Perfectly Thin, page 15
“I’m working from nine until two, so I can’t hang with you two,” Presley says from behind Emma as she walks over and stands beside us. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. What do you want to do tomorrow, other than buying a whole lot of new clothes?” Emma asks.
“Hey, this looks cute.” Presley looks me over. “Is this a dress?”
“Yeah, I had to wear it, because as I discovered this morning, nothing else fits.”
“’Cause you’ve lost so much weight,” Presley says.
“I wish,” I chuckle nervously. Emma and Presley look to each other as if they’re questioning my statement. “The washing machine has destroyed everything I own. Everything’s stretched out way too much.”
“Or you’ve lost a shit ton of weight,” Presley says again.
“Are you kidding?” I hold out my arm, and the fat under my upper arm jiggles. “If this flaps any more, I’ll be able to go on vacation wherever I want, and I won’t need a plane.” I hit the flabby part, and it wobbles.
“Everyone has those parts. Anyway, you look amazing, Jane. Ah...maze...ing,” Presley draws out.
“Hey, Jane,” I hear someone call.
I look around, and see Carson’s walking past, his eyes moving sleazily over my body. My face scrunches as I notice he’s checking me out. “Blech,” I heave, pretending to gag. “No chance in hell, buddy.” I give Carson the one-finger salute as I arch a brow.
One of his friends laughs, and Carson licks his lips and winks. Creep.
“You know, I can always give him another laxative or say...ten,” Presley says.
Crap, speaking of laxatives, I only have one left. I’ll have to buy some tomorrow while Emma and I are out.
“Nah, don’t even bother with him.” He’s seriously not worth our time or effort. She can give the laxatives to me though.
The bell sounds, and I feel a heaviness on my chest as we walk to class. Emma and Presley break off in differing directions, and I head to my class.
I’m walking to the cafeteria in my own headspace, when someone taps me on the shoulder. Surprisingly, I find India wanting to talk to me. “Yeah?” I ask, cautious because I know how truly evil she can be.
“I just wanna say, you’re looking real good.”
Wait, what? A compliment, from India? Really. “Um, thanks,” I say slowly.
“Now you’re not as fat as what you used to be, you can maybe even resemble a normal human.” She gives me a smile before leaving.
I’m not even sure what that was. Was it a compliment? Or an insult? I head into the cafeteria, and see Presley and Emma are already at our table. “Weirdest thing ever just happened.” I sit on the chair, still unclear on India’s motives.
“What?” Emma asks.
Presley grabs her phone and stands. “Mark’s calling.” She looks at the phone and frowns. “I hope he’s okay.” She walks away from us as she answers the phone.
“What happened?” Emma asks again.
I look over to Presley, trying to read her body language. She tucks some hair behind her ear, then looks down at her feet and smiles. Mark’s okay. I look back to Emma. “India stopped me as I was coming in here.”
“Yeah? What did she want?” Emma asks with a bitter note to her voice.
“She said, and I quote, now I’m not as fat as I used to be, I may even resemble a normal human.”
I stare at Emma, who crinkles her forehead, and turns her head so she can search for India. “What does that even mean?”
“First thing she said was that I’m looking good, then she went on to say that.” I wave my hand around. “I have no idea what she’s going on about. Is it a compliment, or an insult?”
“A back-handed compliment. She’s probably jealous of you because you’re looking better than her. Insecure bitch.”
“Well, she’s not looking very hard, because I haven’t lost that much weight. And, I’m still fat. And, I have so much more to go. And...”
“What?” Emma interrupts me. “Can’t you see how great you look? My God, Jane, you’re unbelievably perfect. And especially in what you’re wearing. Holy shit, girl. If I was into chicks, I’d be trying to get a slice of Jane, if you know what I mean?” Emma winks at me suggestively.
“A slice of Jane? Really?” My lips draw up into a small smile, as I shake my head at Emma.
Presley returns to the table, and her cheeks are really red, and she has a goofy smile on her face. “Oh, someone’s getting lucky tonight!” Emma teases.
