Dressing Rooms

Birthday

Time for new clothes

I walk solemnly through the miss aisle and look at what thinner girls would wear

And scoff a little, thinking,

“That wouldn’t fit my right cheek.”

Go into the plus size section

And

Pick out a black and white dress with a green sweater attached

Pick out a long flowing skirt and a breezy shirt to go with it

Pick out a pair of jeans and a cute tee

Trek back through the missus with my clothes, no longer having the guts to scoff

I go into the dressing room and turn away from the mirror

Take off my clothes and put them in a neat pile

Try on the dress

I take a deep breath and face the mirror

The dress isn’t bad

The waist hides my tummy

The hem favors my massive calves

I take it off and turn away again to try on the skirt and shirt

The skirt hides my unchiseled legs

The shirt gives me a cool, relaxed appearance

I take them off and try on the jeans and shirt

I know that I must’ve got the wrong size
They don’t fit

I check

I fit into that size last month

I put the jeans back on the hanger and try the tee

The 2X makes me look like a muffin top

I turn around and catch myself in all my glory in the mirror and she speaks to me

"When you don’t eat your scare me. And then, when you eat too much—to have the food give you the love your mother doesn’t—you scare me. I want you to stop. It’s not about how you look. This is about your life."

There are tears in her eyes

She cares what happens to me

"I do. I always have. You’re beautiful. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise!"

That word ruins it

Because I know that is the one thing I am not

Back to reality

I dress in my baggy shirt and baggy jeans and leave the clothes

Walk out of the store without a second look and head home

My mother, two times my size sitting on the couch, eating cheese puffs, asks me what I bought

“Nothing,” I tell her and go up to my room to eat my stash of Hershey bars

I hate dressing rooms