Skinny

Prologue.


"Have I always been this fat?" I say aloud, though quietly, so only I hear my words.

Staring at my body in the mirror, I am displeased with what I see. My brow furrows and my nose scrunches up. I can't understand it. I eat well, I exercise often—maybe even too much—and my family has no history of diabetes or hypothyroidism. I shouldn't be this way.

I run my hands over my stomach, and my palm feels a flat expanse of soft skin, hiding muscle, but in the mirror I see nothing but pudge. Love handles are peeking over the sides of my shorts, and I cover them with both hands, giving a disgusted squeeze. I feel nothing, but I see them so clearly.

My face is round, my arms are flabby, my legs are thick.

I look away from my reflection and instead to my physical body. At first I see nothing wrong; I see the body that I've had all my life. And then before my eyes things change.

And I realize.

I'm fat.


-And so it begins-