I'm Not Hungry

Twelve

After our little banter, Xoella storms out of the room only to come back ten minutes later and guide me to her car. When we arrive at my house, she decides to pull a Jax and raid my kitchen which is ultimately followed by her yelling at me and slamming the front door.

Not that I mind.

Suddenly, the sound of the annoying doorbell was resonating through the house. I storm to the door, expecting it to be Xoella, and throw it open. "What do you want?" I scream at the person, only to realize that it's not who I originally thought it to be.

"Was that for me, or will I have to pass on the message?" Jax asks, his jaw ticking. My own jaw drops as a realize that he's at my house! He has the nerve to show up here and act like he didn't, just two days ago, accuse me of having an eating disorder. I'm perfectly fine. Why can't anyone seem to accept that?

"Why are you here?" is all I can seem to get out. Without waiting for an answer, I shut the door in his face, lock it, and head off to bed.

-----

Okay. Let's get one thing straight. I am in no way attracted to women, but I can't help but stare at their

Collarbones,

And their

Thigh gaps,

And their

Flat stomachs,

And their

Small wrists,

And their

Small waists,

And their

Visible ribs,

And their

Hip bones,

And their

Cheekbones,

And their

Flawless skin,

And their

Full chests,

And their overall

Perfection

That I seem to so desperately lack. And while I understand that no one is truly perfect, because perfection is just a perception, I can't help but wonder why I'm not. Like Makaylah, whom I ran into on the first day of school, is strutting down the hall. So

Confident,

So

Radiant,

So

Perfect.

It hurts. She's flaunting her thigh gap, and her rib cage, and her cheekbones, and her hip bones and all the other bones that you should be able to see on my body, but, for some reason, can't. I guess the power of other people's bodies is finally getting to me.