The Number Habit

T h i r t e e n

Considered an unlucky number in western culture, it has been thirteen days since the last time I weighed myself. A week since the last time I cut class, and I was about to measure myself the fourteenth time since then. Habitual measuring in the morning and evening - I had restrained myself to protect what was left of my ever-diminishing hope.

It turned out that I had water retention on the last time I measured myself and the kilo from then had finally disappeared with thanks from Epsom salt baths.

'Osmosis, the movement of water from an area of high water potential to low potential down a concentration gradient through a partially permeable membrane.'

Salt of the lower water potential drew out the bloating and left me feeling slightly better. On the other hand, during those unfortunate times where boys rushed into changing rooms in such a hurry that their foreheads glistened with perspiration before the class had even started; I was left to watch a cluster of hormonal teenagers bantering, showing off their muscles and sniggering at those they deemed physically unattractive. I was included in such a list for various reasons.

There were many skinny boys in the same sports elective as me, with spiny backs that were made prominent by their broad shoulders stretching the fabric of white tops over protruding shoulder blades and bare arms with mottled, pale skin and veins that snaked a vivid Prussian like archaic bodies of water on the maps that were plastered over the Classics department. Biceps lean and tapered into elbows that created a kite-like shape out of the protuberance; with slender wrists, shadowed dips between radius and ulna, a pair of jutting cartilage knots on the opposing sides of the wrist, visible metacarpals and rippling blood vessels a delta leading to phalanges with knuckles wider than the fleshy area; short but healthy nails, a dull pinkish hue with somewhat beige and lavender undertone.

I watched as taut skin pulled over muscles - fat in my case - tensed and relaxed methodically as a sense of habit stagnated the flurry of arm movements and brought the people in the room into a more productive state of folding clothes, putting bags against the wall and putting blazers on pegs.

All in the span of just under fifteen minutes, the overall spread of relief was infectious and for a moment scrutinising eyes seemed to relax.

Not for long though.