Day 17

Day 17: 32”

The sunlight woke me up, something I wasn’t used to seeing. I had always been an early riser for most of my life, or had the shades and blinds drawn down enough to make the room resemble the nighttime. Jessie liked to open the shades as soon as she woke up. She told me it helped her to wake up and see what type of weather was going on so she would know how to dress. Thoughts of watching her dress swirled in my mind as I lay staring straight ahead, blinking sleepily as my eyes adjusted to the glaring sunlight stabbing into the room.

My nose picked up the smell of bacon permeating the room as the empty side of the bed let me know that not only was Jessie up, but she was making breakfast. Turning over on my back, I stared at the ceiling, the smell of the food she was cooking mixing with her perfume that had become a part of the sheets. I stretched my legs and my arms overhead, knowing full well what had probably happened again during the night since I had not gotten any smaller during the daytime yesterday. I actually preferred when it happened during the night, but I had gotten used (oh, my gosh, really?) to the tingle and slight loosening of my clothes that accompanied what was happening to me. As I sat up, sure enough, I could feel the shorts a little looser around my middle. A very subtle difference, but I knew it nonetheless. I guess some small part of me always hoped they would actually have become tighter to signal this was over; that I was starting to grow again as promised. Swinging my legs over the bed, I let them slide down off the bed and land on the floor. As I did, I had to have one hand grab the band of my shorts to keep them around my waist. I sighed looking at the expanse of the bed in front of me and the size of Jackie’s silken red robe laid gently my side of the bed. I ran my hand down across it, loving the silky feel, fully aware in how much larger it appeared to be than what I was used to.

More than an inch. I knew it. The process of what was happening to me is starting to accelerate, just as they had said. As I walked to Jessie’s chest of drawers, I looked for subtle differences that became more obvious to changes in the room I was so used to. It was hard to really notice, until you came to an item whose size you were accustomed to on a daily basis. It was then that how much smaller I was became blatantly recognizable. Such was the case with the chest of drawers the top of which I normally kept my wallet and change in a little brass dish Jessie insisted I use was there for me to use every day. That became less and less possible as my height decreased to where the top was no longer accessible, much less visible to me. Not that I needed to carry a wallet and change like this anyway I thought.

Leaning over and pulling on the brass handle, I gently tugged open the drawer, stepping backs a little to peer inside. Inside, on the left, were a stack of three to four pair of different colored shorts all neatly folded. She had told me two days ago that she had bought the next smaller size. This was something I had become accustomed to as well, every other day it seemed, out (shrinking, not growing) what I was wearing. I reached in and took a pair out, ungrasping what I was wearing and slipping it off. Briefs I didn’t worry about anymore because I refused to wear children’s tighty whities. Saying this had made Jessie laugh but when she saw I didn’t think it was very funny, she had apologized but through an impish smile. Pulling them on and satisfied (but still a little miffed that they now fit) I walked back to the bed to get the t-shirt I had been wearing before bed. Before I had met Jessie, it would have been on the floor with my shorts (I always slept that way). But since we moved in, I always found it neatly folded on the bed, as it was now. Picking it up and pulling it on, the difference in side was again noticeable. The bottom hung just a little below my waist.

I walked over to Jessie’s full-length mirror and gazed at my reflection. This is something I did every morning now where before I had never done. I dressed in the closet and groomed my hair before leaving for class, but now it had become my morning ritual. Jessie had noticed and had cleverly placed a yard stick next to one of the arms that held the mirror, taping it in place. She hadn’t really said anything to me, but I knew what was going on with me had become to fascinate her as the inches kept coming off of me. In the first couple of days, she asked me how much I thought I had lost and I always mumbled I had no idea. She had proudly installed the yardstick on the seventh or eighth day and she had insisted that I stand next to it on the first Saturday morning. I had hemmed and hawed about it, slightly embarrassed I suppose. To tell the truth, I think I was a little angry that she was practically forcing me to do it. I will never forget the look on her face when she was standing in front of me, looked at the mark on the yardstick and realized that not only was I noticeably inches shorter than what I should be, she was staring directly into my eyes exactly the same height I was. Her mouth had fell open and she had slightly giggled and whispered, “It’s really happening just like they said, isn’t it.” I had quickly stepped away from the yardstick. That was the first definite realization of what was happening. It had felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. In the next few days afterward, Jessie had not mentioned the yardstick. I think she must have seen the look on my face, perhaps panic-stricken, or whatever, but she had never asked me about it since.

As I looked at myself in the mirror, nothing really seemed changed which was calming enough. Sure, my t-shirt was slightly oversized, but the relative size proportions of things reflected were not so clear. It wasn’t until I moved around the room and stood in proximity to things that made my change in size so apparent. Staring at my reflection, I knew that soon, at the rate the process was accelerating, Jessie wouldn’t need to buy anything for me, clothing wise. I would probably just wear the t-shirt for a while until it too became too cumbersome to wear. I imagined that for a few moments, pictures of toddler clothing, with silly animals or such nonsense soon fitting me and the idea of Jessie rummaging through racks silently choosing what she thought would fit me and what she would be thinking as she chose. After all, she wouldn’t be buying it for a child, but for her boyfriend who would at that point certainly stand in size far below her waist. Would she have a secret smile on her face as the salesclerk marveled at a particular shirt commenting, “Oh, this is cute.” Would she realize as she passed the toy section beyond the children’s clothing, past an aisle full of dolls. Out of curiosity, would she go down that aisle and stare at the packages of doll-clothing, searching through the columns until she came to a few that would work for Ken. Would she reach up and take one down and then imagine that I would actually fit into it. And that if I did, that her boyfriend would now be small enough to fit into the palm of her hand. Her boyfriend would be doll sized eventually, she would think.

Doll sized.

Looking down the length of the mirror toward my feet, the sheer eventuality of it sent a quick pang of fear through me. A queasy sensation filled my stomach as I realized that if this kept going (and obviously it would, just like they said) I would no longer be able to see my reflection because I would not reach the glass.

Eight inches tall.