98, 99.
Does she want to die from the inside out or the outside in?
(Is there any difference?)
No, she shouldn’t speak like that.
Jinsoul’s not sick, she’s strong.
So incredibly, unfathomably, amazingly strong.
Because Jinsoul never tried to have her cake and eat it too.
She didn’t even try to taste it. Not one single bite.