94
94, that’s my number, it’s who I am, what I am, I am 94 pounds. 5 foot 6, 6 feet 7, too big, they whisper. That girl is too big. I hear the voices, I hear the words, too big, too fat, she’s tall, she’s ugly. Shocked I turn, turn to confront, turn to attack. Too big, too fat, she’s tall, she’s ugly. They’re seeds; the words plant themselves, planted in my mind. The whispers spread, the words grow, grow fangs, thorns, sharp and thick, sinister things. I run. I run for home, run for warmth, safety, love. I run from my tears, but they follow, follow like a hungry dog. And then they spill. Hot and sticky they spill and course down my cheeks. My cheeks. Run to the mirror, they must be mistaken. A girl looks out. She is me, but she isn’t. Too big, too fat, she’s tall, she’s ugly. Too fat. She’s ugly. Doughy cheeks and a melted face. The scale, my number. 5 foot 6, 127. The words laugh and I cry. 5 foot 6, 127. My stomach burns. Just once, I think. To feel better, I say. I turn the lock and crouch beside the basin. White water, white basin, pale face. Do it, they hiss, those words in my mind. We’re right you know. Too big, too fat, she’s tall, she’s ugly, they chant and sing in chorus. My head down I do the dirty deed. Yes! They cry. Again! They shout. No I utter, unsure of the word. Have I just told the truth or a lie? Hours to days and days to weeks, time melding in unrecognized pieces. The words are hungry so I feed them my fear, too big, too fat, she’s tall, she’s ugly, growing and hissing and shrieking at me. So tall they stand, with those deadly thorns, a mix of doubt and terror. Again! They scream and call to me. Once more! They hiss and cry. Just once, I think, once more is all, as the words grow stronger with doubt. White water, white basin, pale face. White water, white basin, wet cheeks. More hours, more pain, more weeks of dread. 5 foot 6, 118. Not good enough! I hear them whisper. Not nearly good enough! Again, again, I do it again, my numbers shrinking, my fear growing larger. 5 foot 6, 6 feet 7, I shrink and crawl and die inside. 5 foot 6, 109. Smaller, smaller! I know I must be. Tinier, skinnier, thinner, beautiful I chant and try to see. But we’re still here, they reply. And such powerful words are we. Shrinking, shrinking, smaller, smaller, but still too much, still too big, too fat, she’s tall she’s ugly. 5 foot 6, 102. More! They shout. It’s still too much. White water, white basin, pale face. 94. I am 94 pounds. Better, they coo, and the tears drip down, those hollow cheeks of mine. Much better, they sigh, and I as well, not sure of the things I see. A skeleton slinks across the room, her bones robed only in skin. No… I think, and then I cry, for that skeletal thing is me. It’s not! The flowers in my mind scream. You aren’t! They screech at me. Pictures hung upon the wall, my face vibrant throughout them all. So happy, still smiling, no tears to be seen. Not fat, I whisper, not fat at all, but healthy and pretty and free. No! They scream. You aren’t at all! Too big, too fat, she’s tall she’s ugly, hissing and shrieking together. Crushed I turn and face the mirror, but dead eyes stare back at me. Dead eyes, flat cheeks, such small frail hands. You’re wrong, I reply, my voice taking shape. So wrong. Too big, too fat, she’s tall she’s ugly. Be quiet! I scream. Get away from me! You’re not needed anymore! Petals wilt and stalks grow thin as they spit and hiss and squeal. Smaller they stand though not destroyed, contained in their thorny skin. My stomach burns, so different this time, as hunger claws inside me. The skin gives way with a luscious crunch to show the hidden fruit. Juice drips down the fragile fingers but I drink it all the same, sweet and sticky and horribly good, the liquid dances across my skin. Apple churning in my mouth I grin and lick my lips. Not yet, I smile, not yet but soon. 5 foot 6, 6 feet 7, soon enough, soon enough I’ll be, 5 foot 6, 128. Tall, proud, skinny, and beautiful.

(c)