top of page

The Stallion

imageedit_6_7751397754.png
Scholastica's First Online Student News and Media Platform
Writer's pictureThe Stallion

Skin and bones


Starving, I look to the nearest reflective surface. I had previously obliterated everything which would compel me to look at myself. I had somehow missed this mug. My eyes look sunken in. Bags under my eyes from not sleeping the last few days. My hair a huge, frizzy, mess. A bunch of it comes off as I run my fingers to detangle them. This was supposed to happen. I’ve been expecting this for a while now. The doctors had warned me that this was something my unusual diet entailed. Yet, this had taken me by a surprise. I still cannot believe it. I keep running my hand through my hair. More and more falls off. At this point, paranoia consumes me. I fall to the floor, surrounded by the hair that I pulled off.


I never expected myself to be so superficial. I was always the cool girl. The one with the pretty laugh and a myriad of admirers I didn’t care about. Your brain is your biggest asset. Your skin, your size, your height, these aren’t supposed to be things you have control over. Well, except your size. I am fat and I would like to change that and I can, I think. But I am above that, I am an empowered woman of the 21st century. But I let lose tears. Actual tears. Water and salt. The entire schtick. I grasp on to what little hair I have left as I let out a long, distraught wail.


How did I get to this point? How did I become this pathetic? I don’t remember the last time I ate solid food. My body has adjusted to what has now become my diet. I don’t even miss eating. The thought of it makes me gag. I’ve come way too far to back down now. Just 10 pounds away, I’ll stop then. Funny enough, that’s what I had said 10 pounds ago.

I can finally fit into clothes I couldn’t fit into. No one has the audacity to tell me I’ve gained weight. Not anymore. I don’t have to worry about getting new stretch marks. I will look like what I’ve wanted all my life. We’ll see who’s laughing then. Who am I kidding. I am still so fat. I wish I could saw off some of the fat. I did try. I almost died because the razor I used was rusty and hit a vein. I’m not suicidal. I’m just trying to get into shape. I told the nurses that. And the doctors. They didn’t quite believe me and sent me off to the psych ward. Luckily, I still have my parents’ name and they can’t quite afford to affiliate their name to a mentally ill person; what would people say? Not that I am mentally ill. I am fine. I am just trying to get into shape. I anxiously bite on to my bottom lip, trying to convince myself of this fallacy. Darn it, I bit down too hard and now my lips are bleeding. Some blood gushes out. I haven’t really drank any water the past few days. Water weight is disgusting. I’ve come too far to back out now. I draw some deep breaths. I feel light headed. My vision has become blurry. My limbs shaking. I live all alone in my one bedroom apartment now. I left my parents’ house when they started saying that I was losing too much weight. That I was anorexic or something. What would they know? Me ? Anorexic? Pfft. I’m just getting into shape. They’ll know soon enough.

I stopped socialising. My so called friends kept organising these parties that obliged me to eat junk. I know what they are up to. They can’t handle my success. They don’t want me to be beautiful. Who needs them anyways. I’ve got me.


Sreyoshi Sehereen Sattar

Editor

Creative Writing

0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

অভিলাষ

চেয়েছিল সমুদ্র পারি দিতে , শুরু করলো দীঘি দিয়ে। চেয়েছিল আকাশ ছুঁবে, শুরু করলো মেঘ ছুঁয়ে। চেয়েছিল পর্বতারোহী হবে, গাছে উঠা শিখলো আগে।...

আমার চোখে বিশ্বকাপ ২০১৮

সময়ের পরিক্রমায় প্রতি চার বছর পর ঘুরে ঘুরে আসে বিশ্বকাপ ফুটবল। এমনি ভাবে ২০১৮ এর বিশ্বকাপ সারা বিশ্বকে মাতিয়ে দিয়ে শষ হয়ে গেল।...

Human

Comments


bottom of page