Web Store

PAB Abortion Support Hotline 205-386-0046

Monday, March 11, 2013

Is She the One Who is Crazy?


A little Creative Writing

            I can’t believe that I finally found the perfect jeans.  Now for most people my age this apparently has to do with what brand of jeans they are buying, but no not me I have trouble finding anything other than “Mom Jeans” in my size.  I get down about this from time to time; my friends just don’t get it.  They are all small and a lot smaller than me.  My size has been a source of stress for my mother since I hit the 5th grade, and truthfully I don’t give a shit.
            
            I asked my doctor about my weight and he said I’m “fluffy” whatever the hell that means.  I’m on the high end of a normal BMI, which is supposed to be healthy.  My boyfriend is rather fond of my body; I’m cool with it, why do my friends and family have such a problem?  Is a size fourteen, 17 year old girl really the biggest concern they all have?
            
            Okay yeah, the swimsuit over there is adorable, but even if I could fit into it I don’t think that two triangles over my boobs and a string up my ass will improve the quality of time I spend in the river. I’m okay with me, and for this people think I am crazy.  I remember in 6th grade I was praised for losing 5 pounds I mean it was a big deal and how did I do it massive amounts of ex-lax….. It was awful I couldn’t go anywhere sure my clothes were a little loser, but hell I couldn’t leave the house.  I don’t get how other girls can keep up that regimen of no food and ass loads of ex-laxx.  I’m just not programmed to care about my size the way my friends are.

            Okay and into the dressing room with the jeans size 14, cute bootcut, light colored perfect.  Try them on and then to get the hell out of this store.  Department stores just creep me the fuck out.  It is like the entire goal is to convince you that 1.  You look awful and 2. Buying their crap will fix it.  Even the dressing room is set up like a walk down a row a prison cells.  The mirrors are inevitably behind a chair.  I guess other people can’t tell if they like something unless someone is in the dressing room to tell them how they look or maybe they are trying on those weird things like my Grandmother wears.  These devices used to “slim you” they tried to shove me into on for prom last year, and all I have to say is FUCK THAT.  I’ll buy clothes that fit thank you very much.

            I mean I want to have sex from time to time okay, I know, I know I should be ashamed of that too, but geeeze, I’m just not.  I mean I’m a fat slut, okay fine, what’s that problem with that?  Honestly it’s not like I’m sleeping with your boyfriend, just mine.  Why do you care if I wait til marriage?  I don’t know that I want to marry Derrik, but I damn sure enjoy sex with him.  Okay enough getting side tracked.  I have to try on these jeans.

            God Damnit, why is it they blow up jeans to a size 14 and don’t realize I need more room in the ass than a person who wears a size 5?  Who the hell designs this shit?  Sure they button, but they look awful, and what the fuck? I am not wearing jeans in public that only come up one inch over my lady area.  Okay so no new jeans.

            These were my thoughts this afternoon when my mom gave me 100.00 dollars and told me I could keep the change if I would buy a new pair of jeans.  I have 6 pairs of jeans, but I have been abusive to them in all fairness to my mom.  She keeps telling me if I get to a size 12 that it will be so much easier for me to find jeans and the chances of me getting to a 12 are slim to none.  I suppose I’m the reason for that.  I hate dieting and unless have more motivation than to get into a smaller pair of jeans I’m not doing it.

            Earlier today Jessi and Kayla both offered to “help” me, but they are convinced that I should dress like them and in truth I don’t like the way they dress it looks like a hell of a lot of work.  I wake up throw on jeans and a t-shirt put my hair in a pony tail and go on about the business of climbing trees, riding my 4-wheeler, shooting my gun, or any number of things people think I should have grown out of by now.  I don’t know why I have to give up my tom-boy hobbies to like boys, but this is apparently a rule that I break to everyone’s dismay. 

            I like taking a book and Beauty (my dog) to the creek behind the house.  I have good grades. I don’t drink any more than anyone else my age, and over all I’m a good kid, but my mother loses sleep over my size.  Derrik, says he’d leave me if I lost any weight. Apparently being a litter heavier makes sex play a bit more fun.  Not to say we get too kinky, but we have very good sex. I don’t know if it’s my size or that I believe god has better things to do than worry about my sex life, but my other friends who have done the do, don’t have anything good to say about it.  I wanted to see what sex was about, and Derrik after more than a year of fooling around was more than happy to oblige.  Mom is terrified that if a skinny girl gives him a second look, he’s going to leave me.
 
            If he leaves me for a skinny girl, I figure he’ll be pretty easy to replace his self.  More than one of the guys at school have expressed more than a little interest in me.  Not that I’m interested in them.  They are all dumb.  Dumb gets on more nerves more than fleas on a dog get on the dog’s nerves.  Derrik is smart, he understands algebra, isn’t that crazy?  Me, I’m fascinated by biology.  I have seen the coolest things in the woods behind the house.  Wild Turkeys and once I even saw a hell-bender.  Some people say they are extinct, but apparently this one didn’t get the memo.   Derrik loves that I believe in evolution. I read about that in the science books.  They don’t teach it, but I believe it.  If you read it, it makes sense.  I figure god can create the earth any way he damn well please,s and evolution makes more sense than some rib woman. 

            Derrik is the only person I’ve told this, and he thinks I’m playing with fire and brimstone, but if the road to hell is paved with sex in the woods, I suppose he is along for the ride.  I mean think about it, why would god make every animal have to have sex, but only punish humans?  It does not make sense at all, but geeze, if I even hint that I think about this to anyone I’m in trouble, and the next thing you know I’ve been drug down the aisle at church for yet another exorcism for the demons inside me.  It is brother Ramsey’s theory that a demon is responsible for my weight.  Yep that’s right, my weight is a concern of God too……..Weight, size, is that really all I’m worth?  If it weren’t for Derrik….  I think I would believe that.

No comments:

Post a Comment