Wasn’t I Always A Ten?

I am not perfect. I admit. However, I wouldn’t really consider myself as fat either.

‘Thief!’ A woman shouted.

She shouted again, ‘ Thief!’

Suddenly, she turned to me. As she grasped my arm tightly and squeezed, she cried, “ Help me! I-I beg of you.” Her voiced was raspy and cracked from screaming. I could see the pain in her eyes. My poor conscience couldn’t help but kick in. Was this my chance to become a hero, a savior? I chased him- the thief. I ran. I ran as the wind slapped against my round cheeks. I ran as fast as my short, chubby legs could. Alas, I fell. This couldn’t be more embarrassing. My blood came rushing boiling-hot into the top of my head. My neurons were working hard and exploded like fireworks, dashing quicker than lightning. I was so flustered and humiliated- I felt as if thousands of judging eyes were glaring at me and my big stretch-marks. I wanted to crawl in a hole and to never step out of it! I wanted to die!

But in the end, even god wouldn’t let me do that, would he?

Or would he rather leave me alone and watch me as I get crushed with shame by humiliation and disgrace.

I woke up to a bright blinding light, staring at a blurry ceiling. A deep yet masculine and seductive voice said,

“Are you okay ?”

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