What are all the different craft moves that this writer has made?
Did you spot my relative clause in the question above?
Did you spot my relative clause in the question above?
Short Scene:
The water drips from the faucet and makes it’s way down the drain. One drop, two drop, three. I watch them disappear along the journey, but I’m not really paying any attention. I like the sink in the upstairs bathroom. I can sit on the scale and wait for the water to cover up shame. I listen to the water drops. Count them until I forget about my weight and the reason I despise myself. 104. Three digits. But when I see them scrawled across the rolls of fat that cover my body, they become something else altogether.
In front of me sits an empty gum wrapper covered with words that I had scribbled in bold letters, as if to make them seem more real. Big, fat, thick skin, pathetic, thunder thighs, unwanted. And in the middle of it all, a stick figure girl with a big stomach and round legs. A self portrait. I remembering drawing it in my room, my hand with no control over my pen, hopeless. When I looked down to see the layers of fat covering my stomach, I knew that every word I had written was accurate.
104. Such a shameful weight. It wasn’t heavy, but it wasn’t anywhere near to thin either. And that’s all I wanted: thin. I wanted people to notice me when I walked down the hallways in school. I wanted to be the 5’8, size 0 runway model that I ever so admired, but would still fight to be as thin as a 5’3 girl can be. And, sure, the weight had started to shed off when I set myself on a strict no-more-than-500-calories-per-
It’s not a simple feeling that can describe what happens when you look in the mirror and realize that you’re fat. It kind of creeps up on you and doesn’t have much presence until you look down at the scale below your feet. I can still clearly remember the time I uncovered the ugly truth. I saw the layers of fat clinging onto my stomach. I saw the way the arm jiggles whenever I move. I saw the three digit number; 104. And I knew I had to change. I wanted to have the flat stomach and arms that don’t jiggle. I wanted to have Jennifer Lawrence's perfect figure. I wanted to be thin.
It’s easy to hide it. I’ve learnt that throughout the past few years. You act like you’ve eaten it, tuck it away in a napkin, and then toss in the trash when no one is looking. It’s so simple that I often find myself wondering why more people wouldn't do it. It didn’t seem like a problem. When was building self-esteem made a problem?
