Diary of a Fat Black Girl

Hi guys! This is my first story on Wattpad. It's quite short - it's about the struggles of an insecure teenaged girl. This is not real! Nana :)

 

21st February:

Dear Diary,

My name is Ashley Kufuor. My cousin bought this diary for me last week on our birthday.  My cousin is called Natalie Kufuor. She is one year older than me. She thinks that she understands all that I go through but she doesn’t. She said she went through it all but I really doubt it though I can’t be sure. Before last week, I hadn’t spoken to her for four years. When it came up to our birthday, she gave me this diary and told me to write anything I don’t want to speak about in here. She had written some stories about her life (with a lot of fiction in it) and she said it helped take her stress away. I hope it works for me...

As I was saying, my name is Ashley and I am 14 years old. I am fat and I hate my body. I wish I was slim like the rest of my friends but it just isn’t happening. I tried to stop eating and I ended up making myself very ill. That was three years ago. I don’t know what’s wrong with me; I just eat and I never seem to get full. I hate myself sometimes because even though I am full, I eat anyway because I’m bored. Why am I fat? Everyone knows it as well. I see the way people look at me on the street and the way my friends and family look at me; especially my family. Oh, dinner’s ready now. So it continues...

23rd February 2011:

I went out with my friends today. We went window shopping and I thought it would be great... big mistake! I ended up walking around looking at things I could never fit into in a million years. Why does it seem like all the stylish clothes were made for thin people? I really envy my friends sometimes. I always look like the odd one out when I walk around with them. They’re all really pretty, stylish and thin. I’m ugly, fat and I have no fashion sense. Even if I did, nothing looks good on me; I always look plain and boring. Today was a very bad day.

I’m slowly getting more and more depressed but this is helping a bit. Natalie was right; writing in a diary takes away a lot of the stress. I wish it could take the pain. Take away the memories of the past when nobody wanted to be friends with me and everyone made fun of me because I was different. Take away the tears I cried in the night when everyone else was asleep and take away the pain from my heart. There’s so much pain there. I want to be free. I want to be accepted. I want to be pretty. I want to be thin.

But it won’t happen just because I want it to though, will it?