Saturday, February 11, 2012
"How can I help you guys? Would you like to try any flavours?"
Her long red hair was piled on top of her head in a perfectly styled messy bun. Small slivers of hair fall around her angular face and follow the line of her jaw. Her cherry gloss lips smile out at us as she hands us little spoons full of gelato.
2 scoops is what I order. She gives me more like 5 scoops.
It's the cheapest ice cream I have ever paid for. It comes in a flower bowl and she hands it to me on a silver platter. Literally.
She takes her apron off to clean the tables. The tight shirt she's wearing clings to her ribs. As she turns around and bends down to wipe the table down, her spine sticks out. Her waist looks like it's about the same size as my thigh. My friend is wolfing down her ice cream. She's a psychologist. I eye my gelato up and down and follow suit. Each bite taking me one step away from the girl cleaning the table next to us.
Each spoonful that I put in my mouth speaks to me. You fat cow. You fat cow. You fat and ugly cow. Look at you, you pathetic mess. You can't even stay away from gelato. You don't deserve to be thin. Look at her, she's beautiful. She's the picture of perfection. Look at how beautiful she is with her bones. You don't deserve to be that beautiful. You fat cow. You fat cow. You fat cow.