Tape It – Short Story with Moral Lesson

Photo credit: lucasmalta from morguefile.com

Eggs, bacon, bagels, and croissants, her favourite meal of the day sat right
in front of her alluring her to have more, some more, a bigger portion,
probably just this one day. Her hand reached out for the last croissant;
“STOP” said her mind, “PLEASE” begged the nineteen year old heart. She
could feel the tires around her waist, weighing her down, emotionally and
physically. She pulled her arm back, eyeing the lush croissant, which would
have been hers, only if she had not decided to follow her dream, a dream
so far fetched, which seemed nearly impossible.

But there she was, she wanted it, and wanted it bad, a fantasy of a
teenager to fit into the beautiful peacock green bikini. A trip had been
planned, to the city of beaches, by her huge group of friends, and the trip
included her. She used to sit dejected listening to her slim friends discuss
about the kind of clothes they have purchased, and how short each of their
skirts were, and how beautiful they looked. She wanted to be among them
discussing her size, and see their expression change from surprise to
admiration; and so she decided.

Up and down, back and forth, her life jolted by vigorous gym sessions, her
scale; her worst nightmare smiled at her happily, as it moved away from the
bigger numbers, bit by bit, slow but steady. She was overjoyed, she felt it,
from within, as she stood in front of the mirror, analysing her reflection,
measuring her inches. Click opened her wardrobe, and proudly hung the
bikini, but it wasn’t time. She removed it admiringly, stroked the fabric, and
visualized herself on the shore of a beach, flaunting her curves, bikini clad.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the knock at her bedroom door. She
heard her mother scream out for her, it was time for supper, and back she
was with her bowl of assorted vegetables and her best entertainer, the
television. She zapped, ate, zapped, reaching for the last lettuce leaf in her
bowl, only realising her stomach craved for something extra. It frustrated
her that she could feast on her favourite fried chicken, mashed potatoes,
Oreo biscuits or additional helpings of Hazelnut Choco spread. She had
been through this a dozen times, but this time it was different, she wanted
to be someone else, someone popular, and someone that made heads
turn. She had to compromise, and so she did, with a little reluctance once
in a while, but a whole new chapter of determination. She wanted to be the
topic of harmless gossip among the ones in school; she wanted to be out
dating on Saturdays, partying on Sundays, shopping in skimpy outfits,
which she had dreaded to wear till now.

Weeks passed, her patience started to die away, she once in a while
treated herself with an ice cream, the fat was stubborn and refused to melt
fast, but the time did. No matter how less she ate, she still looked awfully
plump, which annoyed her and she was ready to call it quits. She sat on
her fluffy bed and wept an entire evening, ignoring her dinner. Her tears
dried up, leaving her cheeks cold, she lay down on her bed staring at the
ceiling, letting random thoughts pass by her mind.

She hadn’t realised but her bedroom was hot and stuffy, she leapt out of
her bed to open the windows. The wind blew into her round pale face. She
stared outside her window, and watched a mother treading along the
footpath along with her son. The boy would have easily been older than
twelve, the woman looked very familiar; maybe she was someone from her
apartment. She watched closely as the son held on to his mother’s saree
and plodded along with her. His head bent, in an awkward gait, made him
look a bit abnormal. She closely watched them enter the apartment; they
stopped to talk to another mother, who also had a teenage son but a much
normal looking one. Standing near the window on the ground floor and only
a few meters away from them, she could overhear their conversations,
though she had to strain her ears a little. The usual small talk, recipe
exchange, and the latest saree in fashion, bored her and as she stepped
away from the window, she heard one of the lady say something about a
special school.

She immediately turned towards them and observed the mother of the
abnormal, waiting for her to react, in a furious way, or probably a wretched
expression. On the contrary, her face blossomed and she began raving
about her son’s painting skills, and his ability to play the guitar even without
learning.

The middle aged woman added, “My child is special, and every child is
god’s gift. It doesn’t matter what’s on the outside, inner self is what
matters.”
Standing in her bedroom, through the window she gazed at the boy playing
with a Rubik’s cube, his tongue curving as per each turn of the cube and
his eyes fixed on the colourful object. She ran to her closet and saw the
beautiful looking bikini sitting inside. She took one last look at it and stuffed
it inside the top shelf. She looked at herself in the mirror and, her flesh
noticeably bulging out from her denim, and her belly sagging down. She
met her eyes’ reflection and said the words aloud, “I am a beautiful person.”

She smiled at herself and looked around her bedroom, her space where
she became what she was; where ideas, thoughts, desires and hopes were
given birth to, and where she found her true self.

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