Falling

This is a short story social commentary on self worth and image

Have you ever felt like you were falling? Falling in love, falling into your own thoughts, even literally falling off a cliff. You know that feeling when you’re falling, and it feels as if time has slown down, like you’re suspended in air, with nothing to do other than think? Welcome to my life. It’s felt as if I’ve been falling for years, since I was thirteen in fact. That’s when the thoughts came. They were quiet at first, just little remarks here and here. Like when I would try on a tight dress and notice my stomach more than usual. Or when a friend would make a small joke about my intelligence that would bounce around in my head until the words rang true. I was told these thoughts were normal from time to time, especially for girls my age.

 However, as time went on they got louder. Two years later and I’d convinced myself I was an unlikeable person. I figured everyone hated me, heck, I hated me. Suddenly everything I’d once enjoyed just didn't fill me with happiness the way they’d used to. Besides, I couldn’t seem to find the energy to do anything other than sit around, lay in bed, or sometimes listen to music anyways. Of course, with little else to occupy my mind, the thoughts continued. They targeted me in my darkest moments. It was as if I was walking into a cave, but could still see the exit, light, escape. Then the thoughts would come and push me deeper and deeper inside until I’d completely forgotten that there was any light at all. 

As these dreadful thoughts continued I began to go through mood cycles. I always felt either angry, sad, or numb. Even when I was doing things I like, in places and with people where I knew I should feel happy, but I just couldn't. This went on for another year before I went to see a doctor at age sixteen. I remember hearing the word “depression” thrown around. I knew what it meant, but I’d always just considered it as the term teachers liked to use in an effort to stop kids from bullying each other. I’d never considered it to be a word that described me. They also mentioned “suicide” though the thought had never crossed my mind. I’d thought, “If this life is so terrible, why would the next one be any better?”

After meeting with the doctor my mother became frightened that I might try to do something terrible. Tear a knife through my own flesh or jump off a building were a few of the main ones. Even though it would be so easy for me to do either of those things…I just couldn’t. I thought no one liked me and I loathed myself, but there was no motivation for me to do anything rash. I had a good home and family and I believed that there was no logical reason for me to feel this way. Besides, I didn’t want to become more of a burden for my family. So, I just kept going, it didn’t truly feel like living, it felt more like I was just trying to get through each day. And when my time came to die I supposed I’d just have to get through that too. 

My parents decided to put me in therapy in an attempt to “fix” me. I suppose it worked because now, at the age of eighteen, the thoughts have finally subsided somewhat. They are still there, no doubt about that, however it is now easier for me to ignore them. Easier to push them away. Easier for me to find space in my heart for myself. I can now look in the mirror without being immediately repulsed by my reflection. I can appreciate the strong figure it’s taken my years to build. I can admire the beautiful eyes I have inherited from my father. 

However, I have always been unsure of how things will change when I go to The Store. 

“Good morning class!” My teacher greets us one fine morning, “You have all officially turned eighteen and you all know what that means.” The class cheered in response and the teacher cheered with them. Everyone knows what this means. It means that we are going to The Store. Finally, after years of anticipation, of hearing stories about The Store from our parents and older friends, everyone seemed excited for this new experience. Everyone that is, except for me. The Store is a place, a giant warehouse that has been redone, where anyone over eighteen can come and fix themselves. Say you don’t like your eye color, well The Store carries over twenty shades and it’s a buy one get one free sale. Perhaps your wrist broke and it never quite went back to normal. The Store can fix that too, and hey while they're replacing the wrist they might just do the rest of the hand as well. I couldn’t shake the feeling that The Store could make all of my problems worse. Even though every adult has told me otherwise. Even my therapist once told me to “just push through” because soon I would be eighteen and “The Store fixes all of your problems.”
But that had never sounded right to me. After all, I’d hated myself when I was so skinny you could count my ribs, and I’d hated myself when I’d had to go into the plus size section of the store for a pair of pants. If my thoughts hadn't changed then, what would be different if I got The Store to change my appearance?

I tried to  push these ideas deep down as our class lined up in pairs so no one would be alone. After all, it was normal to want to go to The Store, natural even to want some adjustments done. Besides this kind of thing has been around for forever, over a hundred years ago wealthy women had something called plastic surgery done to them. The only difference is that now you can replace your whole face instead of just filling your cheeks and lips with goop until they look ready to pop. 

