[ɪˈmadʒɪn] || ^©•°𝑨 𝑴𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊-𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒏 𝑯𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏 °•©^

💟 ~ Thirteenth Reason 💟

Trigger warning: Self Hate

Y/N pov
Being on the bigger side never really helped, especially as a teenager, among family members, friends, the opposite and same sex and it was frustrating. I tried my best to act as if it didn't bother me, but I hated every inch of my body, every single inch.

And here I sat in that sickening predicament again, I saw her eyes follow my actions as my hand made it's way to the pizza box, I hoped she wouldn't say anything about it. "Isn't that your fourth slice?" She said looking at me in disgust, "Y'all really don't think about nobody else, greedy ass"

I put the slice down immediately losing any form of an appetite not even caring for juice or soda and automatically going for a glass of water.

She always did this, they always did this, in the subtlest of ways they did it. I put up with their oblivious borderline homophobia, I put up with that shit every single day because I know it'll never change. I put up with this criticism every day about every little thing. It's always, "she not gonna do no exercise she so lazy"

When in reality I never exercise because of the "ohhh your exercising? How much pounds have you lost? " the amount of ridicule in that one statement is enough to make a person give up on everything. I try to be put up this act like I love my body and I love the skin I'm in when in fact I hate the fact that I'm built this way. It's infuriating that they think the body shaming would make me pick up the initiative.

All this ran through my mind as I drank the water not bothering anyone else's glare, not bothering to listen to their conversations or pay attention to any of their interactions.

Why should my food intake be their concern? Why is it that they question when I eat little and judge when I eat large? Why do they always assume I always want a large amount of food? Why can't I just do me?

I removed myself from their presence and went to my room, trying to hold my tears back and giving short, sarcastic responses to their questions. I made my way to my room and sighed as I got under the blanket, wanting to fade away from everything. I was weak, to weak and sensitive to not care and even weaker to help myself in the act of fading. I tried, I tried on multiple occasions, two really, but couldn't bring myself to it, I couldn't.

I always felt like I had a lot to live for.

I drowned out their sounds with music as one of the Spotify playlists I created blasted through my ears, I didn't want to hear their voices, I didn't. I wasn't even over two hundred pounds yet they treated me as if I needed to appear on the show my six hundred pound life, I hated it.

I stared at my thighs and stomach, wish that somehow they'd shrink with the intensity of my glare but nothing changed. A long tear flowed down my cheek at the sight as I stared through glossy eyes, more followed quickly after, drowning my cheeks in the salty stream. I didn't even bother to wipe them, not caring that snot was now blocking the breathing passages of my nostrils, good, I'd die this way.

I swear to God this weight would be my thirteenth reason.

.

Eight years later, at age twenty two and yup, still a fat bitch.

I still cried my overweight ass to sleep every other night, but It doesn't matter, because I have a blossoming career now and unlike every other female in this sexist company, nobody suspected that anyone slept with me for my position, it made me at least feel respected in a way. Although everyone labelled me undesirable and that shit stung like a bitch sometimes, I was fine with it. I wasn't looking anyway.

Not until yesterday at least,

Not until him.

He was definitely something to pay attention to at least among the men in the office though. The women at the company were regular to me, don't get it wrong, some had pretty faces and the bodies to match but the way the sucked up to the men turned me off. That in itself didn't even matter, they all looked at me in the same disgust she did. They all whispered about me.