Fat •Jihope•

XV

{A/N: Guess I'll post another one }

Jimin

"May you please stand on the scale?"

The doctor asked me nicely pointing at the small scale that was pushed against the wall.
I hesitated.
I haven't weighed myself in a long time.
Scared of the results.

"Now Jimin don't be afraid. Having an eating disorder is hard when it comes to weighing yourself but we need to make sure you start gaining weight. First I need to know how much you weigh."

I flinched at the words.
Eating disorder.
I didn't think I had that.
I just didn't want to be fat.
I slowly took my shoes off and stood on the scale not daring to look down.

"Hm. . .56 kilograms."
{ 123 pounds }

She wrote it down on a piece of paper.
W-what?
56 kilograms?
I looked down at the scale.
That couldn't be right.
I couldn't weigh that much?

I quickly stepped off the scale and put on my shoes.
She lead me to a chair and I sat down.
She sat in a chair across from me.

"Before you start talking to me about your personal life why don't I introduce myself. So it wouldn't be like talking to a complete stranger."

She smiled crossing her legs.

"I'm Dr. {ITLTMAN}, but you can call me Jisu. I'm 36, I am not married but I have a little girl that is 6. I love art and music and watching movies with my child."

She chuckled.
She was a mother.
She seemed like a good one as well.

"Now tell me something about yourself."

I cleared my throat and sat up straight.

"I-I'm Park Jimin. I'm 21, I live in a house with my six best friends. And I love to sing. . ."

I couldn't really think of anything else to say.
She nodded slightly.

"And what about your parents?"

I froze slightly.
But decided to answer the question.

"R-right, my parents. . .my eomma unfortunately passed away while my father is in jail at the moment. . ."

I explained to her.
I didn't really like thinking about my parents.
Mostly him.

"This must be very uncomfortable to ask but how did your eomma pass?"

I swallowed thick saliva and shifted in my seat.

"My appa. . .killed her."

"Do you remember how?"

I didn't feel like answering the question.
I was pinching my own skin at the moment.
I took a deep breath.
Looking down at my feet.

"You don't have to answer that. But how old were you?"

"Ten."

She wrote stuff down on a piece of paper she had on a clip board.

"Very tragic, no one that young should experience that."

She looked at me with sympathy.
I twiddled with my thumbs and looked down at my lap.

"Did your father ever hurt you? Call you names?"

I took a deep breath and nodded.

"He would call me a p-pig. . .and yell at my mother saying that all she did was feed me and that I was getting f-fat."

I rubbed my arm.
Trying to suppress my tears.
She passed me a box of tissues.
I thanked her.

"Do you think that the words that your father said to you made you who you are now?"

I stayed quiet.
I didn't know what to say.
All I every wanted to be was perfect.

"I don't know."

Was my answer.
Because I really didn't know.

"I just want to be perfect."

She cocked an eyebrow.

"Perfect? But don't you think you're fine just the way you are?"

I rubbed my knee.
Bitting the inside of my cheek.

"No, if I become perfect. People will like me more. I won't have to have all this stress of people not liking me. . ."

She wrote something down.

"But people do like you Jimin, you have great friends I must assume. One of them out there waiting for you right now."

I clenched my fist.

"Everyone has to like me."

I have to be perfect, no matter what.

ღ