“Damm” She shouted and ran out the house through her garden, hair flapping and slapping her in the face. She drove her BMW off toward the corner shop frantacally. She parked a good 2feet from the curb, and darted into the shop.

“Good Morning”  Vera said, whilst serving a tall man, as Sasha swooped past.

“Morning” Sasha replied grabbing a bottle of fresh orange and The Guardian.

The pace in the shop felt off kilter as people meandered in slow motion blocking her every avenue of passage. “Come ON” she screamed inside to herself, hoping they could see the urgency in her face as she mouthed the words silently.  The wait was painful. After a confusion over a lottery ticket and a failed debit card and several other customers Sasha opened the juice and began reading her paper, already resigned to a stern rollicking imminently.

“Lovely fresh day isn’t it today love?” Vera asked perkishly

“Mmm bit windy” Sasha replied handing over the chewing gums, malteasers and bottle of red that she had acquired whilst waiting, along with a mostly empty orange and crumpled paper.

Sasha paid and flashed Vera a smile, pulled the bottle and its plastic bag and contents up close to her chest cupping the bottle in her palm and turned quickly and sharply into the torso of a broad man. He took a step back, and she fell forward stumbling releasing the wine to catch herself, knocking a boy sideways and knocking over a stand of hair accessories and tat.

The wine bottle smashed mainly inside the carrier bag, splashing mainly Sasha and the man she bumped into.

Sasha looked at her magazine on the table. Take a Break, with an image of an overly healthy ludicrously young girl, spot free,  probably overpaid, spoilt and most definitely too thin. My husband is a murderer in big red writing on the front. Lose a stone in a week. Amazing abbs with our special spring workout. My dog knew I had cancer. All printed in bold framing the face of the girl who obviously wouldn’t know what a kebab was if it was thrown in her face.
How ridiculous she thought to herself. If only I had a husband, murderer or not, just alive would do!  Lose a stone in a week, yeah whatever, the only way I could lose a stone in a week is if I chewed off my feet and vomited my intestines out. As for my abbs Ha, just to see my juicy looking feet would be great!
Sasha slurped at her coffee and burnt some toast before grabbing her bag and looking in the microwave, the back of the sofa, fruit bowl, the tub of things on the windowsill and biscuit tin for her keys. They were in her jacket pocket of course.

Sasha is not fat, she has long dark hair, brown eyes and very long legs.  She measured her BMI and was told that she is a stone overweight.  Her BMI is fine but the graph on Tescos diets suggests she should lose a stone. It is a hideous way off making people feel fatter than they really are. Do the estimates again, knock half a stone off and you still have to lose a stone. Knock another stone off and yep, you still need to loose weight. “What a bloody cheek! I would need crutches to carry my bones around if I was that bloody skinny” She had said to herself one night online after consuming a whole box of malteasers.

Thats life though. You never can be thin enough, not for Tescos or its stupid ill fitting clothes, or the job you didn’t get or the man you still don’t have, or the girls in the click in the office. If you shedded your skin and emerged as a butterfly with just paper for wings and an antenna to probe life with, your arse would still look fat in those skinny jeans! Sasha threw the empty box on the floor and gulped the rest of her wine before nodding off to sleep and dreaming about butterflies and chocolate.

A bird flew into the window of her bedroom, it was motionless for a moment, it peered in seeing a duvet fly up and a woman emerge screaming. ” What the bloody hell is that!”  Sasha screached falling over herself to watch the bird slide down the window. She dressed into yesterdays trousers and pulled on a lycra white vest top, scrubbed her teeth with an over used toothbrush, and stumbled down the stairs to the kitchen. The wind was battering the house, she put the kettle on and gazed out of the kitchen window at the destruction.