I used to be called “Fatty Fran,” by my schoolmates. They used to point fingers and gawk at me as I held my head down in shame. When our class went on a field trip, I would have to sit alone not only because I had no friends, but because my entire body took up a three person seat. Students would pour their leftovers over my head as if I were the trashcan, because they said I would eat anything.
They were right. All of them were right. I was a fat, ugly, and disgusting human being. I would cry myself to sleep every night and wonder, why can’t I be like them? Why couldn't I be like the girl in the ad, the one wearing the red bikini, a happy smile on her face. She was happy because she was skinny. I was sad because I was fat. I was sick of being fat. I looked into the eyes of that ad girl, and I spit into her face. I was going to be like her. I was going to better than her.
I swallowed down donuts, cake, and everything you could eat to gain weight. I ate until my stomach was so full that I felt like I was going to explode. I ate until I collapsed into the bathtub in exhaustion. It didn't matter what I ate. I could eat anything I want. I will never be fat again.
I held the shimmering knife in my hand, waving it gracefully in front of my face. This was the solution to all of my problems. This knife would carve away all the fat and leave behind a beautiful, skinny, happy girl. I placed the tip of the butcher knife on my stomach. That was what needed to go. That was where all of my fat was contained.
I rammed the knife deep enough to show the handle only. And I dragged it across the other half of my stomach. My entrails rushed out along with heaps of blood. The ‘plop’ sound of my guts falling into the tub made me smile. It was working; I was happy again. All of that pain was gone.
After that, I moved onto my face. I’ve always hated the way my face was so round. It made me look fat. I puffed out my cheeks and sliced them off, the flesh and meat fell into the tub along with the remainder of my stomach.
I wasn't halfway done yet. No—there was so much more. So much more fat to remove. I had to look exactly like the ad girl. I had to be skinny.
I moved onto my legs, arms, and everything else that remained, keeping the ad girl in mind. Once I was finished removing every visible piece of fat, I managed to stand up in the tub. My feet stepping over mounds of blood, flesh, meat, and guts produced a sickening squishy sound.
I laughed as I almost tripped over the liquid mass of blood blanketing the tiled floor. Funny how something disgusting could produce something beautiful. The sight of myself in the mirror was shocking. I looked completely different; the results were positive. I looked like I was 100 pounds skinnier! I was skinny. Nothing else mattered. Not even the bones that showed through my flesh, or the visible exoskeleton that coated my face, or blood dripping from my eye—dangling from its socket, or torn apart mouth revealing my pearly whites, formed into a satisfied grin.
It’s good to be skinny. I could finally be happy now. I smiled like that girl in the ad and winked at my reflection. I twirled around with glee. I was so beautiful. The ring of the doorbell interrupted my joy. It must be the boys—lining up to have a chance to go out with me—the girl from the ad. Yes, that is me! The skinny, beautiful, and gorgeous girl.
I danced over to the door, ignoring the incessant ringing and the wailing of sirens. They must be anxious to get to me. –Blush- Am I really that pretty? I swing the door open with the same grin on my face, I can’t frown because my whole face would fall apart. It didn’t matter because I had nothing to frown about. It was the police. Even the police wanted to get a look at me. The woman police officer surprised—why was she here? Perhaps she wanted to find out my weight loss secret. She was a little on the hefty side. Us skinny girls don’t reveal our secrets to people like her. But the officer on the right; he was just dreamy.
He was yelling, and talking into his communication device. I couldn’t make out what he was saying because one ear was torn off, but I heard the words, “Skin, Ambulance, and Terrible.”
For a moment, I felt dizzy. I passed it off but before I could sit down I fainted into the officer’s arms. My weight loss technique had worked. They would never call me “Fatty Fran,” again.