“No, maybe. Okay, yes,” Presley replies. “Anyway, what was the weird thing you were talking about?” She opens her bag, and slides out a container. She opens the lid, and she has pasta with red sauce for lunch.
My stomach grumbles.
But the freakiest thing is, my stomach grumbles, but I’m not actually hungry. I take my water bottle out, and drink half of it.
“Do you want some, there’s heaps here?” Presley offers me some of her lunch, but all I can see is calories. And so many pounds stacking on even if I have one mouthful.
“Nah, you know I’m not actually hungry. I’m quite thirsty though.” I have some more of my water.
“Your loss. This is my grandmother’s recipe. So good. The sauce, yum.” Presley closes her eyes as she smacks her lips together. She can afford to eat all those carbs, she’s slim and perfect.
Me on the other hand, well, let’s face it, I’ve got a long way to go before I can be proud and happy of who I am. “I’m sure it’s delicious, but I’m good, thank you.”
Emma peers over her own lunch. “If you’re offering, I want some.”
“Here.” Presley slides the container over to Emma. Emma takes the fork and twists it to wrap spaghetti on it, then shoves it in her mouth. “Oh my God,” she says while chewing the spaghetti. “The sauce.” She wraps more around the fork, and shoves it in her mouth, not even having finished what she was chewing. She takes a tissue out of her bag, wipes the fork and pushes it back to Presley. “If I have any more, I won’t give it back. So good! Jane, you have to try it. Seriously, one of the best pasta sauces I’ve ever had.”
I shake my head, suddenly becoming incredibly nervous. “I’m good.”
“No, you have to try it. Just have a bit,” Emma tries to persuade me.
“Nah, it’s okay. I’m really not hungry.”
“Just a bit,” Emma tries again.
Pinching my lips together, I can feel my heartrate increasing. I want to scream at Emma and ask her if she’s trying to make me fatter than I already am, but I know Emma’s just really excited about how delicious the pasta is. I tilt my head to the side, and avoid her eyes, pretending to scratch behind my ear. “I’m good,” I say through a clenching jaw. I can feel the muscles in my arms tense, and become rigid.
“Just a bit.”
Get the hint, Emma. I don’t want any. I tap my fingers on the table, trying to distract myself from losing my cool with Emma. “Crap, I forgot. I’ve got a library book I need to return.” I stand with a little too much force, the chair screeching on the floor as I push back. “I’ll text ya later.” I smile at both Emma and Presley, and I get the hell out of there before I lose my shit with Emma and her persistence.
I feel terrible for lying to Emma and Presley, I really do. I head out to the back field, find the rocks I used before, and place a few in my backpack. I start walking the track as fast as I can.
The strain on my shoulders from the heaviness of all the rocks, reminds me of how this wouldn’t happen if I wasn’t a fat cow to begin with.
I deserve this punishment.
Actually, I deserve so much more.
“You haven’t bought a single thing! And this is supposed to be a day for you. You said yesterday you need some new clothes, so let’s go buy you some new clothes. Your parents have told me anything you want, you get,” Emma says as she happily bounces on the spot. Her hands are holding several environmentally-responsible bags from numerous stores where she’s bought things for herself.
“I don’t know,” I say, shrugging. Truth be told, I know I’m fat, and the last thing I want is for Emma to see exactly what size I am.
“Come on!” She starts walking backward toward a row of boutique stores. “Oh, look. Pretty.” She points to a little black dress on a mannequin the size of my thigh.
“That ain’t gonna fit, girl.” My eyes bulge at the ultra-trendy store she wants to take me in.
“Okay, maybe that’s not your style, but I’m sure you’ll find something you like in here.” She steps toward the door, and I plant my feet, shaking my head.
“I don’t think so.” I keep shaking my head. Has she not seen the size of me? That store isn’t for people like me. There’s not a single article of clothing I could fit into.
“Come on, don’t be so old and frumpy. Let’s just go look.”
“Honestly, Emma. Nothing in there is going to fit me. Not now, not ever.”
Emma turns her head, surprised. “I’ll make you a bet right now. I bet you’ll find loads of things in there that’ll fit perfectly, and maybe even be a bit big. Because, Jane,” She walks up to me, and with her full hands, grabs onto my hips and squeezes. “This is tiny, now.” I cringe, knowing she will have felt my rolls of fat.
