© Copyright 2006 by Christina Klinesmith

Deborah narrowed her eyes at her reflection. “That dress looks a little tight?” Voices of doubt played through her mind. “You’re not thin enough for that style.”

Her past crowded around her. Grammar school boys arrived first as a blush began to creep into her cheeks. “Deborah Prig, fat as a pig.”

The boys’ chants faded as her mother’s affectionate voice cajoled her with words every overweight girl dreads. “Sweetie, you have such a pretty face. If only you’d lose some weight.”

Her junior high class joined the painful reminiscence with a taunting rendition of “Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf.” “Who’s as fat as Deborah Prig, so darn big, big fat pig…”

Memories assailed her and she began pulling at the princess cut bodice of her dress. Unfortunately, she had matured much sooner than other girls but couldn’t hide the fact behind baggie clothing because nothing was ever baggie enough. The teasing had escalated to include her new curves and, needing to find something, anything, she liked about herself, Deborah hid behind her schoolbooks, becoming a straight-A student.

The torturous years fast-forwarded through her mind, but not quickly enough to miss the whispered voices in the girls’ locker room during her freshman year of high school.

“Did you see her changing clothes?”

“Yes, it was dis…gusting.” Giggles bounced off the tile walls as they shushed one another.

A third voice sounded. “How do you get that big? Like, how much would you have to eat?”

Deborah’s reflection showed that the blush now extended down her neck and shoulders. She felt her body expanding, as if she was gaining weight by mere memory. The figure in the mirror wavered as Deborah dabbed at her eyes, not wanting to ruin her makeup.

Who was she kidding? After all these years, she was still that fat girl who’d never had a date, never gone to her prom, and never been kissed a boy. Not until Mark.

She blinked back tears as anger bloomed, hot and bright, in her stomach. Mark, the jock every girl wanted to date in college. Mark, who informed her that she should have her own zip code. Mark, the boy she proudly turned down for a date after losing 40 pounds on summer break. She shocked him into silence by reminding him who she was and relished the surge of confidence. The feeling didn’t last long. Deborah was now a challenge and Mark was determined to have her until she gave in to his pursuit.

Deborah watched unblinking as her fingers slid down the length of her flushed cheeks, recalling the time she’d spent with Mark. He’d been charming, at first, buying her gifts, saying romantic things she longed to hear. He acted exactly how she had dreamed a man in love would act, until she was no longer a challenge. As swiftly as the shower of affection began, it vanished. The gifts stopped; the flowery prose wilted. At first, he merely ignored her presence allowing her to adorn him as a trophy for his ego. Before long, he informed her that she was too fat and ugly for guy with his reputation. Her storybook prince had become a villain.

Deborah pleaded with him, promising to do anything to regain his love and he half-heartedly agreed. If he wanted someone stunning she would lose weight. Healthy eating and exercise wouldn’t cause the drastic changes she sought. She scoured weight loss ads and beauty magazines. Low-fat, high-protein, it was all so confusing. She tried several diets at once but she was always so hungry.

Deborah slid her hand against her stomach recalling the gnawing hunger that had haunted her every waking moment for nearly two weeks. She quickly learned to ignore her body’s cry for food, becoming adept at fighting the pangs for days at a time and only allowing herself to eat when exhaustion from schoolwork, three daily workouts and starvation claimed her. Even then, it was only an apple or a banana with a bottle of water.

The charade became harder to continue after returning home for the summer. Pushing food around her plate no longer seemed to fool her mother and she began questioning Deborah’s eating habits, suggesting they see a doctor. Deborah realized she had to change tactics in order to keep her secret.

She tried to eat small bites of everything her mother prepared for dinner the next night and became immediately sick to her stomach. She couldn’t let her dieting success so far be sabotaged by her fear of discovery. Barely able to fight the nausea through their meal, she excused herself and sprinted to the bathroom.

Deborah’s mouth filled with the bitter taste of bile as she recalled throwing up violently. She covered her eyes, unable to look at her reflection any longer. Shame filled her as she remembered her relief while resting her forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet, how a sense of control flooded her. She had finally discovered the secret to beauty and thought that no one would know what she was doing.

Her food portions quickly grew larger and her purging sessions more frequent. It became easier to secret herself in the bathroom, vomiting quickly and silently than not to eat. She began consuming laxatives like breath mints and had dropped another 40 pounds by the end of summer. Once miserable at 180 pounds, she was now desperately struggling to maintain her waifish 100 pounds.

She realized she wasn’t stunning yet and still wanted to lose more weight but couldn’t wait to see Mark. He hadn’t called all summer and butterflies danced in her stomach at the thought of his reaction to the new, improved Deborah. Searching the campus for him, she found him sitting in the courtyard with a girl. Silent shock froze her limbs as he kissed the girl passionately. He looked up, acknowledging her presence.

“Deb?” His brows reached for his hairline. “What happened to you?”

“I…I…” Sobs choked her reply.

“You look like a skeleton. Are you sick?”

He still cared! Her heart leapt. “Who is...” Deborah’s voice trailed off, fearing his answer.

“Summer.” He flashed his charming smile at the girl leaning against his shoulder, staring at him with dreamy eyes. “We’ve been seeing each other for months.”

“But…”

“I told you it was over last year so don’t get all weepy on me,” Mark interrupted. “You look horrible.”

Deborah couldn’t breathe. Horrible?

As the couple resumed their make-out session, unconcerned by her presence, Deborah barely stumbled to the bathroom before retching violently. Shaking, she stared at her haggard reflection in the cheap mirror, wondering at the desperation in her eyes. She was in control, wasn’t she? Unable to bear the circulating campus gossip, Deborah hid in her dorm room for three days, water and her tears her only companions.

