I close the door behind me, so slowly every creak is magnified in the crisp cold air. As quick as a flash I run to the next road, if I faff around outside my house there is a chance I will be caught sneaking out. Even though losing weight is hardly a crime. I slow down and do a couple of stretches, my body doesn’t need stretching much though due to the 200 sit-ups and 100 squats I did only a few minutes ago in my bedroom. I jog up and down on the spot whilst I flick through my iPod; standing still isn’t going to burn anything. I play my favourite playlist, and a smile spreads across my face as I hear the opening bars of Caroline fugates “blood red bracelet.” I start to jog forwards, as I attach my iPod to my armband. The therapeutic rhythm of my trainers hitting the pavement calms me and focuses me as I round the corner onto the next road. I get into the flow, breathing in and out every 3rd time my left foot hits the floor, the song lyrics filling my head. The cold January air pushes against me as my fat body runs. I shiver slightly and huddle more into my oversized black hoodie.
After around 20 minutes I start to feel out of breath, I stand next to a bench; after all standing burns more calories than sitting. I take a couple of large mouthfuls of water from my bottle and apply lip butter to stop my lips getting any more chapped than they already are. I bend over and tie my laces up tighter before I start to run again, standing around is hardly going to burn as many calories as running does!
I smile as I rush through the cool air, my hair, even though tied in a ponytail, flies out behind me. I feel weightless, I feel free. It feels as if I’m flying through the air, this is why I love running; I love this light-as-a-feather feeling. Reluctantly I slow to a jog and glance at the clock on my iPod. I have around another hour before everyone at home wakes up. I start to run again when a sight in front of my almost makes me lose my balance. Rachel. I seriously cannot avoid this woman. There she is, her tiny body walking down her driveway. Even in pyjamas she is smaller than me. I bite my lip, if I turn around now it will be obvious as to whom I am and that I don’t want to be seen, there’s only one thing to do. I stare straight ahead and run as fast as I can past her house. I grimace slightly as I realise that she has probably just witnessed my huge body squeezed into leggings and an oversized hoody which fit’s too snug. I continue running at this speed around the streets, no longer enjoying it but forcing myself to. How else will I ever be as small as Rachel!
By the time I get home I am thoroughly exhausted, but it’s not enough for me. I sneak in and do 200 more sit-ups until I can hear my mum and siblings moving around the house. I can do this I think as I do the 150th sit up, girls who are naturally skinny are lucky, but girls who fight to be skinny are strong.
AN:
I’m sorry I haven’t uploaded in a while, I feel like I am always saying this! I haven’t felt like writing for a while now and I have been laden down with school work but I’m actually getting into this again so expect more regular uploads J
