I can
see her standing there. In front of me. She's looking at me like I'm a
stranger. I think she's a stranger, but she looks so familiar. This person, she
has similarities to me. Freckles, brown hair, big b***s, a scar above her left
eyebrow. But she's so different from me. Her eyes are sunken in and defeated,
her body is so skinny, her hip bones are popping out, and her thighs are so
skinny. Who has skinny thighs? B***h. As I'm observing her, she's discerning me.
I know what she's thinking. It's what everyone thinks of me. She's fat. She's
fat. Fat. Fat. I look away from the stranger for a second to glance down at my
body. I grab the fat on my stomach and look up, daring that skinny b***h to judge
me. As I look up, her eyes pop up. She's also grabbing her stomach, but all she
has is a tiny bit of fat on her tiny stomach on her tiny waist on her tiny
body. I'm grabbing my fat on my already fat stomach on my already fat body. But
we are both grabbing our stomachs. And we both have freckles and we both have a
scar and we both are in my bathroom. We are both reaching the pill bottle and
holding the bottle. We have a look of terror in our eyes as we hold it. I can
see what my face looks like because her face is the same way I'm feeling. I can
see it all happening in front of me. In this mirror in my bathroom. It's a
mirror. And the stranger is me. I'm so sickly looking, so skinny. But not
skinny in a good way like I want. Skinny in a sick, revolting way. So sick I'm
clutching a bottle full of pills. So sick I didn't recognize myself.