Revenge Is Icecream

June, 2023

I pinch my stomach between my thumb and index finger. Feeling it slowly dissolving into silly putty. I allow a slight chuckle to slide out, I slink into my jumper. The washed out grey uniform swallows my entire personality, like how it swallows my chest into its stretchy wool. It used to be two sizes too big for me. Not anymore. C’est la vie.
My phone lets me know that everyone else’s lives have begun; for the day must be announced by sending me little pings of dopamine every time a ‘friend’ does something online. I slather too much foundation on my face. It slicks on to feel sticky all day, tans anything white- but it covers my freckles, so I don’t mind too much. I put on just enough eyeliner that my teachers will pretend not to notice. My makeup for the day gets sent out online. 40 likes. Not too bad. I tap my nose twice with my left hand, smudging my makeup slightly. They say that the greatest potters deliberately make a mistake when they make a work that is unique. I can’t walk around looking too perfect, can I? I have to leave something interesting for people to find.
The kettle boils like a dog howling at 2am- just like the dog down the street that keeps me awake. Mum says that I’m just making a big deal out of nothing- that it isn’t that bad and that my sleeping problems shouldn’t be anyone else’s. I think she takes pills to sleep.
Mum looks up from her phone. Something urgent sits just behind her eyes. She smiles. Back to the phone.
I pour myself a cup of tea. I sit down. I take a photo of my perfectly manicured hand delicately draped around the mug. 30 likes. I need to come up with anything original to post- it’s all too… basic. My glasses start to fog up as I lift it to my mouth. Mum’s stare eats into my hands. I get up and pour her a cup of tea.
“I’m going to have to buy you a new school jumper soon.” Her eyes scan down my front. I want to fold into myself.
“Don’t worry, it’ll last for a while.” Her right eyebrow goes up. A smile crosses her face. She looks back down at her phone.
“Not at this rate.” A little part of me dies.
I take my tea back to my room. Her eyes dig into my pudgy hips. Haters gonna hate, but mothers gonna make you feel bad for things that aren’t in your control. The first time she made me feel bad for having a stomach I was five. She’s been on a diet since the minute she popped me out. At first it was no fat- fat was a sin. Then it was no carbs. Now- intermittent fasting (also known as eating disorders with a sprinkling of science). I was just a kid, all I wanted was ice cream and juice. I kept getting in the way of her diets. I was adorable as a child- objectively. I had round, rosy cheeks that dimpled whenever I smiled. She didn’t see any of that. She saw a little girl with a round belly.
She marched me into the bathroom.
She showed me her flat stomach
She told me that is what I am supposed to look like.
Screw that.
I get a pair of scissors. I get to work.
They say revenge is sweet, and best served cold. So, revenge must be ice-cream. It hurts if you eat too much of it, but it feels great while you are doing it. I don’t think it is the answer to everything, but it works pretty well for so many. And none of this ‘the best revenge is proving them wrong’ nonsense. Make it hurt a little. This is revenge for all the ice cream she made me feel bad about eating.
Mum calls me to leave for school. Her eyes glaze over at the sight of me.
“You can’t leave the house looking like that” The new ladders in my tights show more skin then they hide, and the hastily cut, jagged hem of my now too-short-skirt don’t help the situation either. My shirt barely reaches my belly button and what was my jumper has suddenly become a sweater vest. The photo of my rebellion uniform should have gotten at least a hundred likes by now. “You can’t wear that to school. Go change.”
“No point” Her eyes widen. It could be fear, it could be anger, it could be any emotion in between. I brace myself for the storm.
“You didn’t?” I grin. She runs upstairs. I’ll give it,
3…
2…
1…
“You ruined every piece of your uniform.” Her scream pierces every corner of the house.
“I just wanted my uniform to fit better so you wouldn’t have to buy me any new clothes”  My smugness definitely doesn’t help. I hear her anger radiating all the way down the stairs. The silence blankets the entranceway as quickly as a squid’s ink turns the ocean black. Maybe I could have made a better choice.
Whoops.
Life was nice when I used to have a phone. And was allowed to leave the house. And had a life. Maybe revenge is only good when it’s on someone who can’t ruin your entire life. I probably won’t revenge for a while- I probably can’t revenge for a while. Always revenge with caution.