Skinny • Book 1 In The Reality Series

Katy

This is hilarious X,D

She’s so fat!

Did no one tell this girl the bakery called. They want their rolls back.

If her IQ was as high as her weight she’d be a genius :P

Ladies and gentlemen, this is the reason why double doors exist.

You guys, we should stop insulting her….She has enough on her plate already. :,D

At least it didn’t hurt when she fell,  she had 47 layers of fat to land on.

I know where you live ;) The closest McDonalds

I want to feel bad but she’s so fat it’s gross.

Is it wrong that I find this hilarious?

Feeling a tear roll down my cheek and splash on my chest, sliding beneath my shirt and out of sight, I stared at the video paused on the ancient, clunky computer in the room which had at one time been my Dad’s office, but was now filled with Mom’s porcelain tea set and teddy bear collections.

Wiping my eyes on the back of my hand I hit refresh on the top of the page and watched as the views on the video increased by a few thousand.

I felt sick.

People all over the world were watching me have my face thrust into a puddle. It wasn’t just the jerks at school saying cruel things anymore, heck it wasn’t even random people throughout town, it was strangers, in foreign lands, watching me, laughing, telling me what I already knew.

I’d waited, for hours, scrolling through thousands of comments waiting for one; one person to defend me, pity me, stick up for me, voice some word of concern, no matter how minute, but there had been none. Not that I’d seen away.

Hearing the door to the office creak open behind me, I hastily opened another tab, hiding the video and swiveled in the cigarette smoke saturated, leather office chair to find Sam looking back at me.

His hair sticking every which way from his nap and his diaper sagging somewhat pathetically, he walked over to me, one foot wearing a sock, the other bare.

Hastily wiping beneath my eyes I forced a smile.

“Hi.” I greeted picking him up and setting him in my lap, my eyes instinctively wandering to the creases and rolls of flesh which formed across his stomach as he sat, “Did you have a good nap?”

Spitting out his pacifier and letting it fall to the floor, he nodded.

“Do you want to go outside and play or something?” I questioned.

Shaking his head he pointed to the door, “I wanna snack.”

“You just had a snack before your nap silly.”

“I want another one.”

“Why don’t you wait until dinner?”

“No. Snack.”

“No.”

“Yes, please?”

“Sam….No.”

Moving him off of my lap I ran my hands down my face.

Frowning, he began bouncing up and down in place, his face growing steadily more and more red as the impending tantrum brewing came to a boil.

“I wanna snack!” he yelled.

“No.”

“Yes!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Reaching out, he slapped my hand. It didn’t hurt. It wasn’t hard, but it was enough, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back, or in my case, the elephant’s back.

“No!” I shouted rising to my feet, “You can’t have a snack! You’re fat! Do you not get that? You just sit there, and shovel food in all day! Do you know what’s going to happen to you? No one is going to like you! You’re going to be a loser all because you wouldn’t shut up about cramming your fat little chipmunk cheeks full of Twinkies! Shut up! Just shut up!”

As soon as the words left my lips I regretted them. Raising a hand up to cover my mouth I looked down at Sam who was looking up  at me, a foreign expression on his face, hurt.

He was three.

The only hurt a three year old should know is falling off of their tricycle and scraping their knee. Their chin shouldn’t wrinkle as they fight back the tears that fill their eyes as they stare in horror seeing the world for the first time in a new light, in its true light. Three year olds should worry about Dora getting passed the troll bridge, not their eight, not being yelled at, not that they are wrong for doing the thing all creatures do on instinct, eat.

Looking as if he’d been stung by a bee he backed away from me slowly before tripping over a stray teddy bear and falling onto his backside.

The tears fell then, rolling down his cheeks in rapid succession as gasping, broken hearted wails left his mouth.

“Sammy.” I whispered crouching down infront of him, “I’m sorry.”

His eyes widening with terror he scrambled to his feet and ran out of the room, leaving me alone.

Hating myself even more then I had before which I didn’t know was possible, I hastily rose to my feet and leaving the room, ignored my Mom’s angry shouts as I walked through the front door, slamming it closed behind me.

I didn’t stop as Ashton pulled into the driveway, asking where I was going, and why I was crying, and when I would be back. I didn’t stop as I turned out of my small neighborhood and onto the uneven sidewalk of the main road. I didn’t stop when insults were hurled out car windows, or when a picturesque family on a picnic watched as their son bounced grapes off of as I passed.

I didn’t know where I was going at first, guided by my subconscious past the Burger Hut where I worked, past the building where I Toby the therapist dwelt. Past the Dairy Queen, school, the line of shops where well dressed couples were walking to and from expensive restaurants, under the small two lane overpass, passed the empty skate park to the edge of town and  line of train tracks which marked it.

It wasn’t a conscious decision, and it was. I hadn’t known where I was going, but somewhere deep down I had. My mind reeling I sat down on the wooden boards between the two seemingly endless metal rails. Getting comfortable I closed my eyes waiting for the escape deep down I think I’d known I wanted but hadn’t known until recently I needed, which with smoke, clattering wheels and billowing whistles, the locomotive would bring.