I knew they were talking about me. I could tell by the way her eyes kept glancing over the aisle towards me, I could see his snickering face look up at me and he laughed behind a hand. At first, I didn't know what they were saying, maybe it wasn't really about me. Maybe my shoes looked weird, maybe I had some pen on my face. I tried to ignore it and looked down at my biology study guide.
Soon though the painfully stabbing words hit me and he whispered loudly to her, "You know she would be pretty if she was skinnier." Responding to his words she tried to subtly size me up awkwardly turning her head to me. I could feel my forehead get hot, and I knew I probably looked like a tomato. Skinnier. The word seemed to hit right into my heart, slowly slicing at my already patch worked self - esteem.
Maybe they aren't talking about you, I tried to reassure myself. But then, "Who's that?" he said to the boy in front of him. "Who's who?" the boy asked. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him point at me. "The chubby one, across the aisle from me," is what he described me as. "Oh her, that's Annie." Yup, it was me. The chubby one, the one that would be prettier if she were skinnier. Cool. Fantastic actually. After all these years of nice friends, at least I knew now.
The girl looked over at me, "I wonder what it feels like being fat..." Ouch. How about you smack me with a tree trunk? The boy laughed, "Ask her." Maybe you could just peel off all my skin instead. She laughed too, then suddenly silenced, "Oh my gosh she can probably hear us." Yeah you're right. I can hear every single word you're saying, but I'll just pretend I don't to save you heartless people from embarrassment.
I could feel my throat closing up, and my heart rate increased. I felt close to throwing up, tears began to fill my eyes. Who cares Annie? So what? I mean why should it matter? You don't care. Yeah, I care. I care WAY too much. I care so much that I let it decide the kind of person I am, how I act, what I eat, how much I eat, everything. I let other people's opinions control me.
"Maybe we should apologize," she says and her voice sounds nervous. Oh please don't, save me from even more humiliation, just don't. "Why should we say sorry for her being fat?" he replies. Oh gosh, I bite my lip and my body goes numb. I wonder how they would feel if they were my position, I wonder if they realize how much it hurts. How it forms a giant pit in my stomach, how it makes me want to give up and die. I wonder how they would feel if they realized that I went to therapy for 4 months because other people at my Jr. High would say the same things, and just when I thought I had gotten over it, of course it had to happen again...
When the bell rings, I'm the last person to walk out of the classroom. Slowly I make my way downstairs, I've never been so self conscious in my entire life as I was right then. "Hey!" Juice says to me. I want to tell her so badly, I want to just cry and tell her how badly I hurt. I know I can trust her, I know she would be so loving, but I don't want to cry right there. So I don't say anything, I hold it in. And I wish I had said something I wish I would've asked for a hug, or anything, just to mend my heart a little.
I'm going to go listen to the new Taylor Swift album now and maybe cry a little more. Ugh.
My hope in life is that nobody will ever have to feel like this ever.
No comments:
Post a Comment