Bastille Imagines

Weighing Down

125lbs.

You take an exasperated sigh as you step off the scales after seeing those shameful numbers below you. Not good enough. For months you've been trying to cut down on the fatty and sugary foods and stock up on the healthy stuff, you've been cutting down on sofa time and instead spending more time at the gym. For months you've been proving to yourself that you're strong enough for such a commitment, showing your friends and family that you can devote yourself to improve and most importantly, proving to those ignorant bastards at uni who have been teasing you of your weight for years now that you are of worth, despite what they say.

There's always been some reminder, whether subtle or blatant, about your body size that drowns out every ounce of self-esteem you've ever had. And there wasn't much to start with. It's the snarky little comments that irk you. Has your inner self squirming in self loathing with each deprecating observation that is made about your weight. Your biggest insecurity.

"Alright tubs?" Says your father, supposedly jokingly.

"You ate all of that?" Questions your mother, as she walks in on you finishing your large pizza.

"Do you know there's a new gym that's opened up down the road that would be helpful." Says your brother, munching on his sandwich.

"I could never allow myself to be that size." Giggles Kendal to her snivelling minions, your number one enemy, as you turn up for your class.

You've never been comfortable in your own skin, primarily due to your obsessive conduct instinctively comparing yourself to others, and it's always the same result; of course they're skinnier. You've sunk deep into the mindset where the instant you see food your body rejects it. It's gotten so out of control that you've reduced and limited your food intake to only one thing a day. It's torture, but if it does the job then well done; bonus for you.

Early rise and your two hours of exercise before daylight is under way. You physically push yourself to boundaries you didn't know existed, because yeah, you don't need sleep. You spend all morning staring at yourself at the unforgiving full-length mirror, pinching excess skin at your hips, arms and thighs that you don't need wishing you could just cut it all away. You've even tried once or twice but however leaves traces of a painful reminder that yes, you are still fat. You pose at different angles trying to see what angle you look skinnier at, imaging yourself through other people's eyes. But you come to the conclusion that there's no angle that benefits you in the slightest. Not with the excess fat clinging to your arms, nor with the lump of a stomach hugging your figure nor...anywhere. How are you supposed to find happiness in yourself if you're not happy with yourself? In fact never mind you, how is anyone supposed to find happiness in you?

Who even are you?

A rhythmic knock comes from your door and you quickly scurry to find clothes to cover up your horrible excuse of a body.

"Two minutes!" You exclaim, hiding the scales underneath the cupboard.

"It's Dan!" A muffled voice comes from behind the door. "Can I come in?"

You shout through granting him permission to welcome himself to your house. He patiently waits at the door for you to pop out from your habitat of self-loathing. You haven't seen Dan in months due to his first low key tour around the UK. You quickly became friends in your first year of uni because he too was struggling with the insecurity of weight, but unlike you, he managed to lose it and keep it that way. He's changed his appearance entirely and his looks have certainly matured. You are, of course, extremely proud of him, but you can't help the overloading jealousy you can't ever set free from.