'Hmm. I don't think you should go out in that.'
Why not? I grimace and stare hard into the mirror. Yes. I knew it. I just thought, maybe, I might...
'You're kidding right? You're not really considering it? I'm just telling you what everyone else will be thinking. You know I'm right. Look at your legs. You know you're not a skirt person. And that one... Well it makes your calves look pretty big. Better to hear it now than have to suffer all the stares.'
I see them now: bulbous, elephantine stumps. Oh God! How could I even think about exposing myself! No. I couldn't. It would be too much. Search the cupboard; find something else to wear.
'Yes. I think it's for the best. You know I only want you to be happy. What about those? Black hides a multitude of sins after all! It's nice and baggy so no-one will see any hint of what's beneath. And it will be comfy too. There now! That's nicer isn't it. Not risky at all.'
Yes. I accept. But why do I still feel that longing? I see myself, see the girl swamped in fabric. A safety blanket. I wish, I pray... For something to change. I want to say, 'I'm beautiful.' But I can't, because all I can hear is...
'You're fat. Accept it.'
(Written after watching presentation on eating disorders.)
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