Epiphany

Six stone four, six stone five, six stone six…six stone six pounds exactly… I had lost two pounds. A small smile crept onto my face and I kicked the scales under the bathtub, thinking about how the next time I took them out I would need to have lost two more pounds. That was if my mother stopped trying to force feed me a roast dinner, I would have to make some excuse for Sunday and just not be in the house.

                I left the bathroom and locked my door as I twisted to look at myself in the mirror on my wall and survey my body from head to toe. The smile returned as my hands fluttered over the hipbones that stuck out through my jumper and counted along my ribs. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Twelve perfectly pronounced ribs. I would be able to fit in that dress now, the dress that I had looked at in the shop window every day for the past two years. It had never moved. The assistant told me that it was because ‘it was vintage and a very specific size.’

I bought it yesterday.

                Now it was hanging on my wardrobe door, a myriad of tulle and crêpe and sequins all in the most perfect midnight purple. I was finally going to be able to wear it, maybe I would save it for my prom, or maybe even my wedding…it was perfect and I was perfect…well I could probably do with losing a little more weight but I was going to fit into the dress.

                When I handed over the hard saved cash to the woman in the shop she had looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

                “Are you sure you are going to fit in this?” she asked, a look of contempt and disbelief scattered across that perfect skinny face of hers.

                I didn’t give her the satisfaction of a reply, I had simply walked from the shop.

                But now, I was taking it from the hanger, slipping off my clothes, pulling the dress over my head, doing the side buttons up, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Ten buttons to seal me into my perfect dress. There it was on…

                The dress slipped from my small frame and onto the floor and I was left staring in the full length mirror. I was too skinny. I was too thin for the thin dress. 

Reviews

[Natasha]

What a wonderful execution of a conclusion!
I'm surprised at myself for thinking the dress would be too tight, after your great description of weight loss and ribs poking out.
I also am a fan of short and to the point.
My only suggestion is a point of personal preference. I want to stick an extra word in the last sentence, to give it some more stability or emotion (as an ending). For example, "I was too thin for this VINTAGE thin dress." or "I was too thin for this SPECIFIC SIZE, hung in the window."