In the Glass
This is a breathtaking sight-
she unbuttons her designer blouse
revealing what is beneath the high-end garb.
Admiring herself in front of the mirror, she is transfixed by the sight
of protruding ribs, and a wasp waist.
She presses hard on her ribs
almost scared that they may give in and SNAP!
She shudders.
Her slight frame quivers in terror.
No, that is impossible, they aren’t matchsticks!
Her hands encircle her 23 inch waist.
‘Oh God!’ she gasps.
The sole disturbance in the silent midnight air.
Her hard work
in the form of 3 days-and still counting-of praying and fasting
during which she threw lunches down the rubbish chute
pinching her nose as she did so
had paid off.
Now she puts on perfume which is
a thousand times more fragrant than that fattening chicken rice.
Now she puts on moisturizer which softens skin like no other.
Now she wears a wig to cover her thinning wire-like hair.
Now she puts on her blouse to mask her lollipop-like figure.
A tear trickles down her left cheek.
(Thank God that her mascara is waterproof)
She was,
once the child who idolized dazzling dolls;
once the teenager who worshipped stick-thin models.
Now the one
who dreams of gobbling down a sumptuous meal of forbidden fruit.
This is a breathtaking sight-
she unbuttons her designer blouse
revealing what is beneath the high-end garb.
Admiring herself in front of the mirror, she is transfixed by the sight
of protruding ribs, and a wasp waist.
She presses hard on her ribs
almost scared that they may give in and SNAP!
She shudders.
Her slight frame quivers in terror.
No, that is impossible, they aren’t matchsticks!
Her hands encircle her 23 inch waist.
‘Oh God!’ she gasps.
The sole disturbance in the silent midnight air.
Her hard work
in the form of 3 days-and still counting-of praying and fasting
during which she threw lunches down the rubbish chute
pinching her nose as she did so
had paid off.
Now she puts on perfume which is
a thousand times more fragrant than that fattening chicken rice.
Now she puts on moisturizer which softens skin like no other.
Now she wears a wig to cover her thinning wire-like hair.
Now she puts on her blouse to mask her lollipop-like figure.
A tear trickles down her left cheek.
(Thank God that her mascara is waterproof)
She was,
once the child who idolized dazzling dolls;
once the teenager who worshipped stick-thin models.
Now the one
who dreams of gobbling down a sumptuous meal of forbidden fruit.