Prompt #75 Influence the Dark Side

Image Courtesy: Antonia Mora
Image Courtesy: Antonia Mora

You are lovely” they said “Perfectly normal, perfectly healthy

Why did my stomach roll? Why did my chin wobble? Where did the bulges come from?

I escaped into loose shirts.

A collage of super models, diets and exercises decorated my walls

The models frowned as I wolfed down a chocolate bar

One last time” I promised them every time amidst desperate tears

Shadows darkened the dungeons of my head, and I stole glances at the bowl.

It beckoned slyly, “It only takes two fingers

I didn’t feel my fingers ramming down my throat. I didn’t taste the bile.

But I was aware of the dark satisfaction of my emptied bowels

I was enslaved!

Cravings for cheese, butter and chocolates made way for the gratifying taboo.

Dry tears were shed every night with umpteen promises to stop.

All vapour. All flushed. With two fingers.

My breasts sagged and my love handles disappeared.

I dropped sizes.

Now they say, “What happened? You look ill. You look pale

The mirror laughed “A slimy green is their jealousy; can’t bear to see you slender”

It pointed out the various bulges and imperfections around my lower body.

Keep going

It was a waking nightmare. A dark, endless tunnel threatening to collapse on me.

Eyes shrouded with a black film, tongue burned like charcoal…

I didn’t know I was dying. I didn’t know I needed help.

All I knew was that I was fitting into the size two dress.

A blackout, a hospital gown and years of exorcising the demons… I breathe free!

Almost.


Written for mindlovemisery’s menagerie

When looking beautiful comes at a price.

Advertisement

SoCS: Average|Imperfection is Beauty

Picture Perfect

Ever felt like there is a constant pressure to be picture perfect at all times? Ever felt like staying in those comfortable pajamas and baggy tees even though you got guests coming over? Ever felt like throwing things at people when they say, “You going out wearing that?”

If yes, welcome aboard! If no, stop lying!

There is incoherent murmuring at the back of my mind every time I step out. I feel like I am being checked out and judged on whether I have dressed up or down, whether I have mixed and matched perfectly or whether I have done justice to what has been given to me! When I am walking on the road, I feel like I am walking on some runway. The roads are lined with hoardings advertising perfect models cajoling you into being the next diva, store windows attractively dressed with a range of products that you apparently need, and colorful fliers that promise to take that one stubborn inch off your waist!

Walk into any store, you’ll see a woman moaning about her imperfect neck, breasts, waist, hips, legs, hair. Walk into the next one to see a man fretting over the seemingly feminine smelling fragrances and cosmetic products. Look into the closet, at the clothes saved for the day we lose a size. There is a shelf of protein supplements gathering dust. Not to forget, the how-to books we religiously sought out and now have dog pee on them.

The thin girl thinks she has a flat chest, the plump girl thinks she has a big bum, the athlete thinks she has no shape! And how do they come to these conclusions? Oh, the kind fashionista, a Cosmo test, Jennifer Aniston’s proportions and the world in general. The men aren’t spared either. Lifestyle magazines are full of “Whether size matters?” and “How to last longer”. We just can’t win!

Am I saying that we should chuck the make up out of the window and cancel the zumba classes we so enthusiastically signed up for? No! I love showing off that new dress in those heels and I have no qualms over hiding that blemish with a BB cream (Or is it CC? DD?). While I am all for embracing my curves (or lack of them), I don’t want to hide behind them.

I am tired of standing out! I want to be average! I want to blend into the world and backgrounds and breathe easy. At times, not being above average is healthy and liberating. Being average on the outside gives me freedom to stand out from the inside – within my core!

I deserve to accept myself to be the way I am even if it is the undefined “average”. I don’t want to undergo a hundred changes to become someone else’s above average. I don’t want to be pointed at because I chose not to conform and just be in my skin – however freckled, dry and patchy it maybe! I want to laugh insanely and not fret over the imperfect photograph. Because I love myself the way I am – a rockstar and God’s gift to humanity!

Well… Almost 🙂


Written for SoCS Prompt. Feedback very much appreciated 🙂

Image Courtesy: http://ih1.redbubble.net/image.10777591.9878/fc,550×550,white.jpg

socs-badge

Prompt #71 ″Why me?”

She wailed when they took her baby away – the one she had spent the last eight weeks nursing. Her perfect, happy child had become a favourite in no time. His happy laughs and beaming golden face drew everyone to him and why not! A bundle of sunshine he was!

The gentle poke he gave the big man was enough to bring a smile. She looked on unhappily as the man picked up her baby and cradled him. He whispered, “What do you think, little guy? Ready for your new home? Your new mommy is waiting to welcome us!” She couldn’t say a word and scream that he had no right to handle her baby. She had laboured for hours to give birth to him as she had with his brothers. She had fought with their father to keep her children safe and sound. She had never wanted her children to be separated. She had never wanted this.

One by one, she saw her children being taken away from her. Every time she shed tears with cries falling on deaf ears. She had worried endlessly about keeping her baby in check once he grew up to be the strong, determined man that he was showing promises of. With a sinking feeling she realized that her concern was futile as she wouldn’t be around to see him grow. Every time they came, she was barely spared a glance. Her broken legs meant she was of no value – she could not love as the others would. She looked down at her useless legs and strained to straighten them out. Every time she missed and fell on her sides. Every time she painfully made her way back to her bed. Forlorn, she whispered to herself “Why me?

Tomorrow was different. No, they did not give her baby back. No, her legs did not straighten out. But she was helped to her feet and tucked into bed. She saw an old man with twinkling eyes at her side, gently stroking her head and comforting her. He looked at someone standing by the porch and said, “Her. I want her”. Her tail started wagging happily at those words and she yelped softly, “Why me?” The man smiled at her knowingly as he limped to the payment counter speaking the words that had never come her way before, “She’s perfect!


My first foray into fiction 🙂 This was in response for mindlovemisery‘s prompt, “Why me?”

Tried to present two sides of it. Feedback appreciated 🙂