My Chubby Girl

Chapter 1

For my dear friend, Kristine.

Weight is just a number. ;)

Chapter 1

After six years…

“Sweetheart, you’ve ripped your pants again!” My mom said exasperatedly as she inspected my beaten up, triple XL  denim pants.  

It’s the seventh time the seams around the thigh area were ripped apart. Not to mention that the crotch was re-stitched five times. Other people would just get over it and buy a new pair, but not us. We’re not rich, and my clothes are made-to-order. Where do you think could you buy clothes big enough to fit a two-hundred and fifty-three pounds girl like me in Hawaii, where every girl has to be beach-ready?

“If you’d just be a little more careful, we can make this pair last for a few more weeks,” Mom said. She started stitching it again. “I promise we’ll get you a new pair as soon as I get my next paycheck.”

I couldn’t help my tears from spilling as I watched my mom stitch up my pants. She looked very tired with all those wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. Her hair is graying too, and her lips seemed to have settled into a permanent grimace. Having an obese daughter like me sure didn’t help either. I was only a burden. A heavy burden, that is.

“I’m sorry, mom,” I said as I tried to contain my sobs.

My mom looked at me sadly. Her dark brown eyes, the same shade as mine, glistened. “What for sweetheart?”

I looked away from her and rubbed the tears away from eyes. “I’m sorry I’m so fat. I’m just a burden to you, Mom, I’m sorry!” I cried.

My mom put down the pants and brought her skinny arms around me. “Oh sweetheart, don’t say that. You’ll get better,” She said.

I have hypothyroidism which means my thyroid glands, which secrete a certain hormone for maintaining the body’s metabolism, were malfunctioning; hence my metabolism was underactive. Or at least that’s what the doctors told me. Bottom line is: I was fat. And no one really cared why I was. To most people, I was just the fat girl who ate a lot and never exercised.

“Next week, we’re moving to Seattle. My boss is sending me to manage the branch there. We’re staying permanently, and then we’ll find a good doctor to treat you,” Mom said cheerfully.

My eyes narrowed at Mom. “Manage?” I repeated. “You mean you got promoted?”

Mom grinned from ear-to-ear, which she seldom did. She looked younger when she did that. “Yes! I told you we can make it even if it’s just the two of us,” She said.

I smiled too. Yes, I never doubted that we’d get through life. Dad died from a heart attack seven years ago, so it’s just Mom and me now. The first year, it was difficult. We were almost buried in debt since Dad also had cancer before he died. His chemotherapy was expensive and so were his medications. Could you imagine that? We struggled with his cancer for years, but he still died because of heart attack. That made me realize how unfair life could be. Since then, Mom and I stayed with Dad’s sister, Aunt Irene, until now. And Aunt Irene wasn’t the least bit happy about it. She hated us. In fact, she hated the world. But Aunt Irene was rich, so people would question her if she didn’t take care of her brother’s widow and daughter.

“That’s awesome, Mom!” I said happily. “We can finally say goodbye to Aunt Irene. I bet she’d be jumping in joy!”

Mom frowned at me. “No, don’t say that, Kristine. Irene has been nice to us, and she let us live here,” She said, scanning the room we stayed in. Aunt Irene made us stay in the maids’ room, when there were better rooms upstairs.