Free Unpretty: An Unloved Ones Prequel by Kevin Richey Page B

shop at. It sucks being in between regular and plus sizes like me. I can't find anything that fits at either store. I'm too big for a store like this, and too small for Lane Bryant. It makes shopping so much harder."
    It is all I can do to keep the smile frozen on my face, and nod sympathetically like a good friend. I don't feel angry at Sarah. It must be hard to not know where you can shop, to know you are maybe five pounds away from fitting into tiny little skirts at the cool shops. But at the same time, I would kill to have that problem. I am so incredibly jealous of how pretty Sarah is that it makes no sense to me that she herself feels fat. I can only imagine what she thinks about me.
    We walk through the mall. My breath is heavy, and I'm struggling to match Sarah's pace. She's obviously pissed that she couldn't fit properly into the skirt, but if she keeps going at this pace, I think I might have a heart attack. I slow down, pretending I want to look in a shop window just to slow down. "Hold on," I wheeze.
    I turn and to my horror I've stopped outside the chocolate shop. I feel my face turn red. Could I be any more pathetic?
    And the worse thing is, even though I've stopped here accidentally, I find myself actually wanting to go inside. There are free samples at the counter. And the woman behind the counter, even from inside the store, she notices me. She's the only mall employee that has been friendly to me so far. She's a little plump herself. Not as big as me, but larger than Sarah. I wonder if she's gained weight since working at this store, and then I feel terrible.
    Even fat people judge other fat people. Maybe we do it because we’re so used to judging ourselves.
    "Come on," Sarah says, taking me by the hand. "Have strength. We've got the beach to slim down for."
    She says this encouragingly, not in a snide or catty way like some girls might. The main reason we get along is that I don't feel that Sarah judges me for being fat. She never brings it up, and seems oblivious to the fact that I might not want to wear a swimsuit in front of half the school at the beach during spring break, or that I might not have a date for any school dance ever, or might not ever talk about boys because I would be too embarrassed if it ever got out that I liked a boy. If the boy found out, that is. I don't want him to have that moment of disgust where he realizes someone like me likes him.
    We continue through the mall, and I know where we're going now. The feeling of dread is rising in my stomach. We're going to return the dress.
    My stomach gurgles. I was so nervous about returning this dress that I've been eating like crazy all day. I even asked for a bathroom pass twice today just to visit the vending machines. We're not allowed to chew gum in class, which really isn't fair because I would never leave it under a seat or on the floor. I don't want to leave any evidence behind. But the chewing helps with the nervousness. And when I can't chew gum in class, my only option is to chew food. (I even have teachers that don't let you chew gum but
will
let you eat crackers. How backwards is that?)
    But all that food today was even too much for me. My stomach is unhappy, filled with junk.
    We approach the store, and I feel like we walk in a little more quickly than we walked into the thin store. Sarah doesn't want anyone to see us going into the fat girls' store, and I don't really blame her.
    Here in this store, the mannequins are all about Sarah's size. I notice that even here they want to show off their clothes in the smallest possible size. I have never seen a mannequin my size. It makes me sick to even picture it, to have some resemblance of me that I couldn't hide. But at the same time, I recognize that it's unfair. Even in the fat girls' store they try to glamorize thin.
    Sarah heads to a corner of the store and starts sifting through the sale rack. This is a more boutique store than Lane Bryant or Torrid. This is for when fat girls