sg_abigail (sg_abigail) wrote in supergleerpg, @ 2011-09-09 22:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | !type: narrative, -2011: september, former character: abigail morris, ~complete |
Narrative : Parental Gravity [Abuse, Body Image Issues]
Who: Abigail Morris and her mother, Zara (NPC)
When: Friday, September 9th, Morning
What: Abigail is less than perfect - She experiences some rather irregular weight fluctuations.
Where: Abigail's bedroom.
Warnings: Light abuse, body image issues
She had a routine.
Get up, yoga, skin preparation, shower, brush her teeth, do her hair, makeup, weigh herself, get dressed, eat breakfast, call for the limo, go to school.
Most of the routine was fine, but it wasn't the most pleasant experience stepping onto the scale.
It didn't help that Zara would always breathe down her neck, analyzing every little bit of her routine. After she'd wash her face, Zara would always request her to do it again after looking at her pores with a magnifying glass. She'd bark at Abigail to floss, time precisely how long she was brushing and even sometimes go into her daughter's mouth and clean between her teeth.
Still by the end of it Zara would tell her she was hideous. She was too fat, her skin wasn't clear enough, her teeth covered in plaque. If there was an imperfection, Abigail was sure to be reminded of it. God what a lovely mother.
To be fair, it's not like Zara had anything better to do with her time. Zara had no friends, while she had access to all the stores she could clean out and doctors she could buy, she mostly was stuck to the estate to occupy her time - and what better way to occupy her time than demoralizing her daughter.
When it came to the scale, if Abigail weighed more than 100 lbs, there was hell to pay. Abby was good at maintaining her weight though. She only spoiled herself on the rarest occasions, otherwise she was always healthy as can be, eating whatever macrobiotic food Zara would write up onto her menu.
Still, Abigail was good at mornings, but not this one. When Abigail woke up, lethargy consumed her, her whole entire body ached. Her arms, her legs, everything moved as though it was being held down by an unbearable force, she could barely pull herself upwards without sweating.
The morning routine was hardly fluid, downward dog quickly turned into faceplant. Her muscles were not massive to begin with, but they could barely resist her weight before she sank into the floor, her butt hanging in the air as the rest of her crawled across the carpet.
She didn't drink last night so it was barely worth suggesting that it was a hangover, but it certainly felt like one.
When she stepped on the scale, it was a bit of a shock, no, a massive shock. When Abigail stepped onto the scale she saw a 80 on top of 100 lbs. It was bizarre, all her clothes fit the same, clearly the scale was malfunctioning.
Zara wasn't as certain. She analyzed the scale, and then analyzed her daughter's face. She watched as Abigail moved around the room.
"Well, you are getting massive."
Abigail stared into the mirror, pulling at her arms, at her waist. She threw on her dress and spun around.
"Your eye can't tell. Your clothes have room for your mistakes, you're letting yourself get fat."
Abigail folded her arms. Her mother had no sense of what Abigail was wearing, the only style Zara had was nothing she cared. Abigail knew very well that any weight fluctuation would show up in any dress of hers in a minute and she was not blind. Or at least, she was certain she wasn't.
"Don't be ridiculous Zara, the scale is clearly broken." Zara unfolded her arms, moving from her position of power for just a moment so that she could checked the scale herself. Her weight didn't fluctuate, everything seemed to be in working order. She spun around, lurching forward from her 5"11 frame to cross examine her daughter once more.
"You barely stood straight for yoga and you expect me to blame a piece of machinery? You've been baking all those treats lately for classes. You're probably sneaking a few of them."
"I've been good. You see me eat every say. There is no other explanation besides the scale!" Abigail pleaded.
"You're tongue has been getting a lot of use, hasn't it?" Zara snapped, swinging an arm at Abigail. The slap barely made an imprint on Abigail's cheek, but it made her quick to lose balance, her whole body wobbling until she toppled over. Her face smacking right into the marble tiling.
The room rumbled, delicate china falling to the floor before breaking around her. Abigail winced.
"Disgusting. You blame the scale and the room shakes." Zara planted her Prada heel onto Abigail's waist, "Get up."
With the best of intentions Abigail struggles to lift herself from the ground, her arms twitching. Zara's own weight didn't alleviate the process, even though the woman now weighed half of what she did. She gave up, slumping to the floor.
"You're, you're ruining my dress." Abigail's eyes trailed after Zara's heels as they mangled the fabric.
"A pig doesn't deserve to wear women's clothes." Zara hissed, pushing more of her weight onto her daughter, "Now, get up."
"I can't." Abigail weakly mutteeds. Zara pulled her foot from her daughter, eventually she puts out a hand, offering to lift the girl. Even with the two working together, they were barely able to get Abigail to her knees. Zara eyed her daughter with intrigue and disgust before leaving the room, spitting on her daughter before slamming the door.
Fuck the routine.