Skinny Inside?

Wolf whistles followed Christine as she hurried down the road, and she bit down hard on her lip, trying to ignore them. They were not sincere. The boys always seemed to be standing outside the house whenever Christine left her own home, and they took great delight in tormenting her.

"Hey darlin' are you free tonight?" One of them shouted, and they all fell about laughing. Christine wanted to cry, but she didn't. She kept her head up, and just walked faster until she rounded the corner.

Why did people have to be so horrible? Christine felt horribly unattractive. She had tried to lose weight, but it didn't seem to come off. And why? Because every time something upset her, she gave up on her diet, and crammed herself full of junk food. Her housemate told her she was pretty, but Christine wouldn't listen. She believed that Anthea was lying, trying to make her feel better about herself.

You don't have to be thin to be beautiful. That's what she had been told. But everything else said differently. The actresses on television, the commercials that made out how terrible it was to be overweight, the girls at college who looked down their noses at Christine when she entered a room. And the boys who waited for her to leave her house, and then started jeering and yelling. She knew that one of them lived there, but didn't the rest have anything better to do than make someone feel so bad about themselves that they wanted to die? Because Christine was so depressed, she was beginning to think that life really wasn't worth it anymore.

She entered the supermarket through the automatic doors, and picked up a basket, glancing at the list in her hand. Anthea was working after her classes, so Christine had offered to get the shopping, and now she wished she hadn't. She wished she hadn't even left the house. She wandered up and down the aisles, picking up the things she needed, and not paying attention to anyone else around her. Twice, she bumped into people, both of who gave her dirty looks. One of these, a middle-aged man, muttered "fat cow" under his breath, just loud enough for Christine to catch what he said.

Tears sprung up in her eyes once again, and she soon finished the shopping, plonking the heavy basket down on the conveyor belt and unpacking it. She realised how much extra she had picked up without even knowing it. Biscuits, crisps, chocolate mousse. Things which Christine would eat in a matter of moments to try and cheer herself up. It would only work whilst she ate them, though, and she knew it. Afterwards, she would revert back into her depressed state again, hating herself for being so weak.

Christine was not weak. But the voice inside her head telling her she was grew stronger each day.

When she got home, she put all the shopping away, then sat down in the armchair, surrounded by snack treats. One by one, she ate everything she had bought. Then she sat and cried, over and over, before she felt a bit better again. But not completely better. With a sigh, Christine walked upstairs, and into the bathroom, where she threw up, not once, not twice, but seven times. Then she sat on the floor, exhausted, and unsure of what to think and feel. She glanced out of the window. The boys had gone. Gone to find someone else to torment, maybe?

She felt certain that an overweight person had no place in society. It was not her own unique thought, but it was the thought that everyone else had been planting in her mind. How could she ignore it?