She'd had it. She was sick and tired how they ruled over her. Of how they mocked her plans and imposed without apology. They overstepped boundaries and clomped all over her with their dirty boots. They told her what to do and didn't allow her an opinion. They ridiculed her and left her open to ridicule. They humiliated her and took advantage of her weakness. They deformed her beauty into something ugly and degenerate. They took her dignity and made silly games out of it. They broke her resolve and reduced her to a puppet that dangled onto their whims. They made her their slave and had their way with her. They slapped her around and spread her secrets. If only she could stand up to them. If only she could learn to say no. Food. If only she had the will to fight it. She'd be able to stick to that damn diet and reclaim that body of hers. But she caved in every time. Every single time. She'd had it. She was sick of it. But she was too weak. "Tomorrow," she promised herself uselessly for the millionth time, as she reached for a fourth helping "I'll diet."