It happens to us all, in our own unique ways. Maybe you walk past your bathroom mirror, or a car door, or even the windows of that grocery store near your house. You see your reflection, and for a moment, you are unhappy. You are unsatisfied with that image of yourself, even for a microsecond. Maybe you’re looking at models on the internet or on the magazine rack in that grocery store near your house and realize - hey, I don’t look like that; why can’t I look like that? Maybe you’re like me: it’s that moment that you wake up in the morning and empty your bladder, stepping on the scale out of curiosity, only to be embarrassed by the blinking red numbers in front of your toes. You step off, re-calibrate the scale, and step on again. No change. You go over to your computer to calculate your BMI (Body Mass Index) and find that you’re overweight, or obese according to some sites. You don’t know how you got this way. This is how you make a woman.
It starts out harmless. You go to the gym every morning, eating breakfast after you exercise. You begin to drink more water. You try to steer clear of those tempting fast food restaurants. After all, you want to be skinny and healthy. You take the stairs instead of the elevator to class, and you feel good about your choices. You lose a bit of the weight. However, your motivation doesn’t last long. You miss the sweet sticky soda in all of it’s disgusting, fattening glory. You don’t have time to make meals, so you start hitting up the vending machines in between classes. The weight starts coming back. You search the internet for tips. You switch to zero calorie soda, and just eating very small portions of food every now and then. The hunger will make you feel better. This is how you make a woman.
It shows that you’re not strong enough to carry on this game. Your weight plateaus, and you begin the slow climb back up to where you used to be. Your heart sinks in your chest, and you feel like you’d be willing to do anything just to reach your goals, just to feel beautiful and thin. You consider cutting the fat off of your own body, just slicing away at the tissue. The thought scares you, but it’s just a thought - no one can really do that, right? You search the internet to see if it’s possible, but there are no results. You drag out your high school anatomy notes, and search the internet for a local anesthetic. This is how you make a woman.
It appears in your inbox one day, saying your special package is to be delivered on time. You ordered a lot of procaine from a shady online distributor and acquired some needles from the vet’s office. You never knew how easy it was to get these things, but it wasn’t cheap. Cheaper than gastric bypass or liposuction, but still not cheap. You go outside and retrieve the package, then gather the rest of your tools.
Rubbing alcohol? Check.
Cotton balls? Check.
This is how you make a woman.
You lay down in your bathtub, with some towels over the sides. You squeeze your fat, and though many people in your life tell you your body is perfect, amazing, fine the way you are, you just can’t let go of the weight that is holding you down; the weight that allows gravity to hold you to this planet. You dampen the cotton ball in the cleaning alcohol, smearing it over your stomach, arms, hips, and thighs. A voice echoes through your head - maybe you should stop - but you don’t. You inject yourself in those “problem areas” over and over again with the novocaine. A voice echoes through your head - maybe you should stop - but you don’t. You pinch your stomach as hard as you can. No pain. You take the knife and slice open your inner thighs, thicker than you expected. You see little red specks that open up. You start to smell it, the blood, but you keep going. You dive deeper into your own flesh and the blood increases. The bubbly, bloody, fatty tissue reminds you of raw bacon, or the gummy sides of a marbled steak. A voice echoes through your head - you should stop - but you don’t. You take the scissors and cut into the fat. The river unleashes. This is how you make a woman.
The vibrant water colors fly out of your left leg, maybe an artery. The smell is so strong, bitter and metallic. It reminds you of when you fell off your bike. It makes you feel sick, and you know it’s bleeding too much. You frantically grab a towel and press it down. Underneath you is tissue and blood and that disgusting fat you wanted to rid your self of so badly. There is a knock on the door. This is how you make a woman.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” you yell, but your voice doesn’t carry as well as you thought it would. You choke on the words, and your head feels like it does when your best friend accelerates too fast in her car. You realize you forgot to buy something to close them up. A voice echoes through your head - you have to stop - but how? You consider opening the bathroom door, but can you even stand? Your cellphone is still in your bedroom. You’ve messed up, and you know this, but isn’t it reassuring that you’ll die with thinner thighs, maybe even a beautiful gap between them? You’d finish your arms and stomach if you could. The voice grows quiet in your head. This is how you break a woman.