I Was Chosen Because I Was A Size 2
Now my goal is to reach a decent size again, but for a completely different reason
It was 2006. Junior college. I was slim, petite, had on a spackle of makeup, and had just sat down in the library to rest a bit before waiting for the next bus to take me home. It had been a long evening, and after finishing my last class, I was not in the mood for conversation. Yet, a young, peanut butter-skinned man I vaguely knew sat next to me and began to talk. So I closed my fiction novel.
“You don’t talk much, huh?” he asked me.
“I do with close friends. In fact, the ones you met in the common area are who I talk with.”
“I know who one of them is. She’s trying to get me to date her sister.”
Slowly, it dawned on me who the young man was. I remembered one of my friends, an older woman, saying she was trying to get her family member a date for the prom with him.
“Ohh, ok. Sheena? Her sister?”
He leaned back casually, but his eyes were still on me, roving over me like a hungry wolf.
“Her sister will never be my type.”
I felt my heart drop. Oh no.
