Admit Defeat

║Hazel║

 ║Hazel║

"Thank you for this wonderful meal shared among family and may it fuel us to better ourselves and the world, Amen." My father spoke softly.

"Amen." We all mimicked.

My eyes fluttered open and I looked at the smiling faces of my parents. My mother, a beautiful Caucasian woman with honey colored hair. My father, a big tan skinned man with a booming voice. I ripped my vision from them and looked down at my food.

A pork chop, two scoops of mashed potatoes and a mound of peas started back at me. They seemed to yell and curse my name for what I would do after. I picked up my fork slowly and stabbed it into the peas. I slid a fork full into my mouth and looked back up to face my parents.

"Good?" My mother asked. I nodded. They really were good, soaked in butter and cooked to a crunch. I enjoyed them, while I could.

My father was already cutting into his pork chop and devouring it. I cut a sliver of mine and closed my eyes as I chewed it. It tasted so good and was cooked perfectly. Images of our bathroom scale flashed in my mind.

I looked down and looked away immediately. 144, or had it been 154? I couldn't dare to look back, but I guessed to myself, it had probably been more around 184. I stepped off and shoved the scale under the sink.

"Hazel?" My mother's voice made me snap my eyes open.

"Yes?" I cut myself another piece.

"How was school today?"

I thought for a split second about telling them how it really was that day, how it always was. I removed the thought faster than it had come.

"It was fine." The lie slipped out like a wet, moving fish. It had become so easy to lie and I knew the man upstairs wasn't happy with me. I guess if he wanted me to be good he'd help me with my weight.

The dining room was silent form then on, other than the sound of silver wear clanking and tedious chewing. I ate as slow and as little as possible. Finally, when all I had left was a few peas and half a pork chop, I slid my plate in front of me. It screeched on the table and I quickly apologized.

"Can I be excused?" I asked. My mother looked up from her supper and looked to my father.

"Sure."

"I'm going upstairs to have a bath." I said, getting up from the table. My hand brushed the top of my chair as I went upstairs. The lights were off and I walked down the hallway full of rage. I didn't want to do this. But, there was no other choice.

Becky. My head hummed her name. She was my best friend, doubling as the prettiest girl I'd ever seen. She was tiny and curvy all at the same time. I met my reflection in the bathroom and gave myself a disgusted look before closing and locking the bathroom door.

My caramel colored skin was shiny with sweat and my eyelashes were a tangle of mascara. Becky had naturally long ones and never had to wear any. My eyes became a smudged black hole as tears clouded my vision. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, the black going everywhere.

My lips were thick and Becky had always said she envied them. I wished I had her thin ones that always looked glossed. I blinked and a tear fell on the counter. It swam it's way over the sink and disappeared down the drain.

I turned around and began to run the bathtub. It made refreshing splat noises as it hit the tub. I put in the plug and watched it spring, bubbled and fill. I unbuttoned my jeans and pealed them off, trying not to notice my stretch marks. I tugged my shirt off and sighed at my lack of boobage. Becky could pass for sixteen if ID were in the form of breast development.

I crouched at the sink and pulled the scale from under it. Crossing my finger, I stepped onto it. I looked down and my vision clouded again. My head began to pain and I realized I hadn’t eaten all day. My brain fuzzed. I'd just had supper.

I shook it off and looked down at the scale again. The numbers blurred and jumbled before coming into focus. 120. I stepped off. Becky was barely 108. I looked to the tub, which was still filling up. You couldn't hear a thing.

I moved to the toilet. I crouched on my knees at it. My eyes searched for something, anything to tell me it would be okay. I looked into it, the white abyss.

120 flashed in my mind.

120.

120.

Becky was 108.

Hazel, you're fat.

My tears stung and so did my throat. I coaxed myself into it. It only hurts for a second. My fingers formed and took action. I closed my eyes.

Help me lord, tell me what to do.

It was too late. I coughed and sputtered. Mom's dinner wasted. I stood and looked into the mirror. The same Hazel looked back. I wasn't any smaller. Better luck next time.

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