EAT » [ziam]

one

[Perfection is a disease of a nation]

~**~

The cardboard pizza box is lifted open and the steam rises to the top, the scent of greasy pepperoni and tomato sauce filling everyone at the Malik table’s nostrils. Zayn’s mother Trisha passes out plates to everyone with them clanking against the table. “Thanks so much mum! I was starving!” exclaims a young Zayn while reaching for a slice.

She smiles warmly, “No problem sweetie. Dig in.”

Zayn scarves down his first piece in seconds whilst his father Yaser stares at him in disgust. Zayn was already reaching for another slice while his father judged him with the eye of a hawk.

“Slow down boy. Jeez, you’re gonna have to go buy a new pair of pants if you keep it up!” mocks his father with complete bafflement.

Zayn drops down his slice when he realizes what his father just said to him. He wipes his greasy hands with a napkin and looks down at his pudgy belly, his hands rubbing the ‘baby fat’ chunk woven under his skin. That was the first time Zayn realized he was a little overweight, and it was quite fucked up for a kid in year six to think that because most ten year olds worry about whether or not a new episode of SpongeBob is on, not how their body looks.

“Yaser, Zayn is not fat! For god’s sake, he’s only ten!” shouts Mrs. Malik with distress in her voice. She knew she always coddled her son and let him get away with eating an extra sugary sweet that he didn’t need, but she figured he’d just grow out his body as he got older.

“This is the exact shit I’m talking about, Trish!” counters Mr. Malik while rubbing his forehead, “You always sugarcoat anything that has to deal with Zayn! He needs to grow up with a stronger mentality and just grow a pair! You’re raising our kid to be a chubby fruitcake! He’s starting to look like Porky-Pig from Looney Tunes!”

Zayn wanted to cry because he felt like such a burden and that he was the reason behind his parent’s fighting; however, he wasn’t crying because this was the truth. He now noticed that he was getting fat and that he was eating way too many fattening things and that he would die of a heart attack at the age of twenty-five if he kept it up.

“Must you say this in front of the him? You’re making him upset!” cries out Trisha. She turns her attention to Zayn who was just looking down at his body and she couldn’t help but feel responsible for her child’s body. “Are you okay, honey?”

Zayn looks at her and gives the first fake smile he had ever given in his life, and more to come as he grew up with a new state of mind. “I’m fine. Not really hungry. I think I’m gonna go to bed. Good night.”

Trisha could do nothing but stand there helplessly while her child walked upstairs and Yaser just stood there with an unsatisfied glance. “It’s your fault that he’s a faggot-in-the-making,” he sneers at his wife.

Soon this would become a daily schedule for years to come and Trisha eventually gave up and basically let Yaser have his sadistic ways with their son by constantly teasing and belittling him.

~**~

Zayn starts his usual morning by staring at his reflection in the symmetrical bathroom mirror. His eyes are drawn to his stomach instantly, thinking he sees a new lump of fat developing on his right hip.

His breathing gets heavy, impulsive thoughts flooding his mind. His rib cage is exposed on his bare body, contracting back and forth as his anxiety kicks in. The boy was afraid to gain weight. He thought the insults and incessant teasing from his father would sky rocket. He didn’t think he was too fat, but he knew he could be thinner, better.