A Hue of Blu

Three Summers Ago

“What are you looking at?”

Kyle and I were descending the escalator at Yorkdale mall when two brunettes stepped on the opposite side to head up.

I knew exactly what he was looking at – who he was looking at. He did it often enough.

It bothered me often enough.

Never once did I address it, though. Addressing it made it real and I would’ve preferred to live in blind ignorance, but a part of me felt the need to snap.

“Just the Topman display.” His reply was so casual; if I’d been oblivious I might’ve even believed him.

Little did he know how observant I was, how life forced me to pay attention to all the little things. When people believed you couldn’t see them, the parts of themselves they attempted to hide resurfaced.

My gaze lingered on the two brunettes, both in athleisure wear – tight leggings, cropped zip up hoodies and ballcaps. Of course their bodies were slim and toned, just like everything Kyle wanted.

Everything I wasn’t.

As soon as we reached the bottom of the escalator, I sped ahead until I reached the first bathroom. Kyle called after me but I was safe in the stall, safe to store my thoughts in my head and lock them away until need be.

I never wanted those thoughts to breathe, but they always came. They persisted. They wanted to be there.

Eat less.

Drink more.

Raw veggies. Water. Grapes.

No grease. No junk food. No food.

No food.

No food.

As soon as I heard one of the hand dryers go off, my fingers were down my throat, forcing out the bacon and egg hash I made this morning.

It was an awful, shitty feeling.

Not throwing up, that was the relief. But that desire to be small, to impress, to feel wanted and beautiful. A full time job, I’d say. It consumed me.

If I’d only been a twenty-six waist instead of a twenty-nine; if I’d only drank vodka-sodas instead of blue lagoons. So much sugar, so many useless, empty fucking calories.

When I finished in the bathroom, my body felt light, like a feather in a burning forest. All the anger and resentment I felt towards Kyle dissipated slowly when I saw his eyes.

“Baby, you look sick. Are you okay?”

He kissed my face, as if he didn’t think about macking two girls ten minutes ago.

“I look sick?” I questioned, smiling brightly. “I thought I looked great.”

He tapped my ass. “You always look great.”

I didn’t hear that last remark, or any remark other than the fact he suggested I was ill.

If you only knew what I did for you, Kyle.

If you only knew what it took.