My best friend.

by Bella Higgins 23 days ago in eating

A story of a girl and her best friend.

My best friend.

Stones. Pounds. Kilograms. Something I have not seen in a while. Not since m mother threw out our tired old scales thats purple shade had faded more than the hairs on my father's head. They had only been collecting dust on the top landing for years and were practically stained that mousy-brown colour that, quite frankly, looked like what I deposited down the toilet after a horrendous dinner made by my grandmother, who -in her prime- was an amazing cook, not it was as if an oven was product made by aliens and food was edible fresh out of the freezer!

I digress.

To put it simply, my weight is something unbeknown to me but I can guess it rather easily. It is heavier than the man who sits beside me on the bus on my journey to school each morning, but lighter than an elephant; baby elephant or adult elephant is up for question, however. I know this from my best friend. Best friends are those who tell you or show you the truth, they enable you to see the truth about yourself. They are the loyal ones.

As I stand before her, I see her shining in the sunlight, that sparkle she always has as she stares at my body. I am only in my underwear but who cares about that? She is my best friend after all, heck, she has seen me naked more times than I have fingers!

"You have put on weight," she says to me and I turn to the side, "your belly is plumper, the rolls are larger, so much bigger! In fact, you'll have to put your bra on a looser setting, it's digging in."

She was right, my breathing was much more restricted. So I did what she said and adjusted my bra- that feels better. I took hold of my stomach and sure enough it jiggled and the rolls moved like tidal waves.

"Jesus, your legs look like a tiger! How many stretch marks do you want?"

I glanced down, white lines steamed from the top of my thighs to the middle and even some went over my kneecaps. My eyes then trailed to my hips- there were some branding the skin there too. Deep caverns in my skin that disgusted me.

"You're such a heffalump! No one likes a fat girl but, then again, maybe you could be their marshmallow- sweet and squishy. Only, you'd be a jumbo one, not a dainty mini one."

Her words bore into me like a hot knife, they ripped at my heart and pricked the corners of my eyes leading to tears rolling down my globed cheeks. I can smell the rich aroma of dinner being cooked- it is shepherd's pie. Just the smell of it made my bellowing stomach drop. I can't eat that. Not even the salad she will plate up for me with it. I used to love shepherd's pie, its thick gravy, succulent mince and fluffy, cloud-like mash, topped with crisp cheddar cheese. Now, the thought of it is nauseating!

"Put some clothes on, hide your fatness." Me best friend tells me.

I grasp the first items of clothing I could find, a washed-out pair of jeans and a t-shirt with a faded band logo on it - Iron Maiden, I think it was.

I gawp at my best friend once I am finished dressing. Her words may have hurt me, but I would rather hear the truth (as horrid as it may be) than live under a false pretence. I take a deep breath, wiping away the fallen tears and biting away those who didn't get the chance to slip down my cheeks. My lips quivered but I stayed as collected as I could be as I took hold of the old bed sheet I had draped over the foot of my bed. I hung it on my best friend. I covered her so she could not see me, so I could not see her.

I then glanced down once more. My jeans hung off of me like a coat on a hanger and my t-shirt drowned me. I did not have a large stomach, my rolls ceased to exist, instead, my rib-cage protruded the skin. The skin where no stretchmarks formed stripes like those of a tiger.

My best friend had lied to me.

In fact, she was not my best friend despite how much she saw me. Actually, she was a full-length mirror. A mirror where I saw not only a broken girl in her underwear each day, but a fat, broken girl. That mirror was not my friend, my eyes were not my friends either, for they both deceived me. They both deceive me so much that I don't see the real me anymore, I see a warped version of myself that seems so real. So very real...

Bella Higgins
Bella Higgins
Read next: Never In the Cover of Night
Bella Higgins

Wotcha! My name is Bella and I love to read and write. I would love to pursue a career in writing, hopefully writing fantasy novels or novels based on historical events because history is another passion of mine.

See all posts by Bella Higgins