Skinny • Book 1 In The Reality Series

Katy

My mind racing I shuffled along the uneven sidewalk on my way home.

I knew everything Calum ordered was a lot for someone as skinny and narrowly built as he was, however never had it crossed my mind that he’d do something so desperate to stay that way.

Over and over again, the image of him, leaned over, puking his guts out in the parking lot playing in my mind.

I’d wanted to go out to him, comfort him in some way, but I didn’t know how. What was I supposed to say to that.

“Don’t make yourself throw up?”

Not only was that beyond lame, but I doubted he’d listen to me anyway. The lump of lard from school.

Turning into my driveway, I trudge up the yellowing, overgrown front lawn to the front door. Removing they key from under the mat I let myself in.

“I’m home.” I called out, tiredly, closing the door softly behind me.

“Katy!” Sam shrieked,

Running around the corner wearing nothing but a diaper, a chocolate ring circling his small mouth, he threw his arms around my legs.

“Hi.” I greeted, picking him up and kissing his cheek.

“Dinner?” he questioned, squirming in my grasp and looking down at the large bag in my hands.

“Yeah.” I sighed setting him down, “Come on.”

Grabbing his hand I led him into the living room where my Mom was watching Ferris Bueller’s Day off for about the thousandth time.

“Hi.” I mumbled.

“Did you bring dinner?” she questioned.

Sighing, I removed a large burger and disgustingly large box of fries from the bag then handed them to her.

“My turn!” Sam cried, clamoring up onto the couch.

Smiling at him sadly, I handed him a box of chicken nuggets and fries.

“Thank you!” he cried, taking a bite of a nugget.

Sighing, I then pulled a salad out of the bag for myself.

“What’s that?” my Mom questioned.

“Salad.” I answered.

“Why?” she laughed, “That’s not a meal, that little tiny thing where’s the rest of your dinner.”

“This is my dinner.” I said slowly.

“That’s stupid.” Mom scoffed, “There’s some pizza in the fridge go heat some up.”

“Pizza!” Sam shrieked.

“Heat him up a slice too.” She sighed, “And I’ll have a couple.”

Setting down my salad I rose to my feet and dragging my feet entered the repulsive kitchen.

Opening the refrigerator I removed one of the massive zip lock bags of pizza and piling the slices up on a plate shoved them in the microwave.

“Katy!” Mom shouted from the next room.

Sighing, I poked my head into the living room.

“Yeah?” I questioned.

“Get drinks too will you?”

Nodding, I  returned to the kitchen and removing three cups from the cupboard opened the refrigerator and peered inside.

Taking out the container of apple juice I poured myself and Sam a glass before pouring my Mom a large glass of Coke.

Removing the pizza from the microwave and balancing it on my arm, I carried it and the drinks back into the living room.

“Pizza!” Sam cheered.

Sighing, I gave him a slice and his drink which he downed at an alarming pace before crawling over to my Mom and chugging down her Coke.

I tried to just eat the salad but the pizza was beaconing, calling my name and before long I gave in having one slice, then two, then three, the crust Sam didn’t eat and his leftover fries.

Feeling disgusted with myself when I’d finished I’d quickly cleared away the mess before retiring to my room, lying that I had homework to finish.

Closing the door behind me I entered my bathroom and looked at my reflection in the dusty, fingerprint covered mirror.

My legs touched all the way down, my thighs pressing together, rubbing against each other painfully, leaving a rash. My knees were practically conjoined twins, as were my massive shins. My fat feet were disgusting, as were my pudgy hands and doughy arms. My neck led up to a sort of permanent double chin, my face was nearly a perfectly sphere of roundness and then there was my gut.

A great sagging thing of rolls and lines, stretch marks pulling at the pale skin, leaving ugly scar likes stripes.

Tears rolling down my cheeks I examined my face.

I suppose I could be pretty. I had nice eyes, a fine enough hair but I was too fat for either of those things to be seen.

At first glance I was the fat girl.

Katy Pratt the rolling ball of fat.

The ogre.

The loser.

The freak.

I wanted it so bad, so, so bad to be thin, but I couldn’t.

Whenever I was around food my stomach took over, my hands reaching forward and shoveling it in and disgusting amounts only regretting it when it was too late.

I told myself every morning it would be the start of a new me, of a fresh diet. But by noon each day I’d blown it, promising myself that this was me going out with a bang, that I’d truly start the next day but I never did and I hated it. I hated myself, but most of all I hated those lucky beautiful people who graced the cover of magazines, who were skinny.