"The Weight"

By Fabian Villegas

            "You would be so pretty if you just lost some weight," My aunt means well, I

understand that much. However, when she says this it boils my blood. She is assuming that I don't

get obtuse advice like that from every angle. For a second I hope that she chokes on her stupid

words but to my dismay she continues rambling about how my boyfriend will leave me because of

my weight, and how no one really likes "fat girls." I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from

telling her to follow her own ******* advice. It's not my fault I gained weight, my grandma passed

away. I would take care of her day in and day out. It was a tedious habit that I hated, but now I

regret my hate. I didn't know her, and to be honest when she was alive I didn't want to know her.

She was not a bad person, just not very loving. My routine for the last two years of her life was

school and work, after which I would go to her house and take care of her for several hours. We had

nothing to talk about so we ate. We ate to fill the void that stood between us and kept us apart. We

were one generation apart and our age gap became a precipice in character and ideology. I had

nothing, I had no one; I was alone. Our loneliness was the only thing we had in common, and yet

even together we were alone. My boyfriend had transferred to a University in another state, and our

long distance relationship left something to be desired. He lived the life that I wanted to live; he

was maturing and living on his own.  My parents provided everything, and even though I love them

to death, I feel myself wanting independence and freedom. Achieving this would be another matter;

several years ago I had a serious bout of depression that culminated in a pathetic suicide attempt.

Had I known that you were suppose to cut your wrists in a parallel fashion to your veins I would not

be sitting in my grandma's funeral today. I kept the dulling razor in my bathroom as a reminder of

that occasion. I'm stronger now, and I feel that I am a better person because of that experience.

  My escape from my aunt's diatribe leads me to the restroom. However I find no haven inside as

the full view mirrors scream out the ugly truth in my aunt's acrid advice. My shirt is too tight; I can

see bulges sticking on the sides, my bra digs into my torso. I need to lose weight. My compulsion

to eat has depressed me, and this leads me to eat. Understanding the cycle of food and loneliness

does nothing to help me bring it to a stop. I know I eat to fill the void of my love, to pass the

tedious time with my grandmother, and to mask my guilt at her death. Thinness was something

elusive to me; I surrounded myself with beautiful girls in high school that almost literally beat boys

off with sticks.  Not once did any of them find it necessary to approach me, and I was just thought

of as a friend. I hope all of those assholes die of gonorrhea, but I'm not bitter about it or anything.

The accusatory face of my reflection in the mirror is enough to make my skin crawl. I sit on the

toilet and cry.

My grandmother died shortly after having six heart attacks in a row. She was obese and disabled as

diabetes had destroyed her body. The look of horror on her face as she died was burned into my

memory. I had killed her through our incessant eating. Her lifestyle had brought her to the edge of

the precipice, but it was our mutual love of hamburgers and tortillas that pushed her over. One

thing I gained from this experience was that I would not follow in her footsteps. The horror of her

suffering would feed my conviction that I would lose the weight that held me back. Happiness could

be found after losing just a few pounds.

With eyes closed I slowly step on the scale, "180 pounds! My god..." I resist the urge to eat a tub of

ice cream and reluctantly put on pants and a heavy sweater. I walk a few blocks to my old high

school. I have bittersweet memories in those halls, but I push those thoughts out of my head as I

walk to the track and beginning running laps. It doesn't take long for my muscles to burn. Each step

seems to be hindering my ability to draw breath. I try not to think of the burning in my chest, I

focus on being skinny...being sexy. The running gives way to gentle trotting which in turn de-

evolves into annoyed walking. I feel my heart pounding in my ears, "after this one lap I can rest," I

tell myself. My mind races, "you didn't say after this taco I'll rest, or after this hamburger I'll rest,

did you! You fat *****!" my anger gives me a second wind and I take of running as fast as I can. I

begin to think about my grandmother, I would steal her anti-anxiety pills and her water pills and her

pain medication. Maybe she needed them, but at this point I find that it is too late to change what I

had done.  Exhaustion takes the better of me, I only ran four laps. My legs burn as I walk home, I

feel tired, sweaty but somewhat optimistic after my run.

Walking inside my restroom I feel the urge to break the giant mirror that lines the wall. My clothing

is moist with sweat and I peel it off reluctantly as I analyze my body in front of the mirror. Pink skin

flushed with blood from my run, I don't like what I see at all. I remember watching a TV show in

which a beautiful woman asks her plastic surgeon boyfriend what he would fix about her believing he

would compliment her. The plastic surgeon proceeds to line mark her entire body with a pen. I think

he would run out of ink with me.

My Grandmother worked as a nurse for a large portion of her life. One would not guess this fact

considering that she died morbidly obese, but she was well aware of the problems she would face by

not taking care of herself. It was her anger and her hatred that lead her down that path, she was

angry because she was alone yet she was alone because she was angry. Her failure as a nurse and

as a woman helped me to reconcile my own failure. Why is it so hard to be normal?

