Fat Chance, Charlie Vega

by Crystal Maldonado

Miraculously, both fit, but when I turn to the side to inspect the look, I feel my heart sink. It just doesn’t look the way I’d pictured in my head. And that feels like a gut punch.

Yeah, hate that feeling.

I’m trying to do a nice thing here by taking you shopping.” “Yeah, at stores where I can’t fit into anything!” “Well, I didn’t know!” I find that hard to believe, given that when she was fat, she would always talk about how shopping for special occasions was particularly stressful.

Then her face brightens. “Why don’t you look through my closet? You can wear whatever you want! What’s mine is yours.” It’s a sweet thought, but I can feel my palms get sweaty at the suggestion. I’d be lucky to be able to fit my leg in any of Amelia’s dresses. Why can’t she see that?

All moments so kind and well intentioned. All moments that leave me feeling so ashamed of my size. Does she really not see how different our bodies are?

I want to be supportive of my mom’s new relationship, but…the way she’s acting is too much.

Moms shouldn’t be prettier than their daughters. It’s not fair.

Been there, and it sucks.

When I reach for another handful of chips, my mother, in front of everyone, tsks me, and my hand recoils to my side.

Sometimes I worry I pick fights with my mom about things I should just let go, but when others around me see the same things—see that my mom is wrong—it helps me feel sane.

It’s the first year where I don’t waste my wish on being skinny; I wish for more happy moments like this.