Status: completed -- 01/22/2013
Hello, Disorder
0.009
The itchy voices haunted her.
bitch fat whore go die you’re ugly fat fat fat you don’t deserve anything tommy did you see how he looked at you you’re ugly ugly ugly ugly ugly sister beautiful boy you’re ugly nobody loves you fat bitch go die
Her eyes flew open when she felt a hand fall on her shoulder.
The 35.9 BMI-ed nurse looked back at her, probably jealous of how skinny fat she is, how her bones protruded from her skin. Her hand was cold. Bee wanted to scream at her to get her cold frozen dead fat fingers off of her because her fat will seep into her body through her skin.
“Come on, sweetie,” the 35.9 BMI said. “Time to get weighed.”
Bee nodded absently, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her shoulder was still cold. The juice and mess on the floor had already been cleaned up, Bee saw when she swung her twig legs from the edge of the bed and onto the cold floor, where a wheelchair the size of Texas waited in the threshold of the room. 35.9 BMI gestured to it silently; they didn’t want the skeletons to plotz over from a heart attack as they walked the short distance. Bee sank into it, already tired from the effort, and the nurse wheeled her out toward the scale.
It just stood there, the numbers measured in kilograms. She didn’t know metric. She’d have to ask Ana how to convert kilograms to pounds and back again. The scale smiled its icky number-y grin, saying, “Fat girl, fat girl, nobody wants you, fat girl.”
Bee shuddered.
“Alright,” 35.9 BMI said. “Step on.”
She took a deep breath and stepped on the platform. She closed her eyes until it beeped. It was so loud that it almost broke her ear drums. Her head began to ache.
“Step off,” 35.9 BMI whispered, gently helping Bee off so she wouldn’t fall and break her fragile bones. Bee took a glance at the scale: 28 kg. Fuck. She needed to ask Ana the conversion fast. She sat back into the wheelchair, worried that she’d gained a horrific amount of weight, and was taken back to her coffin.
But the realization remained.
Ana is still skinnier.
bitch fat whore go die you’re ugly fat fat fat you don’t deserve anything tommy did you see how he looked at you you’re ugly ugly ugly ugly ugly sister beautiful boy you’re ugly nobody loves you fat bitch go die
Her eyes flew open when she felt a hand fall on her shoulder.
The 35.9 BMI-ed nurse looked back at her, probably jealous of how skinny fat she is, how her bones protruded from her skin. Her hand was cold. Bee wanted to scream at her to get her cold frozen dead fat fingers off of her because her fat will seep into her body through her skin.
“Come on, sweetie,” the 35.9 BMI said. “Time to get weighed.”
Bee nodded absently, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her shoulder was still cold. The juice and mess on the floor had already been cleaned up, Bee saw when she swung her twig legs from the edge of the bed and onto the cold floor, where a wheelchair the size of Texas waited in the threshold of the room. 35.9 BMI gestured to it silently; they didn’t want the skeletons to plotz over from a heart attack as they walked the short distance. Bee sank into it, already tired from the effort, and the nurse wheeled her out toward the scale.
It just stood there, the numbers measured in kilograms. She didn’t know metric. She’d have to ask Ana how to convert kilograms to pounds and back again. The scale smiled its icky number-y grin, saying, “Fat girl, fat girl, nobody wants you, fat girl.”
Bee shuddered.
“Alright,” 35.9 BMI said. “Step on.”
She took a deep breath and stepped on the platform. She closed her eyes until it beeped. It was so loud that it almost broke her ear drums. Her head began to ache.
“Step off,” 35.9 BMI whispered, gently helping Bee off so she wouldn’t fall and break her fragile bones. Bee took a glance at the scale: 28 kg. Fuck. She needed to ask Ana the conversion fast. She sat back into the wheelchair, worried that she’d gained a horrific amount of weight, and was taken back to her coffin.
But the realization remained.
Ana is still skinnier.
♠ ♠ ♠