My need for solace led me to call him; we talk so seldom now that he thinks he's big **** in a

university. He answers:

"Hello?"

"Hey baby, what are you doing?"

"Oh nothing much love, I just came back from blowing my love confetti all over a willing coed's hood

ornaments."

My intuition tells me that there is a lot of truth to that stupid statement. I grip my towel so hard I

feel I might burst a vein. No one can piss me off like he can. I can tell he catches my distaste with

his attempt at humor because of his sudden change in cadence in response to my silence.

"What's wrong Ana?" He asks in a soothing tone.

"Well for one my grandma just died Ely, you're off in another ******* state doing god knows what,

and I'm stuck here alone and empty."

"I know love, I'm here studying, and that's all I am doing. I'm sorry you're grandmother died, but it

is not my fault I'm away, I wish I could be there with you now, but I working for something that will

benefit both of us in the future."

"I just really need you with me right now."

"I know my love, but everything will be fine, I swear. I have to go love,  I haveclass in the

morning."

 "I love you."

He doesn't hear those last words as he hangs up the phone hurriedly. I get somewhat annoyed at

this that, but I have to admit, the sound of his voice is soothing. I lie down to try and get some

sleep, I just know that if lose a few pounds everything will be ok, just a few pounds.

I look at the mirror and I'm thin. Not just thin, skinny. I turn to look at my profile and it is

everything I ever wanted and more.

The dull buzzing of my alarm wakes me. Although my dream had not been lucid, I am cynical

enough to be aware I will only be that thin in my dreams. I refuse to eat anything with sugar or

carbs. I must lose weight at any cost. Happiness could be found after losing just a few pounds. I call

Ely again and get his voicemail, he's probably in class.

After a few weeks I timidly step on the scale, 174... I want to cry tears of rage. So much sacrifice for

only six pounds? I sit on the toilet dejected. I have dreams in which I'm eating giant burritos

stuffed with beans and rice and meat, they are so vivid I wake up salivating.

His phone rings three times before he picks up, "love I'm kind of busy let me call you later," and

just as quickly hangs up. He has responsibilities, I'm aware, but it seems that he has less time for

me than before. All I wanted was to tell him about my dumb burrito eating dream, I'm sure he

would have found that funny. It is his absence that compounds my misery. He had become my best

friend, my only true friend. The situation I found myself in was entirely my fault, but I loved him so

much I couldn't help making him my everything.

Eating becomes a chore. When your diet is so limited, everything tastes bland; the joy of eating is

sucked right out. When I see people drink soda, I quiver, I miss it so much. For all of their

platitudes of support, my family continues with their dietary habits. They sit around the television

stuffing their faces with pizza and cookies and Gatorade, and anything else they can get their

grubby little hands on. It's enough to make a girl want to puke. I would have gone that road too,

but I like my trachea and teeth too much.

It's been two months; I should have lost at least 25 pounds. I peel of my sweaty clothing in front of

the mirror and stare at my pudgy reflection. Building my courage, I step on the scale, "168

pounds." This is not going nearly as fast as I would have hoped. Patience is not really a quality I

have, so my inability to succeed quickly undermines my conviction. I knew it was my fault though; I

had cheated on my diet. I never really understood addiction until I tried to quit sugar cold shoulder.

My mind would rationalize, "It's just one cup of soda, and it's just one small slice of cheesecake." In

search of some solace I call Ely again.

"Hello?" thankfully he answers, his voice soothes me.

"Hi baby, are you busy?"

"uh... kinda, I'm drinking with the guys babe"

"oh.... Do you think we can talk a little?"

"Can I call you back later?"

"You say that a lot Ely, but you never call me back."

"Babe why are you giving me ****? I'm under a lot of pressure here."

"It's just that I'm lonely Ely, can't you see that? Do I need to draw you a picture? I need you right

now?"

"I know baby, I just can't really empathize, let me call you in a little while you know that I love you."

"whatever."

I hang up the phone even more annoyed and dejected than before. The anger from that one

conversation causes me to stop eating almost entirely for a few weeks. I drink water and some

salad on occasion but other than that my caloric intake is next to nothing. I get faint spells and my

head seems like it is filled with dirty water but my conviction to be thin is stronger than my need to

eat. I can't take this any longer, I need to be loved, I need to hold him, and I need food! I pick up

my phone.

"Ely what the hell is wrong with you! It's been days since we have talked. Don't you love me

anymore?"

"Ok? What is your problem? You don't have to call me and give me this ****. I'm tired of your

stupid insecurities."

"You're tired? I'm tired of being alone! Of being ignored! I love you so much and you don't seem to

give a ****!"

"There's someone else..."

