Chapter One:
Behind each face lies a truth. A hidden persona masked by the outward appearance. We hide ourselves so well from the world, never truly shining the way we were meant to. As we watch the eyes of strangers stare, lurk, judge us harshly with no words, frightened, we go into lock down. What do they see? It’s all about the audience. Waiting anxiously for a sign. Will the applaud? Or will they reject what they see, the accusations they form in their minds? Afraid, we hide ourselves, like a child hides behind it’s mother. But for some of us, this transaction is invisible to us. So much part of our daily routine that it becomes the norm for us. Maybe all this pretending has got our own minds fooled that we actually are this person we claim to be. Was this a mystery that would never be solved- the mystery of self image? Well here I was, starring it straight in the face, and I was about to find out.
What I felt at this moment:
Turbulence. Both from the airplane and inside my stomach. I ran my shaky hands up and down my thigh's as my eyes darted to the left, looking out the small window. I was hoping to find assurance in the clouds around me, that they were still the same no matter how different I felt. To my surprise, I saw lights. We were closer to the ground than I had thought... my time to mentally prepare was fading away with each mile we traveled. New York City. Sky scrapers just barely grazing the bottom of the plane’s wings, accented with the beautiful, vibrant colors of The City. Beautiful, just like everything else in the burrow of Manhattan. Me, in this beautiful city. Just me and my face that everyone adored. Labeled gorgeous. But who were they to judge me? To say that I was magazine material? Just a bunch of modeling agents, prying at my soul. But I needed this. I needed this job more than anything.
“Nothing is ugly
just because the world says so,” I remember Mama saying to me over and over again growing up as I came home from another day at school, distraught from the constant insults hurled at me because of my weight. “Especially you, Peaches, you’re the prettiest girl in all of Minnesota,” I’d heard everything, every insult in the book. From fatty to snowman to piggy. There wasn’t one insult I wasn’t familiar with. Mama would wrap her arms around me, making my tears dissipate into the soft wool of her hand-knit sweater, snug against her shoulder. “These days’ll pass,” she’d whisper in my ear. Now look at me. I’m a twig. I’ve got modeling agents all over me. My once chubby cheeks have faded away, leaving nothing but highly coveted, accentuated cheek bones. The flab that once lined my body- my stomach, legs, arms- now gone, exposing my perfect curvature, or so I was told. Suddenly I'm beautiful. But what has really changed about me? I never thought my weight, something so trivial, could impact the rest of my life. But look at me now, I was living it.
*Thump*. The wheels of the plane made contact with the runway, startling my thoughts. The man in the seat behind me must have been startled too, for his constant snoring had abruptly stopped. I breathed in, counted slowly to ten, then breathed out- a coping technique my yoga instructor had taught me. Yoga... who would’ve thought I would ever be doing yoga. If my friends could only see how I'm living now, they’d laugh. They’re all back in Minnesota, probably sitting at their desks, enduring school. My desk there, too, empty, among them.
“Miss, do you need help with your bags?” I heard a voice say as the pilot signaled that it was okay to take off our seat belts. I wasn’t expecting to talk to anyone on this flight, except for the flight attendant. I was flying alone, and the stranger danger factor was added stress on top of my already anxious mind. This was New York. Mama told me to never trust anyone. I looked down. He was wearing blue and white plaid Vans and dark wash jeans. My eyes wandered up a little further. Off-white baggy shirt, short, brown beard, deep green eyes. I was guessing he was about 35.
“Uh, no thanks, I got it,” I spat out. I looked back down, no eye contact was made. I could see he was still there so I quickly looked up, shot him a smile and began to gather my stuff back into my bag.
