Friday, 25 January 2013

I was feeling my pleasure diminishing day by day, and my feelings of ecstasy growing weak. (Claude Cahun)

“The question is: why do you want to date a high school student?”

The question was more or less rhetorical but he straightened his lanky posture with a feverish: “Are you kidding? You’re gorgeous.”

I feigned modesty. Maybe I would give him a discount.

“Since you’ve started to fill out your body is amazing.”

“Fill out?”

“Yeah, you used to be so skinny, you looked like a crack whore but now you’re getting shape and… why do you look so angry? This is a compliment.”

“Get out.”

“But what about our conversation?”

“Get the hell out of my apartment!”

He left sheepishly and maybe it was just my foolish arrogance, but I didn’t think he would tell anyone that I was in high school.

I went to my full-length mirror and discarded all my clothes. He was right. I guess I didn’t notice it before. Nicky hadn’t dared say anything. I had been able to count all my ribs and see all my veins all my life so I was never looking for them. I was never thinking about the measures that would indicate whether or not I was gaining weight. So there I was, standing naked in front of my mirror, cursing myself for getting fat when there’s a knock at the door.

It was rent day so I threw my clothes back on. They seemed tighter now.

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