Redefining Beautiful

Chapter Nine: The Starting Line

My mom tried apologizing for my dad’s behavior the next morning, but I told her I understood and I was going to take matters into my own hands. She told me that my doctor called about wanting to do a check up on me; to see where I stood with diabetes.

In the beginning of eighth grade, I was having severe migraines. My mom took me to the doctor, and he said I was starting to develop pre-diabetes. He warned me that if I didn’t start becoming healthier, I was only going to progress closer and closer until I would be officially diagnosed with diabetes.

I told my mom to tell him to give me more time. She just nodded, said she loved me, and left me in my room alone. I got dressed, but not sweats and a sweatshirt dressed. I put on a summer dress which barely fit me. Today was eighth grade graduation. To me, it was a huge deal because it was going to be the last day people saw me as this insecure, overweight mess of a human being.

I thought a lot about what Austin (a.k.a. Starbucks dude) told me at Starbucks a couple weeks ago before I fell asleep last night. I remembered he mentioned Maya Angelou, but I never heard of her before, so I decided to find out for myself who she was.

Before I went to bed the night before, I did more research on her. She had a rough life growing up, but she stood strong and didn’t let it define her. I came to the conclusion that she was a fascinating person all in all. I fell in love with her poem “Phenomenal Woman”. The poem, to me, meant that she caught everyone’s attention by her confidence. I wanted that. I wanted to be that strong and that confident in who I was. If that meant getting into shape, then so be it.

An overwhelming invincibility came over me as I laid in my bed the night before. I couldn’t sleep because I was too excited. I knew that I couldn’t change society’s thoughts on myself, but I could change my own and that’s exactly what I aimed to do.

When I arrived at the gym on the J. Elmore Middle School campus, I walked on stage to stand in the bleachers while my parents joined the other parents in the fold-up chairs that were set up in rows facing the stage. The only spot left on the bleachers was in the back by Emma. I didn’t want to take it because I’ve been trying to avoid her.

“Well, hello stranger,” Emma quietly greeted me. Cole Webb, standing below us, shushed her. Emma, the rebellious girl that she was, hissed at him and he faced forward immediately. “Your parents out there?” She asked me.

“Yeah,” I said effortlessly, I was hoping she could feel the cold shoulder I was giving her, so she would stop talking to me.

“Mine aren’t,” She said. I didn’t say anything even though a piece of me felt sorry for her that her parents never paid much attention to her. Maybe that’s why she does what she does. It’s kind of like a cry to get her parents’ attention. “Why haven’t you returned any of my calls?”

I was avoiding Emma because I was mad that she’d leave her crap in my bag, which later grabbed negative attention from Trevor. I was also upset that her tactics on being skinny didn’t work out for me, but I tried not thinking about that because I was starting over.

Mrs. Moore, my principal, walked onto the stage and led the eighth graders and their parents in the pledge of allegiance. Emma put her hand on her chest, still staring at me, anticipating an answer.

“Look, about your bag,” She whispered to me. “I meant to wake you, but I was in a rush to get home because my mom called—”

“Your mom called?” I asked.

Mrs. Moore told the parents to take their seats, and began announcing names into the mic. One by one, students walked up stage, accepted their eighth grade diploma, and shook hands with three elderly people in rental suits.