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The smaller Sara Jayne felt in the world, the larger her body became. In food she found flavour and comfort and distraction. When she was frustrated, pretzels, chips and crackers provided crunch and snap and salt. When she was hurting, favourite tastes would numb the pain. When she was bored, there was always something she could do, eat!
When would she be big enough to be noticed? But no one saw her, they only saw the rolls of excess flesh. “If onlys” were the background music of her thoughts. If only I was not so fat then people would like me. If only I was prettier I might find a real boyfriend. If only I had lots of friends it would make my mother happy. The “if onlys” seemed impossible to attain, and thinking about them called forth sadness, and the sadness was swallowed with mouthfuls of more food.
"If only I was smaller, then I would be like everyone else and then I could fit in." The desperate cry of a lonely heart. Perhaps Sara Jayne was never intended to fit in, but to stand out, however she had no understanding of this truth. She only wanted to know what normal felt like. She would lie across her bed and wonder what it would be like to live in a thin body, how different her bones would feel against the mattress, or to walk without her thighs rubbing against each other until the skin was swollen and raw, to be able to run free without feeling the weight of her flesh dragging her toward the ground.
Sara Jayne's spirit was as heavy as her body. There had been nothing that could teach her how to fly.
Click over to Emily's to read more imperfect words from the broken and redeemed.