The Purge

            This is (very)short story that I wrote not too long ago. I will let it speak for itself, and I hope that it makes you think.

           I squinted my eyes, looking again into the full length mirror hanging on my bedroom door. No- no, this couldn’t be right. I turned to the left, examining my body from the side now. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I huffed as I walked quickly into the bathroom across the hall. 

I very quietly pulled the scale out from under the sink. If my parents caught me weighing myself again, they’d kill me; or worse: send me back to therapy. I stepped on the scale, instantly looking down, eager to see the number displayed there. Exactly 107.

I swore under my breath; I had gained a pound and a half. 

Stepping off the scale, I stared at my reflection once more. Even in a baggy black t-shirt, I could see my stomach bulge out into a pouch, ballooning over the button of my jeans. I stripped them, and, twirling around so I could see my back, I pulled off my shirt, and then my bra. I could see the pound sitting angrily in my love handles. I raised my arms above my head, turning front ways again, so I could check my ribs. 

I closed my eyes, trying -as my “treatment” had taught me to- to think rationally of what a five-foot-six-inch girl weighing 107 pounds would look like. I took one, slow, deep breath, and opened my eyes. 

The girl I faced in the mirror was nothing like the one in my head; she was huge; monstrous. Puddles of cellulite covered her thighs and butt, while rolls of fat lay in mounds on her stomach. 

This is not how I wanted to see myself- not ever again. For a minute, I really did try to talk myself out of it; to convince myself it wouldn’t change anything. But I knew better.  

A voice from outside the door interrupted my thoughts. 

“You okay in there, hun,” my mother asked soothingly. 

“Yeah,” I said, reaching to turn on the water. “Just taking a quick shower.”

“Okay, dinner when you get out,” she called, walking away. 

“Right,” I whispered to my self, taking one last look in the now steamy mirror.

I knelt by the toilet, and stretched one long finger into the back of my throat until I my stomach turned. 

With a sigh of relief, I stepped under the hot water, and looked down at myself. After purging, I could see myself more clearly. I ran my fingers over my popping hip bones, smiling. 

Much better, I thought.