I open my eyes. The room is flooded with white light. Must be late morning. I want to sleep more, but my bladder is on the verge of exploding. I walk to the bathroom barefooted and sit on the toilet. It seems as if I’m peeing a river. I don’t wash my hands after I flush my urine to converge with the rest of the neighbours’ shit and piss. Back in the bedroom, I take off my nightgown and stand naked on the shining, stainless-steel, brand-new digital scale I got myself last week. I couldn’t pass up on the sale. This morning, the shining stainless-steel, brand-new digital scale shows 104.7 kilograms. That’s 300 grams less than yesterday morning. My mood immediately shifts to elation and any doubts about my newly acquired, shining stainless-steel digital scale evaporates.
I open my closet. Suddenly, too many choices. So many beautiful dresses, all bought on a shopping spree in Hadar, mostly from big Russian or Moroccan older women. I didn’t try any of them on in the tiny stores. The ladies promised they’d fit. And they do. After all, they’re all a size tent. Made for big, sturdy women. I bought them all in floral patterns. Suhad would die all over again if she knew this is my new wardrobe.
A new piece of writing. I have no idea where it will take me; this character with her morning scene, just burst into my mind while I was out on my nightly walk tonight. Let me know if you’d like to read more of this as I progress in writing by leaving a comment or writing me an email at firstname.lastname@example.org