She steps on the scale.

Just for extra precautions.

In case of extra measures.

When she wakes up,

When she sleeps.

In her dreams, there’s a woman or two.

Slender, with fat dripping down, her skin flapping, she’s a bird flying to the sun.

There’s a woman,

She is ever so large, plummeting down to her.

She wakes up, and doesn’t take a deep breath, she walks over to her scale.

It’s morning.

Skip breakfast, you definitely don’t need it.

It’s time, like the other times.

So she kneels and leans into the toilet, her knuckles turning white as she grips the toilet seat.

She puts a finger in her mouth, failing to her throat, she gags.

Pouring all her life into the flushing water.

Disgusting.