Redefining Beautiful

Chapter One: Wishful Thinking

Chapter One

Wishful Thinking

I always knew I was fat. I mean, it’s not something you can lie about or hide from others. Because when I say “fat”, I’m talking about being obese where my doctor suggests dieting to my mom whenever I go in for a checkup and my dad slips weight loss pills in my food because he’s so embarrassed to have a daughter - who was supposed to be a boy - be so overweight and lazy. My dad wanted me to be a boy so bad that he tried to make me participate in sports, but I just wasn’t athletic. Not only because I really am lazy, but because I just wasn’t all that into sports.

So no.

I’m not those twigs that stand in front of the mirrors, checking their reflection after eating a full meal, and saying to their other skinny friends, “I’m so fat” or “I need to lose weight” for validation to reassure their shame in eating an abundance of food.

You could say I got used to the fat jokes, and my parents’ failed attempts to get me to lose weight, and wishing I had the perfect body. I kind of just shoved all those feelings to the back of my mind, and pretended I didn’t feel them anchoring me down.

Finally, my parents let me quit doing sports in sixth grade and from there, my weight skyrocketed. I’m not one of those stories where I have all these emotional issues that I have to overcome. I’m just a lazy girl who lacks in self-confidence, and because I have always felt that’s just the way I am, I never took the steps to fix it.

Because let’s face it, people only notice you if you’re beautiful. And according to society, a two-hundred-four pound, fifteen-year-old girl with oily skin, dried out hair, who only wears sweatpants and sweatshirts everywhere isn’t considered beautiful.

My best friend, Destiny Drew Thompson (I say her full name because I think it’s pretty. Not to mention how much my dad loves her because Drew would have been my name. You know, if I were a boy, but my mom wouldn’t let him name me Drew since I wasn’t the son he wanted), is so into current affairs and the latest fashion trend. She slaves away reading magazines, and emptying her dad’s wallet. I try to explain to my dad that he should be happy that I’m not wasting money buying pointless girl crap like makeup and clothes, but he’s so obsessed with Destiny’s sports reputation that he could care less.

Anyway, hearing Destiny just talk about having these clothes and doing this and doing that because he said this and she said that really wears me out. But Destiny is considered one of those pretty, skinny girls at school, so it only makes sense that she’d be shallow as a kiddie pool. I put up with her because we both know if she were to actually be herself around the pretty, skinny girls, World War lll would start.

So I’m basically a safety, or a base (I don’t know what they call it in sports) for Destiny because she can tell me anything and I don’t care enough to tell anyone else. No one expects someone as beautiful as Destiny to be best friends with someone like me, so they won’t come digging for information out of me. Not that they would if they knew Destiny and I were really close anyway. I’ve noticed that when you’re not pretty, people kind of look over you, just pretending you don’t exist.

I’m actually okay, or at least try to be okay, with not existing. I would much rather not exist and be content than to exist and be so self-conscious of every move I make because there are always a set of eyes overseeing me. I wouldn’t want to build up any kind of thought in someone’s speculating mind because of a poor or misjudged choice I made.

“Hello there, cow-lee,” well, maybe I am not completely nonexistent. At least not to Eminem-wannabe, Cole Webb. “I see you beat anorexia again over Spring break.” He tantalized.