I wake up with swollen eyes and a dry throat. I look at the clock to see that it is already 10 a.m. But thank god it is Sunday. My tummy makes weird noises to tell me it is hungry and that I will starve if I don't get my calories soon.
You know? The skinny people don't have enough fat and carbohydrates stored, to fight their hunger. But they do feel hungry.
So, I walk downstairs to get some food, in my brother's huge tee shirt and baggy pants. I walk to the kitchen to help myself with some milk and toast when Mum walks in.
"What's up with you?" She asks, sounding worried.
I hate that tone. It is the kind of tone which is usually directed towards someone deceased or dying. I am not dying Mum. I say to myself.
"What's up? Nothing's up." I reply out loud.
"You get really upset over trivial matters, as I have noticed. Dad worries about you..."
"Mum. Stop it." I cut her off.
"NO." She says firmly.
"What do you want Mum?" I ask her looking at her, straight into her eyes.
"You are not healthy." She says.
"I know. I am not. But your comments on the dinner table are not helping."
"But..."
"Mum. I swear! I swear I am trying." I break down showcasing one more weakness apart from my physical weakness.
She hugs me tight to take my sobs in.
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Stop skinny shaming. It is as worse as fat shaming.
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A/n:
I hope you liked this update. Please please comment your opinion, even if it is plain criticism. Do comment.
Vote if you liked it.
Thanks a lot for reading. And feel free to text me. :) I will be glad to talk to my readers.
I love you.
Xx
#freeyourbody
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