𝙾𝚌𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝙴𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

𝚃𝚎𝚗

𝚆𝚎𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 𝟸𝟸𝚗𝚍

My brain tries again to read the example provided in my maths book. I'm meant to see a pattern of numbers but I just see an assortment. There is no correlation nor sense to be made from Step 1 to Step 2. I need a couple more steps between. If these current steps were stones in Banksia River, I'd flop into the water trying to leap between them. I instead plop water onto the example, hot tears dripping from my eyes. I tab the example page and close the book, sliding it into my backpack. If I get in early tomorrow, I can talk to Mrs Millar before school.

It doesn't matter what I do, it isn't enough.

Mum got home especially late tonight. I was wondering where she was. I even had the thought that she'd been in a car accident on her way home from work, that a kangaroo jumped out in front of her car.

As the evening wore on, I tried to keep myself busy and do a few house chores for her. I was washing the bowls when Mum walked in.

"Not the bowls first, the cutlery!" she yelled.

I'd let the bowl I was cleaning sink to the bottom. I began to walk to my room.

"Now you're sulking off to your room," she announced after me then continued with her rant, "I never get any help around here. I have to do everything myself!"

Behind my closed door, I could still hear her muttering. Then she'd have the occasional outburst.

"I wish I'd never had a child!"

I can tick that box for the month. I'll hear it again next month.

The squeal of pipes sounded through the cottage. It was over; Mum was running herself a shower.

Lying on my bed, I pick up my phone to do my daily check of social media. At the top of my feed is a picture of Seraphina at the beach. She wears a chilli red bikini and appears kneeling upon a towel; school books in front of her, beach umbrella above her. She smiles. Her caption communicates a beach study session with her best friend, Jade. Even kneeling, Seraphina has a gap between her thighs. I click on her Instagram profile to see her collection of squares. Almost all of them feature the beach and her perfect body and her perfect life.

I think of my own body. Flat. Rectangular. Unnoteworthy.

Seraphina somehow has it all; boobs and a butt and a thigh gap – how? If Seraphina isn't pictured at the beach, she's pictured at a party. Arm around a friend, in a short dress. Sitting on the lap of a guy, his arm around her. She's good friends with all the surfer guys at school. Meanwhile, I don't know how to navigate a conversation with a dorky one.

Returning to my feed, is the most recent post from my favourite surf brand. Although, it isn't lost on me that the model posing with a surfboard is at a beach with no swell. What's also flat is her stomach. Her abdominal definition is the definition of what I want. She has lines either side of her torso that run from her ribs down to her bikini line. No lower belly fat in sight.

I save both pictures to 'Body Goals'.

Exiting the app with a flick of my thumb, I step out of my chair. Before my window, the black glass reflects me. I pull down my pyjama pants and push them to the side with my foot. Hoisting up my top, my feet together, I look towards the reflection of my legs.

A gap.

A sure, still small, gap.

I smile in silent euphoria; an achievement fulfilled.

Keep going.