Francine & Earl

Slim*

The person in the mirror was a stranger to Francine.

The stranger in the reflection she saw hanging on the inside of her closet door wore a dress, the kind young girls thought was meant for fairy tales and soon-to-be-queens. It was red, a color her mother said suited the brown skin tone Francine got from her Dominican grandparents and staying out in the sun playing football. The skirt was flared out, trailing down long legs to feet encased in black heels. Shoulder length light brown hair straightened to perfection, she could have been beautiful.

Yet, the dress was too small.

Her broad shoulders stretched the fabric of the thick straps taut, while the rest of her body could barely fit into the bodice. Fingers nervously pulling at the bottom of the garment that should have reached her knees, Francine attempted to hide the delineation of her muscular thighs, even though she was the only one in her room. The top hung loosely, mostly because she didn't have a chest to fill out the neckline; thankfully the bottom wasn't form fitting, or it would attest even more to her lack of curves.

The heels didn't fit.

Francine's feet had always been large, even at a young age. For most of her life, she shopped in the men's shoe section because there were no female sizes that ran up that high in her local mall. She had been the brunt of many jokes when asked about her foot size, and whispered about for her lack of heels during formal events, like the one she was forced to go to the previous hour. Now, in shoes that were definitely a size too small, she realized why.

Her hair was a bird's nest.

Francine was a swimmer before joining the football team, something her mother approved of because, while her daughter was muscular, she wasn't the hulking form she was now. But, when the first signs of chlorine turning her light brown hair, bordering on blonde, green appeared, she knew it was over. The strands began breaking away, frizzing on her head and feeling like straw. Her once long, curly hair turned into a brittle monster that barely brushed her shoulders. Despite it being healthier now that she stopped swimming, the constant use of a flatiron still contributed to its stiffness.

And finally, her face.

Francine had never liked her face. In comparison to her cousins, it looked as if the Fates had randomized her features, combining aspects of her white father and her morena mother in a way she had grown to despise. Her nose was too large, not having the slight impish curve of her mother's. Her eyes were too small, giving her a harsh expression from beneath thick brows. Her lips were too thin, discolored with hyperpigmentation. Her jaw was too strong, as she had been told repeatedly over the years.

Not many people in Dempsey looked like her, a population made up of mostly white families, with small communities of ethnic minorities right on the outskirts and closer to the main city. People perceived her features as masculine, as she was well aware, and she didn't fit into the idea of "beautiful" deep in the suburbs. When she snuck out of the house one time with her friends, she was even mistaken for a man. A girl had walked up to her and began to flirt, but Francine didn't pick up the signals.

At least not until the girl tried to shove her tongue down her throat.

Not liking where her thoughts were going, Francine sighed at her reflection one more time. She already sniffled a bit earlier when her mother informed her that she would be wearing a dress to a friend's wedding, but plastered a neutral expression on her face despite it. Yet, in the car on the way home, when her mother gave her a fake smile and sang her praises on how good her daughter looked with disappointment in her eyes, Francine felt the telltale burn in her eyes that pulsed with her shame.

Francine didn't have to glance at the pinched look in her mother's brow or the derision curling her lips to know how much she had embarrassed her at the wedding. How couldn't she have been humiliated, with a daughter looking like a son that she forced into a dress shuffling around while the slim, pale bridesmaids flounced gracefully, wearing makeup and smiles?