Fat

I stare at myself naked in the mirror.

After a year of starving myself, exercising till my muscles tore and hating my own reflection I have lost one hundred pounds. I went from almost four hundred pounds down to just under three hundred. I could almost use the bathroom scale again- instead of weighing myself on one of those doctor scales they use for large animals.

I stared at myself naked in the mirror.
And I hate what I see.
My skin sags down.

Skin folds over skin like an exploded can of biscuits- the sight of my body wrecked with deep stretch marks that resembled scars from a wild animal attack. My breasts that look so stunning in a bra are sagging down and away from each other like two old deflated balloons taped to wall.

I hold the knife in my hand.
Desperate to fix myself once and for all.

I plunge the blade deep into my skin as I hold the skin fold out in front of me, pulling across my stomach hard as I screamed. I tossed the wet skin into the sink with a sickening thud. My organs exposed- but I forced a smile. The skin was gone. I was almost free.

Biting down on a towel I pulled the two parts together, using a staple gun and plunging the metal deep into my flesh.

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

The blood covered my hands, the gun dropping with a sickening thud. I couldn't stop now. I had to continue. I bent down, holding the wound tight with my hand- feeling my organs attempt to fall out where the slit still was. I grabbed for the gun but it slipped again.

And again.

And again.

Finally, the handle in my hand I stood up, the pain and dizziness beginning to overtake me. Grunting I shoved my organs hard inside, gripping the two parts of flesh together as I fired again.

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

I smiled at my reflection. Beyond the blood I noticed the skin fold was gone. I was finally beautiful.

I was finally free.