Running From My Skin

Little Budha

When she was 11, a boy in class called her a scarecrow. Which is ironic because she was not as thin as a scarecrow, and for a minute she wished the insult had been true. That she had been a thin scarecrow. When she was 14, she went home and poured about half a litter of bleach in water, and bathed in it. Literally soaking herself in the solution, hoping the bleach would cleanse off her dark color. It didn’t. She scrubbed her skin so hard it bled, hoping there was something a little less dark underneath, there wasn’t. When she was 17, in high school, she went on a hunger strike for about a week. The logic was, if she did not eat anything, her body would be forced to use the fat in her reserves for energy, then she would lose weight. Genius, right? Wrong. She fainted in…

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