Outside the Lines (lashton)

(8) +0 -0

An hour passed in peaceful silence before a knock echoed through the silent bathroom.

"I'm almost done Ashton," I said, attitude lacing my voice.

The person behind the door coughed awkwardly. "Oh um, no, it's Calum. Just checking to see if everything's alright in there. It's been a while, so..."

My tone switched from one of annoyance to one of embarrassment. "Yeah, yeah I'm good. Just taking my time."

A muffled reply, which sounded like an 'okay' floated through the door.

I hated to act this way. Words loaded with attitude and bitter phrases thrown around to cover up how I feel. I didn't have much of an option though. Last night for example, I raised my voice at Ashton and yelled back. The only other option in that situation was for me to drink the Gatorade, and I couldn't do that.

I hate the person I've become.

And whether I like it or not, this is who I need to be now.

Before Calum had knocked, I was doing a body inspection. I don't know how often I make these inspections because I don't schedule them. The pattern seems to be when I feel lower than my usual low. Stripping down to nothing but a pair of boxers, I examine my body, focusing mostly on my thighs, stomach, and biceps.

My thighs aren't big enough to touch anymore, which I have mixed feelings over. I like it because it means I've lost weight, and that I've made noticeable improvement.

The part I hate about my thighs though, is the reactions I get from people. Instead of making a verbal note on how thin my thighs appear, they decide to tease me, telling me I have 'girl legs'.

The other part I don't enjoy is when the boys playfully joke around about the gap between my thighs. For example, if I drop my phone in my lap around them, I've already started to mentally prepare myself to be made a joke of. A persons first instinct is to shut their legs to prevent the phone from dropping. But this reflex doesn't work in my favor, considering the phone falls through the space in between my thighs. That's when the jokes start.

I know they're playing around and they mean no harm, but t their laughter cuts me down. All I want to do in moments like those is to hide away.

I didn't pay much attention to my arms in the past, but it's hard not to these days. There's virtually no muscle left, which makes me feel like even more of a fuck up than I already am. I've attempted to put more focus on toning my muscles when going to the gym. The added effort is barely worth my time though, because the muscle I have been able to gain is minimal.

My muscles are deteriorating. I know I should care, and I do. But I just can't stop. Nothing, not even the worst side effects seems to be strong enough to help me.

But I don't want to stop, so it really doesn't bother me too much.

I'm thankful that no one has picked up on my weight loss. The boys, a few people from stage crew, and select managers have made comments acknowledging my thinner body, but they take the conversation no further. This is probably due to me being a man. No one could even consider the possibility of a young adult man such as myself to be starving himself. Why would they anyways? Girls are the one's who end up starving themselves, not boys.

The other, more probable, reason my excessive weight loss has gone unnoticed is that it doesn't show enough to alarm anyone. My arms and legs, which use to be very much toned, have decreased in size. Everyone's assumes the reason for this is that I've stopped focusing on staying muscular. It helps that I'm always wearing jeans too.

I'd have to be shirtless in order for anyone to notice the weight I've lost.

I'd throw myself off a building if anyone ever saw my body exposed like that.