“I wish,” I mumble as Emma turns, and walks ahead of me into the store.
The moment my feet are inside, the hair on my arms stands to attention. My stomach roils as an uncomfortable feeling washes over me. I want to leave and never come back in here. What was Emma thinking? This store is for a certain type of person, and that type is not me.
“What about this?” Emma holds up a nice, plain, fitted top with one bare shoulder. “I like it, I think you should try it on.”
“Ahh, no. It’s nice and all, but look at it, Emma. That’s made for skinny people.” Why isn’t she understanding?
“Hi,” says the lady who’s working in the store. “Can I help?”
“No, thanks.” I shake my head and try to back out before Emma can force me to try on something that obviously won’t fit, and will humiliate me even more. I look around, and notice there’s not one fat person in here, except for me.
A reverse beeping sound goes off in my head, like the one those huge trucks make when they’re backing into a space. All I can envisage is what I look like from behind.
“Yeah, my friend here is going to try this top on, with this skirt.” Emma forces the top in my hand, and I nearly die from the humiliation of her trying to get me to wear something that clearly won’t fit. “And this skirt.” My mouth falls open when she shoves a tiny black skirt into my hands along with the top.
I feel like she’s cornered me, and now I have to try it all on. Great. Let me be super humiliated on my damn birthday. Fatso, Jane goes shopping! Woo-fucking-hoo.
“Sure, the change rooms are in the back. You can go in, and I’ll be there in a moment to help.” The sales lady smiles. But I can see in her eyes, she knows what I know. These are too small for my fat ass.
“Thanks,” I say, my voice breaking while I struggle to hold back the tears of degradation.
I lower my head, and walk to where she pointed out the changing rooms are. I can’t believe Emma. This is mortifyingly embarrassing. I’m going to try these clothes on, and they’re not going to fit. I close the door, there’s a small bench where I sit and drop my head into my hands.
I can barely swallow back the lump in my throat. How demeaning. How belittling. Why do I have to be so damn fat?
I look at the one-shoulder top, and really do like it. If I was slim, I’d definitely wear it, because it’s really appealing. I turn the tag to look at the size, and feel my face redden with complete hatred for myself. Right, sure Emma, you think I’m a size ten? How insulting to me. Or maybe it’s funny? The joke is on Jane.
Yes, I’ve lost a tiny bit of weight, but there’s no way I’ve gone from a size sixteen to a size ten. Not to mention the bullshit of the last two weeks. I was trying for fourteen pounds, and the scales broke saying I’ve lost sixteen pounds. Ridiculous.
“Hey, how’s it looking?” Emma asks from the other side of the change-room door. “Oh, I’ve got a really nice dress for you too.”
I stand, and open the door. Emma startles as she steps back looking at me in the clothes I came in with. “I’m not going to try these on.”
“What? Why? Don’t you like them?”
“I love the top. Really love it. But let’s get real for a moment. In what lifetime do you think I’d fit into this. It’s a size ten, Emma. Ten! There’s no way I’ll fit into it.”
“Please, do me a favor, and try it on. I promise you, I think you’ll look magical.”
“Size ten, Emma!” I say louder while holding the top up and shoving it toward her. “This, won’t go into that.” I wave a hand over my torso, then thrust the top at her again.
“Please,” Emma softens her face, and smiles. “Just try it on.” She grabs hold of my hand, and clutches it tight. “Please. I promise you I would never pick something in a size that I don’t think would fit you.”
Her puppy dog eyes, and pleading work on me. “Fine. But I’m telling you right now, it won’t fit.” I take a step back, and close the door.
“Yay!” I hear her clapping her hands.
I strip off my t-shirt, another which has been destroyed by the dryer, and I grab the one-shoulder top Emma’s forcing me to try. I slide it over my head, and down to my hips.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I nearly balk at the reflection. “It doesn’t fit,” I yell. I want to rip it off and throw it to the ground, tramp all over it, and leave the room in tears.
