Fat Chance, Charlie Vega

by Crystal Maldonado

I’ve also never dated anyone. And I’m fat. Those things don’t necessarily go hand in hand, but for me, I think they do.

That seemingly small moment made me acutely aware of my body and its bigness, and it was then that I realized that being fat is a thing: A Very Bad Thing, according to most.

the way most stores refuse to make clothes that even fit me and then if they do, they’re much more expensive, as if my fat body comes with a fat wallet, too.

but here’s my secret and way-too-embarrassing-to-share hope: one day, he’ll realize it was me all along.

For some reason, the idea of her husband go-karting with the kids while Dora watches from the sidelines makes me sad. She’s fat like me, and I can’t help but think that’s what makes her unwilling to ride. It sounds like something I’d do, hanging back because I’m too scared that the seat belt won’t buckle or something.

I don’t mean to seem shallow, but it’s like, when everyone goes out of their way to tell you “what a pretty face” you have, you notice.

I believe that people can be healthy at any size. I think other fat girls are absolutely beautiful. But my mind struggles to bridge the gap between the two ideologies. I’m fat, and I celebrate other fat people, but I don’t quite celebrate me. It makes me feel like a fraud.

my room—which is a sanctuary, by the way, from the twinkling white lights to the mountains of books to the window seat where I love to read. I’ve worked really hard to curate this very particular Instagram aesthetic and I only leave it when I absolutely must. It’s the introvert in me.

You should get dramatic about things you care about,

As I look through racks of clothes I can’t fit into, I try to stop the voice in my head that keeps replaying Tony’s comment over and over. When I fail, I give up pretending these clothes will fit and wander over to the accessories. At least I can wear a purse.

“There’s a trick to eating cupcakes?” He pushes the plate toward me. “If you don’t mind.” I take it from him and watch as he carefully removes the cupcake’s wrapper and then delicately breaks the bottom half of the cake off. He squishes the half cake on top of the frosting, effectively turning the cupcake into a cupcake sandwich.

I’ve started by following a ton of women who post photos of themselves proudly and free from Facetune. They are not apologetic about their bodies; they don’t hide beneath a million layers. Some wear fatkinis and crop tops. Others don’t necessarily show off skin but embrace the kind of beautiful, high-fashion looks I’ve always coveted. I do my best to participate, too. I comment with others who are active in the movement and, at the encouragement of one, have been trying to take and post more pictures of myself on my own Insta when I can, hoping to normalize what my own body looks like. It’s been nice to follow some people who have bodies that look like mine, especially when they’re often the first to leave an encouraging comment on my posts. It’s a slow process. But I’m trying.

I have ideas for a story about two nineties girls who became friends on the old version of the internet, America Online,

It’s not like people of color make up nearly half of the United States population or anything,” Brian says.

(If you can’t call your best friend a bitch, is she really even your best friend?)