Size Zero✔

Chapter 1: Self-image

Chapter 1: Self-image

I weep for humanity. Then again the world I live in has no time for imperfection. No, I was never this insecure. For a long while I didn't care about how I looked.

I liked my skin and was happy in it. No one bullied me about how I looked. So you must be asking, "How did it come to this?"

Actually it was an offhand comment. Something that wasn't even meant to hurt me. It did though, didn't it? It damaged me more than shredding my body. It damaged my mind and no one liked a girl with a damaged mind.

Now the tape measure clings to my waist. Where the edge meets the number. It is not good enough. I'm not skinny yet. Skinny, the definition that is more perfect than any religion or creed.

I take off my shirt properly and poke my stomach. It has to be flatter. Why? Flatter is better. Skinnier is better it means I'll be liked. No one really liked me, they liked Daniel, loved him, one could even say.

What's more important than being liked, loved by someone? I could never be loved because I was fat. I sucked my stomach in, the tape measure shrinks. It shrinks-

Fat.

Fat.

FAT.

God, I hate that word. I don't ever want to hear it again. Maybe I should kill myself instead of gracing the world with this sort of imperfection. I am a coward therefore I will never do such a thing.

Someone knocks on my locked bedroom door. Telling me most likely to come down to heat. As hungry as I am I really don't want to eat. I can't eat.

Food is the number one cause I know for weight gain. I can't do this to myself or my body. I can't throw away my hard work like that.

So I lie. As usual to add to a coward I am a chronic lair.

"I'm not hungry!" I yell. I know the sound will reach mom.

The word hungry bounces around my room. I have to keep my mind off food. I switch on the tv. The bright, animated characters of 'Veggie Tales' come on the screen. The singing doesn't help for a moment with the hunger pangs. The sharp stabs of pain grow longer in mere moments.

No, this won't help one bit. I groan in frustration. Another knock at my door. This time it's the sharp, timely raps that I associate with my mother.

"Lea, you will open this door right now," she commands.

Who am I - but - a servant to obey her words. I slide my shirt back on. I know why she is here. It's another one of her many attempts to make me eat supper. The sound of a meal makes my mind water. I look at myself in the mirror and reel my thoughts back. I look fat. Horrible and fat.

Why couldn't I have inherited my brother's amazing genes. The genes that can eat a whole box of pizza and still remain beautiful. Maybe a glass of milk might not hurt.

My mother just grabs my wrist and drags me down. She is still dressed in her sharp work clothes. The only indication that she was not going to spend the night at home. Her heels make beats against the floor. Sharp and crisp, almost impersonal, against the wood floors.

The kitchen table in small but perfect for our family. Whenever this regime gets too hard I think of this table and the wonderful memories it holds.

The dark wood (covered in a sheet of plastic) looks shiny. The work is riddled with knife images carved onto its surface. Claire, carved another image of roses on it this morning and my fingers slide underneath the plastic to feel the ridges and bumps. The groves calm me.

I sit down and take an apple from the fruit bowl. Milk would be too fattening. The apple is green and sour but it means I'll eat less.

My mother frowns at this but doesn't comment on it. I know what she's thinking. When does her daughter ever deny a plate of mac and cheese.

I bit into the apple. A facade of sweetness fills my mouth before the sharp sour taste explodes on my togue. I can hear my blonde haired little sister talk about a bridge she's meant to be building at school.

I don't know why she's even bothering to build one. I still have my bridge from five years ago, which was Daniel's the year before it became mine. I'm sure the teachers won't remember how it looked like. But to Claire that's the equivalent to cheating and dishonestly gained marks.

Daniel, my older brother, says something about helping her. I can't catch much of it. Daniel talks with his hands. So he forgets to put down his knife and fork. Instead he makes large, wide gestures with them as he speaks. I sit next to him most days which means I have to avoid getting killed by sharp objects. I grab the utensils from him and place them on the table. He gives me a cheeky smile and continues with his story.

My mom laughs. Her warm rich voice filling my life with a small glimmer of happiness. I know she loves these moments just like I do. It makes us seem like every other family in Klipfontein. Normal and peaceful even with all the problems underneath the surface.

What did I do to deserve such an amazing family?

"Lea, are you going to finish the rest of that?" my brother asks. His plate is scraped clean.

I look down at my half eaten apple.

"You can have it," I say passing the first thing I ate today to him.

Immediately I'm sad I let it go. No. I have to stop myself. I have to control myself. Only then will I ever reach skinny.

Is it too much to ask for? I watch as Daniel wolfs down the apple in three bites . I guess after a full day of sport hunger does that.

Mom has a smile on her face. It must have been a good day at the surgery. Then again a surgeons job is never over. I know, it takes the entire family a week to clean out her office. I want to be like her some day. I want to wash the world away from all the dirtiness that taints it. I want to use my dirty and unworthy hands to clean every surface of this wonderful world.

Being a single mom is tough. For mom its harder than most. She works and still has to find time to be a mom.

From the freezer she takes out four Magnum minis. The glistening wrapper begs me to rip it open and take a bite. I have to control myself. I must if I hope to reach my goal.

"I'm not hungry mom. May I be excused?" I ask, getting up from the table.

She looks like she is about to say something. Daniel throws her a look and she keeps quiet. I promise mom after all this I won't do something similar any more.

I switched on the tv again. It was on the food channel. I growl in frustration. This is not fair. Why was the world doing this to me. I couldn't even go on the internet because all I see is food adverts. What happened to offers of free sex?

I lift up my shirt again and stare down at my stomach. I just want to be skinny.

A/N: The cover is done by the amazing WhiteCoconut23. I think it deserves a round of applause. This is a revamp of one of my older stories. I think I am a bit more capable about writing on an issue like body-image. If you are going through body-image problems, please go to someone. Someone you think can help. Starvation and beating yourself up about it is not the answer!