I Measure My Self-Worth by the Numbers on the Scales

Gerard’s P.O.V:

“Look! It’s the fat kid!”

I sighed and hung my head. If only they realised how damaging that comment was. I was trying. I really was. Nothing wanted to work. No matter what I did, the weight wouldn’t shift. They’d roar with laughter if they saw me exercising in the privacy of my own room.

They were all staring at me as I lumbered along, keeping my head down. I knew it. They were pointing and sniggering at me. And it hurt a lot. I couldn’t help the way I looked. And I was trying my best. It’s not like I was comfortable with my body either.

Eyes were burning into my back. They were waiting for me to take my shirt off and put my gym shirt on. Then they could point and laugh. And then I’d shut myself up in the bathroom and snivel pathetically again.

They just didn’t understand, did they? Well, how could they? None of them had ever had a proper conversation with me. All they saw when they looked at me was some little plaything to mock and hurt.

I closed my eyes tight, keeping my back to them.

My hands closed around the hem of my shirt.

And I tugged it off.

The snide comments come almost as certain as the fact that I was a fat freak. Comments that sliced me open and buried into my skin, implanting themselves deep like some kind of parasite. Hot tears threatened to rain down my podgy cheeks. Some people just don’t realise how much damage one little comment about your weight can inflict.

I fumbled desperately with my gym shirt, ripping it down over my head as fast as I could. Of course, just my luck to get it inside out, right? But there was no way I was going through that again! They’d just have to like it or lump it. . .

Frank was sitting cross-legged on the floor when I started awake. He jumped slightly and looked down at the floor in attempt to hide the fact that he’d been watching me. An abandoned comic book rested in his lap. He’d obviously gotten side-tracked.

I tugged at the covers, pulling them up to cover my body. Sure, I was hiding beneath a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants but I still felt awkward with him watching me the way he was. He looked up again as I sat up and crossed my legs, folding my hands in my lap.

“How come you’re not asleep?” I questioned, glancing at the clock on the wall.

“I feel weird sleeping in a different bed.” He stated, looking up from his comic.

I cocked my head to one side curiously. Then again, it’s hardly abnormal. My little brother hated sleeping somewhere new when he was younger. He usually ended up creeping in with me for the night. Not that it bothered me but I was always frightened of squashing him.

Frank looked incredibly lost and alone, sitting awkwardly on the floor with a comic resting in his lap. I still can’t get over how skinny he is! The kind of size I’d kill to be. How can they want him to get bigger.

“How did you get so skinny?” My mouth blurted at its own accord.

He looked up, blushing lightly and shifting around.

“I’m not that skinny,” He insisted “I lost a little weight through exercise. And I kinda’ never really ate because I was always so busy with homework and. . . erm. . . stuff.”

“Did you stop eating on purpose?” I asked “The homework thing doesn’t work on me!”

“Erm. . . yeah.” He blushed.

“To lose weight?”

“Yeah. . . I never really felt comfortable with what I saw in the mirror. A few more pounds and I think it’d be great.”

“You look good the way you are.” I insisted.

He ducked his head down to hide the embarrassed smile and muttered out a shy ‘Thank you’. I smiled briefly, watching him a moment before settling back down in attempt to get some more sleep.