Project Fat Suit

Eight: The Plot Thickens

Chapter Eight: The Plot Thickens

“Why do you have a zipper attached to your back?” Holly asked bewilderingly, looking back and forth from my face to the mirror with her mouth agape.

All I could do was stare at her with a horrified expression on my face.

And apparently, all she could do was stare at my back with the same expression. After about two minutes, she looked at my face.

“Well?” she demanded still shocked at the metal contraption on my back.

“I—uhm—erm ,” I intelligently muttered as I backed up into a corner of the changing stall as if I could make her forget about the whole thing by not letting her see it.

“Turn around,” she ordered, not in a stern way, but rather gently.

I shook my head at her, still at a loss for words. This cannot keep happening to me. It was only November and two people have already found out.

“Serena, I won’t judge you or freak out,” Holly promised while placing what I assumed was a comforting hand on my shoulder. It was anything but comforting. If anything, it made me press myself further into the corner.

“Can you please leave me alone for a second?” I asked so softly that even I could barely hear myself.

Nevertheless, she still seemed to understand, nodded, and left the changing room, closing the door after her with an unreadable expression upon her face.

I let out an exasperated breath and slumped down onto the floor, not really caring that I could possibly damage a fifty dollar dress.

While running my fingers through my hair, I made a disgusted face at my reflection. My honey-brown hair was sticking to my forehead due to sweat caused by both anxiety and the fact that I was wearing clothes over a fat suit over a tank and basketball shorts. My dark green-eyes, almost brown, were contorted from frustration and my corners of my lips were tugged down. Creases, mainly in my forehead invaded my pale face, making me appear older.

What should I do?

I could lie or maybe ditch her here and choose to never talk to her again, denying everything she saw every time she chose to talk to me. She was the only person who has been genuinely nice to ‘school Serena’.

I gave myself one last glance in the mirror before sighing. Slowly I took off my fat suit and shoved it into the corner.

I quickly opened the changing room’s door and yanked Holly into the room with me by her wrist.

“This is the real me,” I said as soon as the door was closed again.

Holly stared at me from head to toe with her big, brown. “You mean you’re not really fat?” she managed to say even while gaping.

I shook my head, not wanting to speak. Her gaze was becoming very unnerving. “I’m sorry for lying to you,” I muttered quietly, not daring to make eye contact with her.

“I’m—I’m sure you have a good reason,” Holly stuttered, still in a daze, as she finally stopped staring at me.

“Yeah,” I confirmed pathetically.

“Well,” Holly cleared her throat and continued, “Let’s go pay.” She gave me a bright smile, seemingly not affected by this whole ordeal whatsoever, and walked out of the changing room with a slight skip in her step.

I looked after her in amazement. There’s something off about her, but it was refreshing, nonetheless.

I quickly scrambled to put my suit back on and dashed to where Holly was standing, still happy as ever.