JEZELIA
I want to tear off my skin, cut it off with a scissor and burn it with all the hatred I have gathered within my soul. The genuine distaste I have for myself, it seems to become more present every day, more nagging.
Standing in front of the mirror of my bathroom, I frown. The rolls of fat on my stomach were ever so obvious, the fat under my arms, on my face, it was everywhere. It was like a virus that spread through my body, planning to kill every happy thought. And it was awfully successful.
Fat, fat, fat, fat, fat.
This was my daily routine. Some days I liked to avoid the mirror, some days I wanted to confront my soul with my pathetic state. Can't exactly say I'm proud of my behaviour, but she was a part of me now, she motivated me, and truly she was like a good friend. She reminded me why I was restricting, reminding me it was all worth it in the end.
"Lia!" My mother's voice echoed from downstairs, the distaste clear in her tone.
I pulled down my grey hoodie. Tilted my head in the mirror as I stared at myself a second longer, wondering when.. how it all went to shit?
Walking down the stairs, I pulled up my hood over my dark brown hair, which was a mess of wavy curls as I hadn't bothered to brush it.
"I can't bring you to school nor pick you up today," Mother staated hastily, as she grabbed her keys off the kitchen counter and dumped them in her bag, "so Julian will do that." Not bothering to look up as she continued to rummage through her handbag, probably searching for the glasses that were resting on top of her head.
"What? Julian?" My eyes widened. This was going to be a fun morning. "I'd rather my foot was cut off by cannibals and fed to myself than go with him." I deadpanned, as I stared at my mother-- who was already on her way to the front door.
"Julian is bringing you and picking you up and that is final!" She yelled before slamming the door shut, giving me no time to rebuke.
I groaned loudly and rolled my eyes, "What the fuck." I muttered under my breath as I roughly grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and dumped it in my bag before I slung it over my shoulder.
Julian Petterson. My next-door neighbour and a real pain in the ass. He's a cocky, arrogant prick, with an undeniably attractive face and body, which I reminded myself to shut the fuck up about. When I was younger, he would always tease me about my appearance, making remarks about my thighs or chubby cheeks.
Now we had both grown up, or rather, I had. He still shimmered in his high school barbie land.
I sometimes have this need to cut off his balls and stuff them down his throat.
But I would never do that. I really should though. I slam the door closed as I continue to think about ways to feed Julian his own hairy balls.
Skip breakfast: check.
Sometimes I think my family doesn't really care that I don't eat. I wouldn't be surprised. All that matters in this society are your looks. That's what we've been told since we were children. 'Put on some make up.', 'Wear this, boys like it.', 'You can't go outside wearing that.', 'Boys prefer skinny girls.'
My mom had it easy. She was a tall, blonde beauty with sea-green eyes. I was lucky to inherit her eyes, though unlucky I however did not inherit her perfect figure. She could eat whatever she wanted and not gain a single pound, while if I even sniffed a chocolate bar I'd gain 10 pounds.
