I have grouped these stories as “minis” as you get a story in a very short time, but they are not as fully developed as the short stories I have posted.
Although I wrote on this topic in 2013 for (a now defunct) imagirl.ca, I think it’s body-positive message is just as important today. That’s why I am re-posting it here (with minor updates) for those of you who might be looking in the mirror thinking, “ugh!”
Show yourself some love and read the full article below!
People have this funny habit of asking me where I’m going. My answer’s always the same. “In circles” I tell them. Sometimes I wonder why they wanted to know in the first place. Maybe it’s the over-sized backpack I’m always carrying. Maybe it’s the dirty shoes. Maybe it’s because I’m always glancing over my shoulder mid-conversation, to see if anyone’s looking. Still, I think it’s because , to them, I look lost. Every time I catch my reflection in a rear-view mirror, even I’m surprised at how restless I look when I’m not, how anxious I only seem.
“Where the fuck are my pants?”
In the background of that thought echoes: why am I talking to the dog?
A buzz from outside. Coming, coming. I pull on my denim skirt instead.
“Am I a murderer Dougie? Noooo, mama’s no murderer is she?” Dougie just stares with his ugly lop-sided face. I guess Ethan would say I was. What does he know?
Joshua.
He likes me, but I don’t like him because his fingers are always cheesy.
So are his teeth.
He pulls up his socks too high and is always breaking bones. When he was in a body cast I used him as a coat hanger. Another time, I found my school picture in his geometry box. It was the one I had given to Mr. Hero at the beginning of the year. It even said so on the back, so I knew he was one of those stealers.
Baths haven’t been allowed for a long time ‘cause there isn’t enough water. But I’ve been saving my rations a whole year for a real good cause.
My sister, Sana.
It’s not that she’s dirtier than the rest of us or anything. We’re all yucky and smelly and hungry. It’s more ‘cause the stuff she’s had to deal with from Mama now she’s 13.
I didn’t drink any of the water Mama gave us to celebrate that birthday. Not with Sana using her share for tears in the next room while Mama scraped.