As we walked my best friend Kaylah was chattering away while I was internally panicking. Trying to figure out what I will do once we reach The Store, which happens to be only about a five minute walk from the school. 

“So what do you think you’re going to get?” Kaylah turned to me excitedly awaiting my answer.

“I’m not sure. I’ll probably just browse.”

I can tell by the flabbergasted look on Kaylah’s face that this was not the answer she’d been expecting. Even though she didn’t know how I felt about The Store, I know about everything she wants fixed. A new nose, longer hair, a slimmer waist, and the list went on. I am still in awe of how she can find so many things wrong with herself. Kaylah is definitely one of the most beautiful people I know. With her light brown skin, dark hair, and dark eyes, she could’ve been a model. I look over at her with a heavy sadness in my heart, knowing this is probably the last time I’ll recognize her as the person I'd become friends with back when we were only five. 

“Here we are!” The teacher stopped in front of The Store. On the outside it looked as if it could’ve been any regular store in a mall or other shopping center. Except for the fact that there were no windows in front displaying what The Store had to offer. Everyone in Shakera knows what The Store is, they’ve all come here, and they’ve all gone in wanting the same thing: To be fixed.

The teacher opens the doors and everyone rushes inside eagerly. I want to take my time, but Kaylah grabs my hand and pulls me along with her. I must say, once I am in The Store I am immediately in awe of the place. Looking around I almost do want to browse a little. I’m sure I could find something worth fixing for the right price. 

I immediately try to snap myself out of it but The Store is oh so tempting. The inside is set up how I would imagine a market is, with racks, booths, and a few doors in the back and to the sides which I assume lead to surgery rooms where The Store employees can fix you up just how you want. 

“Look at these!” Kaylah pulls me over to a rack not unlike the kind used in most stores to display shirts. However, this rack is strung with legs. At least thirty legs, all coming in different sizes and colors. Some are more athletic looking while others are slightly thicker, as is the trend nowadays. Most people who set and keep up with trends come to The Store often in order to switch out their legs, hips, or faces in order to stay popular. For a moment I stare in awe at the legs, thinking about how long it would take me to get lean, athletic looking legs naturally. As well as how easy and fast it would be to just swap out my own for a pair like one of these. After a few minutes something else caught Kaylah’s eye and she dragged me over to a board that looked like it would normally hold earring or vinyl pins. The dark brown wood board is currently holding a large selection of eyeballs. There are definitely at least fifty sitting on the board as we are facing it, but there are surely more on the backside. The eyeballs are arranged by size going from the smallest at the top to the biggest at the bottom. They are also organized by colors going through the rainbow. Starting with a terrifying shade of red on the left and a shade that looks almost black on the far right. 

“Wow,” Kaylah said in amazement, “They’re beautiful.” I watch as she reaches forward and grabs a set of blue eyes. They are set into plastic and connected to each other by a small board on the back so that neither gets lost or contaminated. Kaylah walks over to the floor length mirror standing next to the board with the eyes. She holds them up over her own for a moment, shifting so she can see. After a moment she turns to me. 

“So? What do you think?” The eyes are considerably larger than Kaylah’s naturally, “Do they suit me?” Kaylah struck a pose with the eyes and I suddenly realize the gravity of the situation. These are body parts, Kaylah is acting as if we are just out shopping for clothes as we often do. But I know this is completely different, she is trying to change what is natural and beautiful about herself to fit into what the society around her has told her is beautiful. 

“They are very nice,” I say, trying to keep my breath steady. “But I think your natural eyes are even more beautiful.”

Kaylah puts down the blue eyes and rolls her regular ones, “Whatever, go somewhere else if you’re going to be like that.”