Deborah sighed at her memories and gave her reflection a sympathetic smile. Satin rustled under her fingertips as she smoothed the ivory dress along the sides of her waist. Her smile brightened.

She had emerged from her dorm room dry-eyed and resolved to be a lonely fat girl. Giving up, she marched to the cafeteria promising herself she would eat. Staring down at the food-filled tray, everything lost its appeal. Limp, greasy French fries, a cold burger and dry chocolate cake stared up at her, daring her to take a bite.

“How can someone so tiny eat that much food?”

Deborah glanced up, her gaze meeting the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. She narrowed her eyes in response and looked back at her tray. Did he just call her tiny? Was he blind? His tray clattered to the table as he slid into the chair.

“I’m Chris.”

She didn’t feel like talking and sighed loudly, hoping he would take the hint. “Deborah.”

“The prophetess.”

“The what?” She wondered if he was a little crazy.

“A prophetess from the Bible.” Without waiting, he enthralled her with the tale of Deborah. His kind voice soothed her wounded soul, like a balm for her aching heart. Several hours of discussion passed before she realized she had missed her classes. Chris glanced at his watch.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “Did you miss your classes?”

He smiled and her heart thumped against her ribs. What was it about this guy that put her so at ease?

“No, I finished my classes before lunch. Want to have dinner with me?” She hesitated. “Come on, you didn’t even touch your food.” Deborah wasn’t about to tell him that she couldn’t bring herself to eat it.

“Just one dinner,” he promised, “And if you don’t like me after that, just give me a fake phone number, okay?”

Deborah laughed, surprising herself at the foreign sound. How long had it been since she laughed?

“All right. One dinner.”

“This is dinner?” She tried to hide her surprise behind a smile while he introduced her to yet another pastor’s wife as a third type of Jell-O salad was spooned onto her paper plate. He had the good sense to look sheepish as they searched for two empty chairs.

“I spend a lot of time here. This is my family and my life.” It was the only excuse he’d ever offered and she welcomed his honesty.

Walking back to her dorm, he reached for her hand. “Do you have any idea how special you are?”

Deborah urgently searched his eyes for any sign of deceit, unable to find a trace. She wasn’t ready to like Chris but she did, a lot.

Several dates later, she was completely unprepared when, sitting beside her on the park bench, he reached for her hand and rubbed his thumb across the top of her hand nervously, as if searching for the right words. “Deborah, I think we need some help.”

“For what?” Fear seized her. He couldn’t know.

“You don’t eat enough to sustain a bird, then you eat more than I can. I know the signs.”

“I’m not…”

Chris cut her off. “My sister was anorexic and bulimic. You don’t have to live like this. It doesn’t have to control you.”

Deborah tried to be outraged; she wanted to be angry but only relief rose to the surface. She had been spinning out of control and her own willpower hadn’t been enough to keep her world on its axis. She was exhausted and it felt so right to allow him to see the genuine Deborah, the fearful Deborah, the needy Deborah frantically trying to hide behind secrets.

“I can’t stop.” Her sobs ripped from her chest.

“Oh, Debbie, don’t you realize?” He pulled her into his strong embrace. “I’ll be here. We’ll do it together.”

“Why would you want to stay?” The sordid details of her past spilled forth, the wall guarding her secrets finally torn down. She relived the years of ridicule and her relationship with Mark. She tried to explain her need for acceptance, how she just wanted someone to see her as beautiful.

“You’re lovely as an angel, as beautiful as a rose,” he quoted as he ran his thumb across her cheek, wiping away her tears. Chris pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “The king is enthralled with your beauty, and so am I.”

It was the beginning of a whirlwind romance. Chris took the opportunity to introduce Deborah to the love of her life, Jesus, the God-man who thought her worthy of the ultimate price. As her relationship with her newfound Savior deepened and evolved, her relationship with Chris bloomed from friendship to love. He remained beside her while she fought her addictions, constantly reminding her of God’s unconditional love.

Two years later, as they sat on the same bench, Deborah leaned her head against his shoulder, glancing up at him, still amazed that God had brought this man into her life just when she’d needed him most. “It’s been a rough two years. Are you sorry you’ve stayed with me?”

Chris shifted, taking her face in his rough palms. “I love you more that I’ve ever thought I could love anyone. The moment I saw you in that cafeteria, I knew you were the woman God had destined to be my wife. Sorry?” He pressed gentle kisses against her eyelids. “Never,” he whispered.

Her throat choked with emotion and Deborah didn’t trust herself to speak.

“So, what do you say?” Opening her eyes, she saw his smile and her heart skipped. “Want to marry me? But if you don’t like me, just give me a fake phone number.”

She laughed at the reminder of their first date. “Yes,” she whispered

Chris pressed his lips to hers before slipping the sparkling engagement ring on her finger. “Love never fails.”

Deborah eyed her reflection critically before adjusting the skirt of her wedding gown and, hearing the wedding march prepared to meet her groom at the end of the aisle. It had taken therapy, a dietician and hours on their knees for her to control the tainted images she’d created in her mind. Her battle would never be over and daily she prayerfully chose to see herself through His eyes and His Spirit rather than her own flawed assessments.

Slipping her trembling fingers into Chris’s warm palm, she heard his whisper as he brushed her veil from her shoulder. “The King is still enthralled with your beauty, and so am I.”




HEY! and don't forget to e-mail Christina Klinesmith if you have a comment!


Email's are coming to Liz ... Christia, if you see this, email me!





Return to the Short Stories Room!

Cybergrace Banner Exchange 2000