Last night she sat in the bathtub, watching her toes wiggle under the running water. Baby blue toenails, they were for spring, a spring she hoped would greet her warmly the next morning. Last night she sat in the bathtub, her body overcome by the running water and she watched each part of her be submerged from her toes of baby blue to her bruised calves and all the way up to her thighs, her thick, wiggling jiggling thighs, thighs that seemed to magnify as they sunk deeper in. Last night she sat in the bathtub wearing a bright green T-shirt, one that covered everywhere from her hips to her shoulders to disguise the protruding rolls and curves that she did not want to see or touch. Last night she sat in the bathtub, squeezing her muscles, first stomach and then Gluteus Maximus in hopes that they would suddenly become tight and toned. But they didn’t and she knew she could do nothing about it, for she was meant to be fat and useless, and scared and scarred and lonely and distraught and ugly and fat. Last night she got out of the bathtub and took off the green T-shirt. She rung it out and hung it to dry. Last night she stepped on the scale, hoping for good results but last night good results are not what she got. Last night she stepped back into the bathtub, the deep, steaming bathtub, and dunked her head under the water until her face turned purple and her eyes turned red and for a moment, all she could see was nothing at all. She tried her hardest to stay under, she felt weak at the heart and weak at the bones. Last night, she tried to die, because of the pain of not being perfect. She thought it was over, but then she saw herself. A reflection in the water, a close reality. Without thinking, she pulled herself up. Last night, she stepped out of the bath one more time, weak and dizzy, tripping over baby blue toes. She said good night to her mother and got into bed, only to wake up the next morning and find that spring had sprung.