Dear Mother Dearest,
I guess by telling Julia that I will probably quit our plan, signifies that you think I'm happy in the body I'm in. I hope you know that isn't the case. In fact, I'm incredibley uncomfortable in the body I'm in. Do you think I like being the fat kid? The one that looks awful in everything, and only good in select things? You think I like looking grotesque in the school uniforms and in the p.e. uniforms because of my size? Or that I can't find the kind of shoes I want, because I have big feet? Or that I can't fit in cute shirts, or skirts or pants, because I'm bigger. Or that you're thinner than me? My mom. Is thinner than me. Do you think that makes me feel good? Do you think I like only wearing big clothes in the juniors sizes and can't wear what I really want? Or that I look at these clothes at Anthropology and Urban Outfitters and Forever 21, and know I'll never fit in any of them? And that I'll never look like the girls that shop in there. Even though I want to, so badly? Oh, and then there's the fact I'll never be able to look cute in a bathing suit? Ever.
I look at girls every single day, and just wish I could be thin like them, or wear cute clothes like them. It sucks. Mom. It sucks.
I'm fatter than my own mom, at age 15. What happens at 18? And so on? If I don't change something, I'll be the fat kid all of my life. So, thank you for the support. I don't really need it. When I 'shred' those 20 pounds, then 40. You won't be laughing. I'll be 120 pounds and happy.
Love,
Abby
