Memoirs of an Outstanding* Teen

Chapter 58: I Hate Pictures

Soon, it was time for the matric farewell (prom). The other girls had their dresses at the tailors since June. I ordered my dress two weeks before the farewell from some random online company. I wasn't excited for it. I didn't look forward to it. I would have preferred to spend the evening consoling myself with some studying. I knew, when I got there, I would just be counting the minutes till it's all over.

I got to school that Friday evening, in my pink dress and my studded heels, my hair and make-up (for the first time) professionally done. I walked up to the other grade 12s, a couple of them began complimenting me.

"You look really nice, Nelu." Really? I'm not ugly and disgusting?

"Thank you!" and I meant it wholeheartedly.

I was planning to sit and watch everyone dance the whole evening, not join anything. I was just going to just scroll through my phone or something. Stay for the shortest amount of time and call for my dad as soon as I could.

As they were doing the family dance, one of the break-time girls took my hand and dragged me to the dance floor. "Oh what the heck!" I thought. I kicked my heels off and danced. It's always great when you don't expect to have fun, but you end up having fun. I didn't care that my dancing was awful, I just danced. I was happy. I had fun.

A few days later, the pictures had been processed, and we all got our disks. I was looking forward to seeing the pictures. They would have captured one of the few happy memories of 2014. I got home to my laptop, popped the disk in, and started clicking through my schoolmate's pictures to find mine. It didn't take me too long to get to them. And as soon as I did, my heart sank.

My face looked swollen, my stomach looked like I was at least 8 weeks pregnant, and those goddamn legs... I looked huge!

Shocked and disappointed. That's how I felt as I stared at my laptop screen. I had my hand under the laptop all the while. Then as the pain in my chest grew heavier and heavier, I flicked the laptop away, in a wave on uncontrolled anger, having it land on the edge of the desk, half way off. Then I dropped onto my folded arms, and for the umpteenth time, I cried.

"It might just be worth it in the end." I got back up, wiped the tears off, grabbed my math book, and found comfort in some trigonometry.