Memoirs of a Fat Girl

I work with four different students this semester, but as always, half my time belongs to Mia.

I’ve worked with Mia for all two plus years I’ve been at this job, and she is easily the biggest reason why I have yet to leave. She’s a very sweet girl in the graphic design program at the college, and is my height with brown curly hair, and huge hazel eyes.

Mia has a very gentle personality, and we joke around together all the time. She’s the kid sister I never had.

I was a few minutes late yesterday; not for the class itself, but later than I usually am. I blew through the room, whirlwind style, and rushed around in a flurry to get my laptop booted and setup in time for lecture.

Mia tapped on my arm, and I turned to face her. “You look so different today,” she said.

“Really?” I typed out for her. “Different how?”

“You look so good,” she smiled at me, and I had to smile back with a gesture of thanks. “No really, you look very pretty.”

Well, now. Mia may not know me better than I know myself, but she sees me almost every single day, and is one of the few people bound to notice a difference. Should one ever happen, that is.

I was tempted to ask her what made me so different that day as compared to every other day, but by then her professor had launched into a super boring discussion on the design of Annual Reports, leaving me to ponder my own devices.

I look so different, I look even pretty. Is it because I’ve lost a bit of weight?

Maybe a little.

Is it because I’ve had to go shopping recently to buy new, smaller clothes that actually fit me?

Maybe a little.

Is it because I’ve been wearing my hair loose and wild, in its natural state, and not clipped back all the time?

Maybe a little.

Then again, maybe it’s because I’ve just returned from an amazing California holiday? Or that I’m wearing a touch of makeup here and there? Or that I’m smiling more? Walking taller? Or that the one boy I thought about all these years is back in my life, in the most wonderful of ways?

Maybe maybe maybe a little.

Then again, how about a combination of All of the Above?

Maybe a lot.

It never dawned upon me how important this path would become. I wouldn’t get off it for the world.

Forge on, little one. Forge on.