𝙾𝚌𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝙴𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢

As per my daily calorie count permits, I scrape peanut butter onto a few slices of bread. I then sit down at the dining room table and begin my dinner. Mum and I don't eat together anymore. It was rare beforehand; she would mostly eat dinner in the home office. I look out through the glass sliding doors, beyond the patio. A September Sunday and the cold weather still reigns supreme. Clouds coloured various hues of bluish-grey and they continue to drizzle onto the garden beds of sea lavender.

School has me anxious these days. I know I haven't studied as much as I needed to this weekend. But it doesn't seem to matter how many hours I dedicate to try and stay afloat, I'm still drowning under the workload.

"Look at you! You're a pig!" Mum exclaims. She's exited the home office.

Immediately, my slices of toast with peanut butter don't look appetising.

"You only need one slice! All you do all day is sit in your room! You eat excessively! And stop cutting into the peanut butter jar, scrape from the top —"

You're fat. Eating this much will never get you thin.

"— No quartering layers of peanut butter! You're a stupid girl. A horrible child. All I do for you and you think I'm made of money! That loaf of bread should last us until the end of the week!"

You don't need to eat this much!

I look down at my plate.

"LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!" Mum blares, "I've had a look at those silly girls you follow on YouTube and what they eat is a load of rubbish! Stupid diets, no balance. You're an idiot!"

Mum pours herself a glass of water then returns up the hallway to her office. I return my plate to the sink and sandwich my peanut-buttered slices. I carry the sandwich in the other direction, to my room.

You will dispose of it later.

Sitting at my desk, I pull up the screen of my laptop and enter Facebook. Maybe Mum's posted something about me recently. Some achievement or goal I'm tracking well on. But her name doesn't turn up the result I'm familiar with.

She's blocked me.