Fat Girl

Monica isn’t the only one.

Living in America, a place bred on fast food and cocaine, she isn’t the only one sporting that pudgy stomach and thunder thighs. She isn't the only one sneaking midnight snacks and that extra piece of pizza after dinner. Of course not, and yet, she feels so alone.

Her weight doesn’t define her, but somehow, it does. Somehow, that’s the first thing everyone notices, the thing that everyone’s attention averts to the moment they see her.

Monica is Monica. And Monica is fat.

She can name many other girls just like her.

An example that her mind wanders too often, out of jealousy or curiosity she'll never know, would be Martina Fresco. Same grade, two of the same classes, same weight.

Yet so different.

Because Martina's liked by many, her friend count enormous, even including Chase and Bianca. While Monica's is quite low, too low, laughable.

Fat Girl is quite laughable in all.

Maybe it’s because she has really big boobs, and while Monica has some of her own, it was nothing compared to her.

Maybe it’s because her parents have a lot of money to buy her nice things, to make her look better, so more people liked her.

Maybe it’s because she has a sister two years older that everyone really likes.

Or maybe it’s just because she’s confident, she’s loud, she’s proud to be who she is.

Monica’s not proud of who she is. They eat off that, like vultures, tearing apart at her insecurities as if they were her flesh.

Technically, they were the same, but somehow Martina was simply chubby, while Monica was simply fat.