So let's get this straight, my name is Callie and I really hate my real name. My parents really couldn't have picked a worse name so you don't get to know what it is. Tough I guess, just like life. I mean it's not that big of a deal but I don't care. I also hate my body. Wow, a real shocker right? I know a 17 year old girl has body issues. I guess that's what happens when society pushes a certain image on young impressionable girls. My mom always tells me that I just need to workout and eat healthier. Do people not realize how hard that is? It's impossible especially when you live in a world where ice cream and Oreos exists. And working out? Really? People act like that's so easy too. I can't drive yet because I haven't taken my driving test so I can't exactly take myself to the gym. Plus it's a $20 fee a month to workout. Um, I don't have a job and I'm not wasting money on it. I guess I could workout at home but I'm lazier than a sloth. Seriously my nickname in middle school was sloth along with a variety of many other crude names to make fun of the way I look. Anyway enough of self pity, I'm getting tired of it.
I hear my mother yell my name. See the difference between my mother and me is that she is literally an athlete. Like a hardcore sprinter, it's insane. She almost made it to the Olympics twice before she had me. She still holds the school record at my high school for the 100-meter dash. Yes, we are that kind of family who grows up in the same neighborhood and then raises a family in the same neighborhood when they can. But I guess her real job is physical therapy and she loves it….sometimes. She always rants about the old people who can barely hear and see. Its kinda funny but I feel bad sometimes. I guess I'm a caring person some days. Oh, I hear you asking well "where's your dad Callie?" Gone. Wow sorry, that was a little blunt but its the truth. He isn't dead if that's what you're thinking. My parents are just divorced. Plain old divorced no drama, nothing bad just my parents weren't happy together anymore. They are still friends though which its nice ‘cause no one talks crap bout the other. Enough about my boring family they aren't interesting.
“Calliope Arden James! If I have to call your name one more time I swear to God you are dead!” My mom screams at the top of her lungs. Well, you heard my ugly name. Hope it was worth the wait.
"I'm up dammit mom!" I yell back. I may have a slight attitude problem if you couldn't tell. I've been told multiple times that I'm rude. Well, that sucks to be them ‘cause I couldn't give two s***s. 
“EXCUSE ME!” my mother is now stomping up the steps. I groan.
“Grounded for a week, give me your phone now!” she demands. I hand over my phone. It has a cute case, I just got it. It's lilac with gold stripes.
"So now can you talk to me without swearing or giving me attitude and be an adult? Hm? You're going to be 18 in 3 months," she lectures. Oh yes, the nice reminder that I can legally move out of this horrid house in 3 months.
"Um hello, are you listening to me, Callie? I'm not going to toler-."
"Tolerate this behavior yes mom I know you remind me every day that I'm a brat who is fat and selfish," I interrupt her.
“I have never ever called you fat ever in my life plus you aren't even that fat but I mean there's always room for improvement,” she suggests.
"See there, right there you said it yourself  ‘there is always room for improvement' implying I'm big and ugly," I retort. At this point, I'm almost in tears but honestly, I should be used to it. She basically says this to me every day.
“Come Callie that's not what I meant,” my mother says to me. “I just want you to be happy and healthy and I don't want you to end up with diabetes. You know it runs in our family and I don't want you to deal with it long term,” she explained. I guess she has a point I don’t want to deal with that. I saw what my grandfather had to deal with before he died.
"Well stop saying stuff like that because it doesn't help whatsoever," I say looking at the floor. Ew, I still have this ugly carpet that is bright pink with butterflies. I've had it since I was five. You can really tell I haven't updated my room in years. Everything is pink. The walls, the carpet, the drapes, my bedding and sheets and my door. Yes, even my door wasn't safe from five old me who just had to have everything pink. I regret that decision every day. I mean I could have changed it anytime I wanted but again that takes effort and I'm very lazy.
"Whatever get dressed and meet me in the kitchen I made your oatmeal and have a banana ready for you." my mother informs me. I realized the time.6:45. Crap. I sprint my bathroom and change into leggings and my Harvard sweatshirt even though would never in a million years accept me because why would they I'm not their demographic. my grades are horrible. 2.3 GPA going strong. I'm pretty sure they look for someone with like a 5.0 gap which I didn't think was possible.
I pass my scale. I despise that little white box. A real dream crusher if you ask me. I contemplate and think "step on it maybe it changed maybe you lost weight! You were only 195lbs!" then I think "no you dumbass you didn't lose weight look at you, you're basically shamoo may as well jump into the ocean now." I look in the mirror my pale face stares back at me. I look at my body. All I see is stretch marks and cellulites. It may as well be craters on my thighs like damn. I look at the scale again and I just step on it not thinking. 196 lbs.
"What the hell," I mumble. 
“Callie are you almost done up there we need to leave and you still need to eat.” my mom yells
"Coming just give me a sec," I yell back. 196 lbs. One pound seems to make a huge impact when you struggle with body image. Whatever I'm over like I mean I can't really change it. I throw my hair into a messy bun and brush my teeth real quick. I grab my backpack and run downstairs.
“Your stuff is in the kitchen on the counter just grab the banana you don't have time to eat the oatmeal lets go” my mother barks at me. Whatever. I grab the banana and run out the door with my mom.
"Hey, mom?" I say sheeply
“Ya whats up?”
"I gained a pound," I say kinda quite expecting an outburst from my mom about how I need to eat healthier and not eat crappy processed food.
"Well, Callie I'm kind of disappointed in you. I don't know how I raised you to eat junk food I'm so healthy and you really need to eat right and workout I'm tired of hearing your pity party everytime you gain weight." my mother lectures me. Damn that really hurt but I can't show it I need to keep my "b**** face" on. I can't show that I care I need to show my mom that she's wrong.
"Damn ok you didn't need to be so blunt," I say
"Your blunt and rude all the time maybe this will teach you some respect." she lectures. At this point, I'm done. I'm pissed I need to get out of this car. Almost at school thank god. I turn my body away from my mom. She doesn't say a word and neither do I. Whatever.
“S***!” my mom yells. She swerves and ends up in a ditch. I black out.