After I woke up at 11:30 am,
(that was after I slept at four in the morning);
after I woke up at 11:30 am,
after I brushed my teeth,
I began to set up breakfast.
I took four slices of bread,
tried to make this thing I saw on Facebook,
where I fried two cheese filled sandwiches in butter.
I was still hungry.
I ate a pear, a banana, an apple, a bunch of a variety of biscuits, tried weird stuff with sauces and dips…
By then it was 1 pm.
I had lunch, with rice, and curry, and chapati, and vegetable, and salad, and curd. And that spicy mango pickle, which dripped with oil.
While washing my hands after that, I paused, turned off the tap, and stared at the mirror.
There was no one I hated more than that bitch who was looking back at me.
I silently swore at her, glared at her, wished she would die.
And then I noticed, she felt the same about me.
That criticism I wasn’t strong enough to take.
I sat in front of that mirror in front of my bed,
this agony blooming in my heart,
and I mentally yelled at the reflection I had painfully accepted,
yelled at her for backing out of going to the gym everyday,
yelled at her for eating all those biscuits, using up all that butter, eating all that junk…
yelled at her for being fat,
yelled at her for being a failure.
After eating another sandwich because I was too mad at myself,
because I just wanted to disappear, but couldn’t afford to,
I switched on the tap to get the water running,
so that I could bathe in peace.
In that bedroom,
there were three mirrors,
four, counting the bathroom mirror.
I din’t look at any of them,
or, rather, I tried.
I tried to not look at them.
But as I removed my clothes,
I broke and looked at myself,
and I felt that rage take over me.
I clenched my fists,
stared at the dump that was my body.
"That’s why they called you man-mountain,
that’s why they laughed at you.
That’s why you’ll never get a boyfriend,
that’s why you’ll be alone.
You’re too fat,
you’re too broken,
there is nothing you can do right.
You’re a failure,
I was lying in bed,
nobody could see the tears,
but I was crying.
Silently crying, and staring at the ceiling.
I din’t know how to end it,
all that eating, and that yelling,
I din’t know how to convince myself,
that failures can be something,
they can overcome,
they can succeed,
and hence no longer be failures.
That part within me which broke,
from all those times I heard people call me “Fatty”,
from all those times I hid because I looked too fat,
from all those times they laughed at me,
because of my arms,
That part began to hurt once more.
I sat up,
got on my feet,
walked to the cabinet,
and ate the first food item I found,
and the next,
and the next…
And I waited,
waited till the pain faded away.
Into the distance…
somewhere far from myself,
far from my mind,
far from that girl who keeps calling me a failure…
Once I couldn’t hear her anymore,
I went back to bed,
avoiding each and every mirror on the way…