“Let me look,” Emma yells.
Of course, I don’t do any of those things. Instead, I suck it up, open the door, and wait for Emma to burst into laughter because this is so tight, it’s stretching at the seams and about to explode with all my jiggly bits.
“Oh my God. Jane, you look awesome!” Emma shrills.
“What?” My mouth turns up, and I give Emma a side-eye glare. “I’m hideous, Em. It doesn’t fit. Look.” I turn to face the horrible excuse for a human reflecting in the mirror, and my eyes go straight to the massive roll hanging low. “This.” I grab hold of my stomach and wiggle it. “Is as big as the Grand Canyon. You can’t miss it.” I hold the arm that’s covered in the material up. “And this.” I grab onto the saggy skin wobbling beneath my arm. “I could make it to the other end of the country without taking an airplane.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself, Jane. If anything, this top is a bit too big. You could end up going down a size.”
I turn to look at Emma, furious that she can stand there and say these things to me. “Are you making fun of me?” I ask.
“What? No, look.” She grabs the hem of the top, and slides her hands under it. “See, I can put both my hands under your top, and make fists with them, and the top still has room. In all honesty, Jane, I think it’s too big.”
In the reflection of the mirror, my chin quivers and I’m barely holding on to my composure. “Can we please go to Target, so I can buy clothes that actually fit?” I beg.
“Jane.” Emma steps back, her eyes sympathetically staring at me. “This doesn’t fit, because it’s too big.”
I shake my head and purse my lips together. She’s lying, and I don’t know why.
I take a deep breath to calm my frantic mind, and plaster on a fake smile. “I don’t like it. It doesn’t suit me. Can we please go to Target?”
Emma’s eyes divert, while she frowns. “Sure,” she says slowly, as if she’s confused. “I’ll um, let you get changed.” She steps out of the change room, and as she walks away, I see her shaking her head and mumbling something.
Closing the door, I take off the beautiful top that highlighted every single bump and lump on my body, and hang it back on the hanger. For one miniscule moment, I feel hopeful that one day I’ll be able to wear something as gorgeous as that top, and know I look good.
Yeah, right. Being fat means I’ll never look good again.
Great.
Once changed, I open the door, and go to find the sales lady. “These didn’t fit, thank you,” I say as I hand them back to her.
“We’ve got smaller sizes.”
I chuckle to myself. Smaller sizes. “They didn’t suit me,” I try again, hoping she takes the hint and all I want to do is find Emma and get out of here. I look around the store, and can’t see Emma anywhere.
“Your friend left.”
“What?” I search the store in case they’re playing a trick on me. “Where?”
“She walked outside.”
I run out, and see Emma sitting on a bench seat opposite the store. She’s scrolling through her phone, and I can’t actually see her face. Crap, I hope I haven’t hurt her feelings. “Hey,” I say as I sit beside her. Her shoulders rise up before she lifts her head to look at me. I know I’m frustrating her, and I know she’s trying to help, but we also have to be real. “Clothes for fat people aren’t as nice and sexy as they are for slim people.”
“But you’re not fat, Jane. You never were.” She stands and sighs with a wave of her hand. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s go to Target where you can buy what you want.”
I was never fat? Seriously? Why can’t she admit I was, and am a giant piece of lard? “You know I’m fat, right?”
She turns and nods her head. “If that’s what you tell yourself, obviously, I can’t change your mind.” She shrugs. “Anyway, what do you want for lunch? Cause I’m hungry, and it’s nearly two o’clock. We haven’t eaten a thing.”
Here we go again. It’s always about food. Why does food have to be such a big deal. “I had a huge breakfast, so I’m not really hungry. I’ll grab a soda though if you want to eat something.”
Emma looks at her phone. “Presley finishes soon. Um, should I have something to eat now?” I watch as she decides if she wants to eat. “I’ll wait for Presley.” She taps her finger to her chin. “Nah, I’ll grab something now.” She stops mid-walk. “Nah, I’ll wait.”
“When you’re done with your internal staff meeting, let me know what we’re doing,” I say as I laugh, relieved Emma’s back to her normal self.
