Fat. Fat - Fat

973 Words Nov 16th, 2015 4 Pages
Fat. Fat. Fat. That’s all I see in the mirror anymore. I am fat and that makes me ugly. No one could possibly love and care for a fat, ugly person. That’s what my dad shouted when he left my mom for a prettier, skinnier, perfect-looking woman. If he would leave her for that reason, then someone will probably leave me for it too. I won’t allow for that to happen. My thighs are the size of giant sequoias that grow in California. My stomach will never become flat enough. These ribs that stick out of me need to go. They only weigh me down. My roommates tell me things like, “Adele, you’re too skinny.” I don’t believe them; they’re just jealous that I will be able to reach perfection before they do. I take my glance off of the mirror and find my bathroom scale. I exhale and step onto the small, white contraption. It reads 98.2. A sigh of exasperation escapes my lips as that dreadful number pops up. I knew I should have only ate two crackers yesterday; three proved to be too much. I no longer can trust food. All those little calories, carbs, and fats are out to get me. I think of them as little, disgusting, green bugs. It helps discourage me from eating no matter how much my tiny, shrunken stomach protests. On the days that I feel really fat, like today, I will eat a cracker and take a few sips of water at the most. Other days, I might feel generous and indulge in two or three crackers and maybe a small piece of fruit. I have to meet my goal weight of 95 lbs by Friday, and it’s…
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