glimpses

I see her sometimes.

Brief glimpses caught in storefront windows and elevator doors and the glass displays in the grocery store.

Skinny. She looks so skinny.

It always hits me the same way. Like a bullet in the chest. I look so skinny. That's me. I'm looking at myself.

But then she's gone.

I never see her when I stand in front of my mirror examining my body from every angle. My legs aren't skinny. They are massive tree trunks. My stomach isn't flat. I shouldn't have eaten today. My arms are flabby. I should workout more. My face is round and fat like a baby's. I can't see enough of my cheekbones. 

The more weight I lose, the more I gravitate towards big baggy sweaters. Clothes way too big for me. I want them to make me look even smaller, but I also want them to hide me.

I look for her everywhere I go, but she taunts me until I hate her. Until I am so sick of her, I'm ready to stuff myself with food to taunt her back.

Then she shows me. There! In that reflection. There she is again. Skinny and beautiful.

If you just keep going. If you just lose a little more weight, that will always be you. You will always be her. Just a little more...