The Weird Kid
Sunday, September 14, 2008
The Brave Little Chub
When it was just thin Leon in his $200 jeans, I was joking about being the only fattie on the eastern seaboard. I don't even know what exactly the eastern seaboard encompasses; I may not have even been on it. But wherever I was, there were no other fat people.
In Washington DC, where me met up with Alison and her/our other friends, I stopped laughing.
It wasn't just that Alison had wended and willowed her way out of high-school plain and chubby, and now looked like Grace Kelly. And that Kara had added beautiful and stylish to her thinness. That Andra had lost twenty pounds and dressed exclusively in crazy boutique styles, and that Sara, the plump one, had my own personal perfect figure, curved and solid and healthy.
The night of the bridal party/dinner. When Alison said, "It's about eight blocks. We can totally walk it."
The worst part wasn't that I couldn't keep up. That they were laughing and talking and I started to fall behind the group, pace by pace. After two blocks every step hurt, hurt all over. My under-wire began to bite a rash into my skin, and the material in the thighs of my jeans were chafing thinner with every rubbing step.
The worst was when they all noticed, though I guess was waiting for them to. I'm not such a brave little solider, you see. So they noticed that I was behind them. Stopped, concerned. Pretended they liked walking slow, that they needed to rest, too. Kept an eye on me, made sure I was making it ok. Reminded me of the rare days in grade school when we all decided to be nice to the special-ed kid.
Then I was in pain, sweating in the pre-tropical storm heat, and trying not to cry. Under the weight of their pity, my own self-pity.
It didn't get better, that part.
In Washington DC, where me met up with Alison and her/our other friends, I stopped laughing.
It wasn't just that Alison had wended and willowed her way out of high-school plain and chubby, and now looked like Grace Kelly. And that Kara had added beautiful and stylish to her thinness. That Andra had lost twenty pounds and dressed exclusively in crazy boutique styles, and that Sara, the plump one, had my own personal perfect figure, curved and solid and healthy.
The night of the bridal party/dinner. When Alison said, "It's about eight blocks. We can totally walk it."
The worst part wasn't that I couldn't keep up. That they were laughing and talking and I started to fall behind the group, pace by pace. After two blocks every step hurt, hurt all over. My under-wire began to bite a rash into my skin, and the material in the thighs of my jeans were chafing thinner with every rubbing step.
The worst was when they all noticed, though I guess was waiting for them to. I'm not such a brave little solider, you see. So they noticed that I was behind them. Stopped, concerned. Pretended they liked walking slow, that they needed to rest, too. Kept an eye on me, made sure I was making it ok. Reminded me of the rare days in grade school when we all decided to be nice to the special-ed kid.
Then I was in pain, sweating in the pre-tropical storm heat, and trying not to cry. Under the weight of their pity, my own self-pity.
It didn't get better, that part.
posted by Imez at 7:38 AM
4 Comments:
Oh, sweet baby love, It just fucking hurts. What separates you from pitiful is infinity times forever; that and the fact that you were there- So many women would have stayed home and hid behind closed doors. You went, you always seem to--you are present and beautiful. Don't you forget it.
i know i can't say anything helpful. i know because i feel exactly the same way--as the only fat girl in town surrounded by friends who are thin, beautiful women. Every time I'm with them I wonder if they think of me as the token "fat girl." Like they take me with them so that they look better. Or it makes them feel better to be nice to a fat girl. I wonder if they're ever embarrassed by me. I wonder if they ever think that I'm gross and hygienically impaired. I wonder if "being skinny" would ever *really* fix it.
lu- I have hid before. I love your responses. It's like you're talking on a dedicated brain-line.
alyssa- I was going to say, "Oh no, I know they like me..." but fuck that. They probably do like me but I still feel everything you said, even if it is all in my head. You have a very pretty picture.
I stumbled upon your blog from somewhere else (Now I've forgotten where), and I'm just loving the way you write.
So much that you say sounds so much like me. Thank you for sharing yourself.
~sass
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