over to Sarah. She turns and takes one look at me, and sees right away that I'm upset. I'm so grateful that instead of asking what's wrong, she puts an arm around me and leads me out of the store. She keeps her arm around me as my shoulders quake and I fight back the tears.
"They wouldn't take it back," I tell her.
"Didn't you have the receipt?"
"It was on sale," I lie. "She can't take it back."
"Maybe if you call corporate?" she suggests.
"My mom would find out."
She's silent. She knows that would start another of my mom’s enforced diets.
We walk through the mall and to the parking lot, and climb back into her car. It groans under my weight as I sit down, and I reach my breaking point. I start to cry. Sarah starts the car, and we head home.
I hate myself more than ever. There’s no way left to hide the fact that I’m huge and I’m hideous. None of my old tricks are working anymore. I’m just too fat.
By the time we reach my house, I've got my tears under control. "Thank you for going to the mall with me," I say.
"Of course." She looks at me. "Are you going to be okay?"
I nod without thinking about it. I don't want her worried about me. "I just wish I still fit in the dress."
She perks up. "Hey, Kathy! You totally can. You've got a week. We can go on a diet
together
!" She's all excited like it's the best idea ever.
I don't want to break her enthusiasm. She really doesn't understand how much bigger I am than her, and I don't want to say anything that might break that ignorance.
She beams. "I'll get into the red skirt, and you'll fit back into your cute beach dress. How does that sound? We've got a week."
I force a smile. "Okay."
"You'll really try this time?" she asks. "No cheating?"
"No cheating!" I say as cheerfully as a person in a commercial. I sound completely fake to my own ears, but Sarah doesn't notice.
There’s no way I can do this. She doesn’t even know how much weight I’ve gained since I bought that dress.
To fit in it again, I’d have to lose forty-three pounds.
“Do you promise?” she asks.
I nod. “I promise.” What else can I say?
She does a little dance in the driver's seat, and I sit with my smile so tight my jaw is hurting.
"Okay," she says, returning to reality. "One last thing. Close your eyes."
I look at her, and she groans.
"Kathy! Close your eyes. And no peeking!"
I close my eyes and wait patiently with my arms folded across my stomach as I hear Sarah bend back and rummage through some papers in the back seat. She finds what she is looking for, and returns to the front. Then I hear the flick of a lighter. My eyebrows go up, and Sarah chides again about "No peeking," and I wait some more.
A moment later, Sarah says, "Okay. Open your eyes."
I do, and held out before me is a homemade cupcake with neon blue frosting. A pink candle is lit in the center.
"Happy Birthday!" Sarah screams. "I know you're sixteen and not one," she says, gesturing to the flickering candle, "but it's a
cupcake
. There’s only so much room."
I laugh, utterly surprised, and she starts to sing "Happy Birthday To You." I've been so stressed about returning the dress that I completely forgot about my birthday. No one else has remembered so far today either. Until now.
"Oh, Sarah!" I cry—and I mean, really cry. The tears are back, and I lean over and squeeze Sarah's body around the middle in gratitude. She stops singing. I can feel her gasping for breath, and I let go. I reach out for the cupcake and stop. She sees my hesitation, and her expression softens.
"One cupcake won't make a difference," she says. "Besides, it's your birthday. The diet can start tomorrow."
I smile, so grateful to have a friend like Sarah. I blink back the tears, and reach out for the cupcake again.
She pulls it back. "Wait!" she says. "You have to make a wish first."
I raise an eyebrow, and she giggles. I don’t want a wish. I want to eat the cupcake.
"It's tradition!" she insists.
I relent and drop my
"They wouldn't take it back," I tell her.
"Didn't you have the receipt?"
"It was on sale," I lie. "She can't take it back."
"Maybe if you call corporate?" she suggests.
"My mom would find out."
She's silent. She knows that would start another of my mom’s enforced diets.
We walk through the mall and to the parking lot, and climb back into her car. It groans under my weight as I sit down, and I reach my breaking point. I start to cry. Sarah starts the car, and we head home.
I hate myself more than ever. There’s no way left to hide the fact that I’m huge and I’m hideous. None of my old tricks are working anymore. I’m just too fat.
By the time we reach my house, I've got my tears under control. "Thank you for going to the mall with me," I say.
"Of course." She looks at me. "Are you going to be okay?"
I nod without thinking about it. I don't want her worried about me. "I just wish I still fit in the dress."
She perks up. "Hey, Kathy! You totally can. You've got a week. We can go on a diet
together
!" She's all excited like it's the best idea ever.
I don't want to break her enthusiasm. She really doesn't understand how much bigger I am than her, and I don't want to say anything that might break that ignorance.
She beams. "I'll get into the red skirt, and you'll fit back into your cute beach dress. How does that sound? We've got a week."
I force a smile. "Okay."
"You'll really try this time?" she asks. "No cheating?"
"No cheating!" I say as cheerfully as a person in a commercial. I sound completely fake to my own ears, but Sarah doesn't notice.
There’s no way I can do this. She doesn’t even know how much weight I’ve gained since I bought that dress.
To fit in it again, I’d have to lose forty-three pounds.
“Do you promise?” she asks.
I nod. “I promise.” What else can I say?
She does a little dance in the driver's seat, and I sit with my smile so tight my jaw is hurting.
"Okay," she says, returning to reality. "One last thing. Close your eyes."
I look at her, and she groans.
"Kathy! Close your eyes. And no peeking!"
I close my eyes and wait patiently with my arms folded across my stomach as I hear Sarah bend back and rummage through some papers in the back seat. She finds what she is looking for, and returns to the front. Then I hear the flick of a lighter. My eyebrows go up, and Sarah chides again about "No peeking," and I wait some more.
A moment later, Sarah says, "Okay. Open your eyes."
I do, and held out before me is a homemade cupcake with neon blue frosting. A pink candle is lit in the center.
"Happy Birthday!" Sarah screams. "I know you're sixteen and not one," she says, gesturing to the flickering candle, "but it's a
cupcake
. There’s only so much room."
I laugh, utterly surprised, and she starts to sing "Happy Birthday To You." I've been so stressed about returning the dress that I completely forgot about my birthday. No one else has remembered so far today either. Until now.
"Oh, Sarah!" I cry—and I mean, really cry. The tears are back, and I lean over and squeeze Sarah's body around the middle in gratitude. She stops singing. I can feel her gasping for breath, and I let go. I reach out for the cupcake and stop. She sees my hesitation, and her expression softens.
"One cupcake won't make a difference," she says. "Besides, it's your birthday. The diet can start tomorrow."
I smile, so grateful to have a friend like Sarah. I blink back the tears, and reach out for the cupcake again.
She pulls it back. "Wait!" she says. "You have to make a wish first."
I raise an eyebrow, and she giggles. I don’t want a wish. I want to eat the cupcake.
"It's tradition!" she insists.
I relent and drop my
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