Tucked in the corner of the restaurant booth with no one around to watch her it would be so easy; she could order a salad, dressing on the side and take tiny bites of crunchy bright leaves of iceberg lettuce or she could just ask for water, saying that she’d eaten a big lunch, she wasn’t hungry really… yes she’s sure, she could tell her friends, smiling at them, convincing them that she’s fine with nothing and they’d go on taking about movies and love interests and books, laughing and nodding with understanding. And the girl would sit there with her friends, pretending to enjoy herself and inside she was ecstatic to be getting away with eating nothing nearly all day, even if her stomach was swollen with emptiness, she was being a good girl. Deep down inside, past the destructive kryptonite thoughts of unattainable physical perfection she knew was losing again. She let that voice so persuasive tell her she’s a fat pig, no one will love her and as she laughed at the jokes at the table and as the food arrived, the smells making her salivate, she was fighting an inner battle . She knew she’d wither away, bone dust in the wind, if the kryptonite stone, mesmerizing and deadly, stayed tied around her neck, necklace of pain. She knew she had to try to rip it off, dangling down to her navel as she stared at the mirror and counted off the imperfections, 1…2…3. Sadness rose in her, anger. Why couldn’t she enjoy all that she used to? Why was she so stupid? She swore to herself the same promise she’d made a dozen times before and each time broken, she swore she’d fight for her freedom, for life. No one could step in and fight her battles for her. “Hey, you want some of my fries?” asked her friend, gesturing at the large platter in front of him. So soon her first challenge, the girls’ fingers twitched, the kryptonite necklace tightening around her neck and panic surged in her. It surprised her when she heard her own voice say yes, she’d like some fries. As she took a fry dipped in ketchup, the crispy goodness of it flooding her taste buds, she finally felt like she was part of the group, one step closer to normalcy. She knew this was just one of many battle and she prayed for strength, but tonight she’d fought. Tonight she’d said, no more.


2 thoughts on “K

  1. Good stuff Elizabeth – the narrator’s anxiety in the beginning of the piece was just perfect. Amazing that just the letter K would get you here; I would have never imagined.

    • Thanks Nate! Using the letters of the alphabet as a way to inspire my daily posts has really pushed me to get creative with what each letter can generate creatively; after milling over a letter for most of the day it’s surprising all the ideas one can get.

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