I turn around and walk away, as I move away from Kaylah I look around The Store. Everywhere I look I see the kids from my class looking for ways to fix themselves. Either not grasping the fact that once they change themselves they can’t go back, or they simply don’t care. Everyone shops at The Store, everyone fixes themselves from time to time, it’s almost odd not to. But as I look around The Store I notice from the first time the true purpose of The Store. It is tempting us, our thoughts, the ones that tell us we are unworthy, unlikeable, ugly, and eggs us on. The Store tells us that if we just change our appearance the thoughts will go away. Of course we want that, nobody wants to live life with those thoughts. I know better than most people in my class about these thoughts and the main thing I’ve learned? It’s not your body you need to fix, it’s your thoughts.

 I know deep down that no matter how much Kaylah, or anyone else fixes themselves, the thoughts won’t go away. And they never will unless you do something to stop them. I hope deep down in my heart that Kaylah realizes this and doesn’t change herself. But I know she won’t listen to me, her choices are entirely her own and I cannot make them for her. As I am quickly heading for the exit of The Store I notice a pregnant mother examining her stomach in a nearby mirror rubbing it and frowning. I want to approach her, tell her how beautiful and perfect she is. But something stops me and instead I just walk out the door. 

---

The next morning as I am walking into school I see Kaylah. She doesn’t have to come very close before I notice. Gone are her beautiful dark brown eyes, in their place are the large blue ones she had been examining at The Store. The new eyes are surrounded by long, perfect, black eyelashes that are most definitely new as well.

“I see you bought them.” I try to keep the disappointment out of my voice once my best friend approaches me.

“Well, yeah.” Kaylah says nonchalantly. “My mom gave me $100 to spend at The Store, the eyes were $40 each and the lashes to go with them were $20.” Kaylah looks at me, waiting for my reaction, some kind of sign telling her they look good or something of that nature.

“Listen Kaylah, they are beautiful,” I start, because they truly are, but I feel the need to try and help her understand the gravity of her decision. “But don’t you realize what you’ve done? You changed yourself forever and now you can never go back.” Kaylah rolls her new eyes and shoots me an annoyed look. “Okay grandma,” she spat, “having kids will change me forever but I don't hear you preaching to me about that.” When she sees my dumb stricken face she adds, “Come on, It’s really not that big of a deal.”

I shook my head in amazement. How can she not see what she's done to herself? How can she possibly compare the beauty of having children to ripping herself apart and then rebuilding with whatever pieces are in style in a trendy, fake, puzzle.

“Besides, I’m going back there after school today. Don’t try to stop me.” As I can see she is determined, I simply ask what she is getting done this time, “Well the employee that did my eyes told me that girls who are 5 '5 are more likely to attract men so I’d figured I’d add on a couple of inches.”

I surveyed my best friend in her petite form, she barely reaches 5 '1 and she’s never had trouble getting boys to talk to her. The bell rings and Kaylah walks briskly away from me. As I look around me at the other students in my class I realize they are all different than they were yesterday. One girl now has an extreme hourglass figure, one boy is now covered in rippling muscles. After looking around and seeing all these changes I vow to myself to never step foot in The Store again. 

---

I am now eighty three years old and while my life has fallen into place, I've watched some of my friend’s lives fall apart since we took that first trip to The Store over sixty years ago. After undergoing dozens of changes Kalah finally understood the point I tried to make all those years ago. Unfortunately by then, she couldn’t even recognize herself. She soon fell into her own thoughts and fell hard. I understood what she was going through, but Kaylah was never as strong as I was. She fell so far she ended up at the bottom of our nearby lake when she was only thirty five years old. 

Falling, falling. 

Many others in our class fell too, turns out I was right. The thoughts never go away, no matter how much you change your appearance. Very few sought out the necessary help and many fell just as Kaylah did.

I fell too, but in a good way. I fell in love with a young boy who’d grown up too poor to go to The store and when told about it, shared my views. We got married when I was twenty-seven and now have four kids and ten grandchildren. Despite what Kaylah said when we were young, being a mother has been the greatest joy and the best change I could have undergone. My husband passed last year and I feel my body failing me as well. Carefully I walk over to the mirror on my bedroom wall and utter the words that I know are true, of me, of you and of everyone on this earth. 

You are worthy

You are loved

You are beautiful

And it is with this firm affirmation and knowledge in my heart that I fall one last time.

Author's Note

I don't care much for grammar mistakes, if you find any crazy ones you can let me know. I'm mostly looking for overall feedback, characters, story, writing style, etc.