My heart



Semi-sweet and a little nutty. Lover of zesty lime-green and dangerous shades of red. Adores cats and music, big on all things bright and beautiful. Still a work in progress.

Message to Readers

Dear all, do help me pick out all the grammar and nuance errors that I may make because I'm working to perfect it. Thanks a billion for your effort! You're the best!


November 12, 2015

PROMPT: Lens Change


GROUP: True Stories

Just like most girls, she was very, very concerned about her weight. After every Wednesday's swim class, she examined her dripping-wet anatomy bundled in the choking, form-fitting school leotard that bit into her skin. Every 5 min mirror session would end in the same conclusion: Gosh, what humongous buttocks I have!

Like most other high schools locally, girls wear a pencil skirt. Every morning, she looks into her cabinet and her skirt stares back at her in annoyance and fear. She grabs the neatly ironed, beige-coloured skirt and uses her thumb and index finger to pull down the 6 inch zipper. Afterwards, she bends down and steps into the deceivingly fitting hole for herself. She pulls it up and it goes easily pass her shapey calves. Then, it suffered some hinderance at her not-so-toned thighs. Today, it even went pass her waist without the usual complaint of conforming to impossible contours. Her mood lifted a little. 

Then, she sucked in a mouthful of air like a vacuum cleaner as her ribcage swung out and her belly tucked in. She felt the tiny teeth in the zipper chain holding hands one by one. 1 inch more to a miracle. She can totally do this! Her chocolate brown eyes were filled with excitement and hope. Then, she used the same ginger grip and buckled the skirt and looked into the reflective surface of her ebony colored Yamaha piano. Her skirt was still protesting an overload way pass its maximum capacity. It was so embarrassing to have a bulking mountain of cellulite as your gluteus maximus. She felt her face start burning and those hazels dulled. 

In school, they teased her for being fat, ugly and stupid. She has this constellation of moles on her face coupled with some meteors of angry pimples. Her face was round and large like a roti prata. When she smiled her cheeks were like those of a chipmunk, except she did not store any nuts in there. As if this was not enough to make her features worse, she tops it off with an ancient pair of purple grandmother spectacles. She consistently got Cs and Ds in school, failed gym class level 1 and had no friends. The girls in class often made fun of how one day her bums will explode and how its radius expanded at a rate of 5m/nanosecond and the boys complained of how she would morph into a Yo Mama meme. 

That was mean beyond measure. 

And thus, for the past 11 days, she has faithfully gone down to jog 2 miles every morning since the school holidays have arrived. She felt her sweat trickle down her skin and soak her T-shit like it was dipped into a salty ocean. She felt her fats wobbling with every tormented step she took. 1 mile into the journey and she felt like she was breathing through a straw. Most of all, she felt content defying all those haters. She will never ever be 5'6" and 128 pounds. She will shed that wicked 13 pounds and fit nicely into her skirt without any trouble. That day will come soon. 

As she writes this line, she eyes a resting turtle dove outside staring intently at her as if to say " 572 words are going to make your bottom fat again, darling." 

She ponders the dove's credibility and goes out to grab a cup of cleansing cranberry tea. 

Here's how a roti prata looks like in case you are wondering:  


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