Thin

Chapter Six - Thinning

Chapter 6 – Thinning

As the scorching water slides down my back, I let myself think of absolutely nothing. Nothing holds the ability of being peaceful, never sending me into a fit of loathing agony. I live for moments like this one right here; it’s so fragile, so delicate.

        I’m afraid to move, that if I do I’ll trip and everything will come tumbling down around me.  Fearing that everything isn’t as perfect as it appears to be and I’ll finally have to look through the looking glass. Reality is always just around the bend, softly calling my name.

        But you’re really just blind when these moments hit. The truth about instants is that they never last; they always end and crush every fragment of hope you had into a thousand microscopic pieces. It leaves you with nothing. You’re at rock bottom; the deep end with an anchor tied around your legs. At that moment, you start to realize you’re broken; that you’re imperfectly shattered.

        There’s nothing you can do to change that.

        That’s when the panic kicks in and the anxiety takes hold of your mind. You start thinking about the “what ifs” in life. What if I just skipped this one meal? What is I just pretend to have already ate? What if I pretended that the scale said 105 instead of 89?  What’s the harm in that?

         You want to hit your goal of perfection. You strive for the skinny feels and it only. Hunger becomes an addiction to you; you’ll do anything just to have it, even if it’s just for a few faux moments.

        You start to go crazy after that. You get overwhelmed by the hope of so many possibilities and dreams. All of them so close to you, if you just stretch your fingers a bit more, you can touch them. You want them so bad. You reach out as far as you can, but it’s not enough. You struggle to handle the fact that you can’t reach it, so you keep trying. During the struggle, you fall off the edge with a hard landing; with a crash.

        Then you suffocate.

It’s too thin.

        Out of all the things that can be thin about me, why does it have to be my hair?  The amount of hairs that has found its way down into the clogging drain is truly specular. Absentmindedly, my hand slides through my wet hair as I think about the shampoo infested thing.  I gently pluck a stray piece of hair off of the end of my hair and onto the shower floor.

        If I tug even slightly on my head, I think I might fall over. It’s been 27 hours since I’ve been strong. I don’t know how many more hours I can go, as I’m starting to see dots fill up my vision. I don’t think that’s a good sign for me, though. All I want to do is invade my kitchen and eat absolutely everything in sight. It would taste so good to my starving taste buds; feel so good to my aching tummy.  I need to digest all of the sweet things, right this instant.

        No, I don’t need them; I don’t need anything in life. I’m a strong girl who can support herself without cracking at the slightest bit of discomfort. The pain will fade away eventually, the pain just a distant memory from the Before era – before hit perfection. I’m so close to resting there, just a few more pounds to go until it embraces me in blaring hope.

        Shut up.

        I’ll never accomplish anything if I just keep lying to myself to that. Nothing good ever comes from lies, just hallowed ended compliments.

        I don’t deserve a single crumb to will ever touch my greedy lips.  Do I want to be fat for all of my life? To always be the one jiggling around, the fat rolls bouncing back up a full minute later? To be the person whom no one will ever love? I can’t afford to gain another fraction of an ounce; I already weigh too much for the floorboards to bear. Soon enough, when I step on the scale, it’ll shatter under my toes from all of the pressure I press down on it. Producers from the Biggest Loser will be begging me to come on the show, so they can flaunt American obesity to the entire world; for me to be their perfect little model student.

        But they wouldn’t change me. The fat will be stuck to my bones forever; never leaving my body and my mind alone. I’ll forever be damaged with the sharp whispers and poisonous thoughts that consume me now.

        I hesitantly run a hand through my hair, letting the darkness fall slowly on my face. The wetness of it adds to my already existing cold, sending a chill to run up my spine. I’m always so cold out, even in my house where Dad sets the thermostat to the same temperature as a sauna.

        I choke back a sob, as another strand lies mockingly in my hand. My heart drops onto the floor underneath my feet, running down the drain with all of my hope.  This can’t be happening right now, it simply cannot be. I’m going bald, my god. Is my head going to be a shiny circle of nothing, a shocking reminder of just how much of a failure I am? I’m not ready for that kind of thing.

        My heart drops all the way down to Earth’s core, slapping me in the face with a realization. Dad may not notice most things, but he would surely notice if I go bald. If he starts to notice, then he’ll do what he thinks is right for me. He would be locking me up; fattening me up to the point of suffocation. Grease will ooze from my skin; carbs will fall from my stomach; fat will anchor me down to the ground, never lifting me up to fly.

        I don’t want to lose my hair or my freedom.