Am I Pretty Yet?
pity
Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels, the young girl thought to herself as she left the house in a hurry. Her mother had asked her if she wanted breakfast, though she quickly declined her offer. In fact, she was in a hurry because she refused to hear any questions her mother had for her.
She couldn’t let her mother know she had been skipping meals for the past two days.
The young girl had switched from those denim monstrosities most girls her age called “jeans” and slipped into a pair of non-hugging sweat pants.
She felt better that way.
After an agonizing eleven-minute-thirty-three-second walk to school, she tiredly made her way up the twenty-five-step staircase.
Despite her self-consciousness and self-loathing ways, she didn’t have such an uncomfortable life. Her parents were typically very supportive (as every parent should be) and she had friends. It's funny. People always assumed she had no friends because of her appearance. People tend to misjudge others based on their looks, but she came to terms with that a long time ago. She didn’t have any best friends (you know, the one’s that come over every day to gossip and raid your fridge), but she didn’t mind. She never let anyone invade her personal space, anyways- both physically and mentally.
For as long as she could remember, she was never satisfied with her appearance. Whether it were the pimples that came with being a teenager, or her limp and dry boring, brown hair, or the paleness of her skin, or more importantly, something that was always an issue- her weight. She wondered how beautiful some of the girls were at her school and wondered how they did it so effortlessly. So tan, so pretty, such long and luscious hair, so, so, so skinny.
The young teenager grimaced at the thought. Her face was nowhere near sweet and kind. She hated all stereotypes about fat people. And even worst, she hated the things people say to defend fat people. As if being fat isn’t offensive enough. “Oh, they’re funny!” “I hear they’re real jolly!” And then of course, her favorite, ”They’re like big teddy bears!”
She walked into class, sweat gathering at her temple from the strenuous walk up the stairs and instantaneously got an ear full from her math teacher, “Theadora… I see you are late once again.” he sighed and pursed his lips, studying her, “but I’ll let it slide. Seeing as you do particularly well in this class.”
Everyone pities the fat girl, she scoffed. It’s like a sickness. Everyone feels bad for me.
Even I feel bad for me.
She couldn’t let her mother know she had been skipping meals for the past two days.
The young girl had switched from those denim monstrosities most girls her age called “jeans” and slipped into a pair of non-hugging sweat pants.
She felt better that way.
After an agonizing eleven-minute-thirty-three-second walk to school, she tiredly made her way up the twenty-five-step staircase.
Despite her self-consciousness and self-loathing ways, she didn’t have such an uncomfortable life. Her parents were typically very supportive (as every parent should be) and she had friends. It's funny. People always assumed she had no friends because of her appearance. People tend to misjudge others based on their looks, but she came to terms with that a long time ago. She didn’t have any best friends (you know, the one’s that come over every day to gossip and raid your fridge), but she didn’t mind. She never let anyone invade her personal space, anyways- both physically and mentally.
For as long as she could remember, she was never satisfied with her appearance. Whether it were the pimples that came with being a teenager, or her limp and dry boring, brown hair, or the paleness of her skin, or more importantly, something that was always an issue- her weight. She wondered how beautiful some of the girls were at her school and wondered how they did it so effortlessly. So tan, so pretty, such long and luscious hair, so, so, so skinny.
The young teenager grimaced at the thought. Her face was nowhere near sweet and kind. She hated all stereotypes about fat people. And even worst, she hated the things people say to defend fat people. As if being fat isn’t offensive enough. “Oh, they’re funny!” “I hear they’re real jolly!” And then of course, her favorite, ”They’re like big teddy bears!”
She walked into class, sweat gathering at her temple from the strenuous walk up the stairs and instantaneously got an ear full from her math teacher, “Theadora… I see you are late once again.” he sighed and pursed his lips, studying her, “but I’ll let it slide. Seeing as you do particularly well in this class.”
Everyone pities the fat girl, she scoffed. It’s like a sickness. Everyone feels bad for me.
Even I feel bad for me.
♠ ♠ ♠
I started this story two years ago, and never got past the first chapter lol. I hope I do this story some justice because it does mean a whole lot to me.Please, sub./comm./recc. Much love!