"Exercise. NOW." My mother growled, slamming into my room. "Mom, What do you mean? I did my archery today. I worked hard." "Who cares? That's not really exercise. Plus, you need to lose weight, remember?" She yells as I reluctantly begin.
I stand in front of the mirror. All I see is hatred for my body, caused by the person who wanted me to love it. I was too fat, too lazy, too un-athletic. I hate it here. I hate my life. I hate the person I am. I wish I could just loose a couple pounds so that I can eat the foods I want and control my life once again.
(Sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, this is just how I feel at the moment)