I don't even bother to listen anymore. I knew it all along. I knew it in the core of my bones as we

leaned on his car that night I last kissed him goodbye, that it would be the last time I would hold

him. I want to scream, I want to cry, yet I can't bring myself to do anything. I grab a marker and

walk to the restroom.

My reflection in the mirror looks back at me accusingly. My clothes fall to the floor and I reach for

the marker. I use the marker to draw lines on my body, my hands steady with a precision I was not

aware I owned. Smooth black lines circle the offending areas of my torso and my legs, my neck and

my arms. I knew what had to be done. I grab the dull razor and without hesitation press it hard

against the skin under my bellybutton and glide it through my flesh. The synapses in my brain fire

and I grunt in pain. I stop for a second but before thinking twice I regain my conviction and press

the razor onwards. Blood begins to squirt from the gash. It is not the blood I am looking for

though. More blood gushes forward, this must mean I am not cutting deep enough. Doubled over in

pain I gather my strength and slash the razor across my stomach. Crying in sheer terror and agony

I dare not stop the work I have begun. I can't see through the tears, I can't breathe through the

mucous. I stumble to the shower and turn it on. Cold water falls on my naked body and I see my

blood and the water mix as they circle the drain. I make sloppy slashes down each of my thighs.

Just a little water, the fat will come out soon. Just a little more water, and it will come out soon, and

everything will be better. I lay in the shower trembling in shock. The water keeps falling on my

bloody body. The fat will come out soon I can feel it, I already feel lighter. I just need to let out a

few pounds. Ely will want me back once I'm skinny. We can be together and happy again, it is just

going to take a few pounds. Happiness could be found after losing just a few pounds.

Keyword: loneliness guilt suicide

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Comments (7)

Posted by allmine 2008-07-01 08:45:37 .... Being Fat sucks. Losing weight sucks. I know, I have done it. I so sympathize with this girl, how she feels about food, herself, her relationship. And the thing about it is, even when she loses the weight, her self esteem will always suck. I loved thios story and I don't know if it is solely the fact that I understand the charactrer. There are paragraph issues here and I think if those were fixed, it would read easier for those who don't understand. I loved the ending. Because that is what girls are taught. Being skinny makes you happy. Just for the record, loving yourself makes you happy, not the number on the scale. Guys are more attracted to you than your weight. Trust me on this one....I have been both fat and thin. Now I love myself and I don't care what they think. I have more guys after me now. + Report this comment
Posted by ams 2008-07-01 09:38:40 .... that was a really good story. i thought that the main character was developed extremly well. i thought it was something that all girls could relate to. even if its not weight, most girls are insecure about themselves. i saw the clip of the guy drawing the lines on his girlfriend and thought the same thing, if he's drawing all these lines on his model looking girlfriend's face what would he draw on mine? + Report this comment
Posted by Behind_the_Mask 2008-07-01 11:37:44 ...Good story... It’s a bit depressing to tell you the truth but its what people go through, I know people who say they are fat and what not, every time they are around me I tell them not to say they are fat or they risk me hitting them, because they are beautiful for who they are. I know that’s basically what you said Michelle, but it’s the truth people will like you for who you are not what you look like and if that’s what they base anything on then I don’t think they are worthy of being associated with. I like the story but I know several people who think they are fat and it pisses me off that no matter what I do they remain depresses about their weight. Perhaps you can write from that point of view. But I don’t want to ruin your story with my comments. + Report this comment
Posted by fevilleg 2008-07-01 12:20:08 Growth hey guys, thank you very much for all the comments. I feel i have to clarify some things though, first off i'm a guy. But i am glad that you couldn't tell because my personality didn't come through the character. I did struggle a little with weight in high school but football helped to clear all of that. thank you very much for reviewing my story. + Report this comment
Posted by r.e.potter 2008-07-01 12:37:45 nice job I have never had to fight being fat.. nor im I a girl...but there was one time however not so long ago that I paraded around in my wifes,,,well nevermind..I was in a wierd place then. Back to your story. It is so hard for girls these days. They see it on t.v and in mags and on radio and even at school at what exactly qualifies as beauty. We as a nation/world has polluted the minds of even us guys as to what pretty is. But having said all that,,,fat is not a good look...but I reccomend a healthy diet and cardio work out. Class dismissed + Report this comment
Posted by lemon 2008-07-01 14:47:11 .... This was a great story. I went through the whole fat/thin thing too and let me tell you, women put a lot more stress on the perfect weight then MOST men do. for being a man, you captured the fat girl mentality very well. + Report this comment
Posted by Dirkin 2008-07-09 19:18:22 .... I think you are a very talented writer, to be able to write a story so convincingly from a female perspective with such issues. I say that becasue what girls are thinking always seems like such a mystery to me. I think your narration style is brilliant, I never found myself skim reading which I have a habit of doing with long stories. I completely felt for the character, and also I could imagine the boyfriends perspective too. That ending was disturbing + Report this comment

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