“Under there! It’s back there,” Bryan pointed to the small piece of ground carved out underneath the portables.
“Here?” A nod from Bryan led the after-school counselor’s hand underneath the building and into the dried rocky earth. From there he pulled out a box of candy bars, twenty-nine in all, with white and gold wrappers. One had gone missing.
“Did you take these?” He stared at me while I looked on stunned that there had even been a box of bars under there.
I nodded no and in a fit of pure confusion looked back and forth, back and forth, from Bryan back to the box. He was smiling.
“It was him! It was him!” I screamed. “Look, he’s smiling, he thinks it’s funny!”
“Who would believe a little fatty like you?” He giggled.
And I fell in my little black skorts and cried on the asphalt next to the portable and skinned my knee.
This was neither the beginning, nor the end of my disputes with the fifth grade bully and later his little sister Yvette, but it was the first time I really remember being a fatty. I had wished then that I could have stolen the candy bars because all I wanted was force the long smooth pieces of chocolate down his pale throat and watch him choke.
That’s going to be the beginning of one of my chapters, because my weight has been an overwhelming factor in the way I’ve lived my life. Today, as everyday when I wake up, I was reminded that if only I could scoop out, like tallow, the viscous fat that hides who I really am then I could be a better person.
I was reminded that every other girl has much more to offer than me.
I can’t recall a time when I wasn’t completely overwhelmed by how underwhelmed people are in my presence. Of course, I have been recently reminded of both my lacking and my overabundance and this awareness has caused me to feel the need to go back to the gym, which is in essence a healthy thing. It’s healthy except for that I haven’t been much in the way of eating while going and so am fishtailing into some empty,lethargic, grumpy fool. I can feel that my body is hungry, but my soul doesn’t want me to eat things and when I do it is angry.
I got my hair done, bought more makeup, some contacts in hopes that these small things could make the beauty that I want to be. It is not working. Not a surprise, but at least I don’t have split ends.