skinny - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
When folks saw Anna they just noticed how skinny she was and quietly suspected an eating disorder. In truth she had nothing of the sort; the world made her anxious and her only relief was exercise. She felt the growing tingles in her hands and knew she had to act before they crept further up her arms or made her legs shake. With the dancing and gymnastics she was lithe, graceful and more fat free than water. The other girls didn't care for her inner beauty, but preferred to neutralise her threat for male attention with scorn. The boys wanted just one thing - or at least that was true until the day Cassidy showed up.
What others called skinny was simply how Olivia preferred to be. She wasn't underweight, or at least not by much. Every morning she rose early to jog down by the river, feeling light and energized. In summertime she was a blast of bright colours and in winter she preferred the muted hues - but not matter what she was an almost silent figure moving with ease over the path.
There was a man on the steps. He would have been white if it weren't for all the freckles. There were so many his face was brown with small pale spaces here and there, like the tips of grass struggling to show through the golden-brown leaves of fall. His hair was a perfect mop of red, it would have been lion-like had he not been so skinny. His old maroon t-shirt was a small, but on him it was like his big brother's shirt, clinging where it shouldn't and hanging loose where it shouldn't. The concrete steps were damp from the morning rain, but he was sat right on them like it was summer. Already the frigid water was seeping in. Surely he must feel it. His arms were wrapped tightly around his knees that jutted up sharply. I took in his face for as long as I dared look, skeletal really. No-one's cheekbones should stick out so far. His face had no trace of life other than not being blue. It was like he was breathing without really being alive. In his hand was a torn photograph...
The wolf had seen better days. His fur was thin and his clung to his frame like a windbreaker in a gale. Even from several yards away Gabby could count his ribs. His movements were faltering as if each step pained him and his head was sunk low to the ground. Those hazel eyes that should be scanning for danger or opportunities to eat never rose from the baked summer mud. Then just yards away he tumbled to the ground as if he meant to lie down but couldn't coordinate his limbs. Then with his great grey head on his paws he closed his eyes. This fine animal with no concept of death was ready for his long sleep.
"'Skinny' is the jealous way to say 'slim,' so don't say it. I'm not skinny, I'm just right and if you don't like that I'm not in the least bit sorry. The 'we come in all shapes and sizes' phrase works for slim people too."
He eyed the weightlifting kits online with hungry eyes. His legs were like stilts and his arms like rubber bands. He longed to be muscular like the other boys. Then maybe he'd get a girl too. But for now he was just a four-eyed, skinny nerd.
When the January wind blew harshly against her bare face she longed for a little fat under her papery skin. She envied the girls with curves, she supposed they never felt this cold, never had to wear so many layers.
Her mother lovingly called her 'my little tooth pick.' She had grown so fast there had been no time for her body to put any meat on her bones. She was skinny.
Pale skin. Pale as death. Jagged, grotesque cheekbones. Skeletal shoulders draped in black.