Indigo Children

Written Statement #3 Pippa

I, Pippa Jane Addams, make this statement of my own free will. I understand that I do not have to say anything but that it may harm my defence if I do not mention when questioned something which I later rely on in court. This statement may be given in evidence.

It wasn't like me not to open my mouth after what I saw, but I felt tired. I did tell Quinn I felt horrible for not doing something, but she said the problem wasn't anything I could help with.

She didn't know I was behind her in the supermarket Sunday morning. I didn't make myself known. I'd had a shitty morning and wanted to get what I needed and go home.

My mum's sister was visiting for the weekend. Aunt Linda and I have never been close, so I wasn't bothered she was coming to snoop. To be truthful, she looks down on us, but nobody has the guts to say it. Linda is a woman that doesn't understand money because she's never had to. Why my mum can't afford a detached four-bed house is beyond her.

She arrived as I was leaving for the shop. Sunday was a beautiful summers day, so I put on a maxi dress and made myself look nice. I felt good. I was happy with my reflection. I did my hair wavy, and my makeup went on excellent. My eyebrows that I did a little different looked terrific—the struggle is real. For the first time in months, I was happy with the person looking back at me. I even clapped with excitement.

I passed aunt Linda on the drive, and she smiled at me. I didn't stop to talk. I smiled back and headed to the path where I waited to cross the road. The day was going to be good. I could feel it, but then I heard my auntie tell my mum that I was quite pretty for a big girl.

Wow! I felt my heart shatter. All that feel-good momentum I had going smashed into thousands of pieces.

I kept my eyes on the sky, hoping tears wouldn't come and ruin my mascara. I tried to disregard the embarrassment crawling on my chest, no doubt turning red, but tears came. Within seconds my face was a mix of foundation and water. I could see that on my fingertips.

My mum ignored aunt Lindas comment. She does that. Sometimes she glazes over things that make her uncomfortable. I was too hurt to turn around and too proud to start shouting.

As I crossed the road with that comment weaved deep in my mind, I became mad at the permanency of the words. I went over the way she said it with joy as though it was a compliment. She couldn't say I was pretty and leave it at that, could she? No, she had to use the word significant to define me.

That is what gets into my head. I like my body until people make me second guess my confidence.

I hate the word BIG. How can three letters make me feel so much pain? So different? So abnormal? I wish the word would vanish from the English language. What that word does to me is horrible. I'm afraid of it. Even when it's used to clarify the size of a building or an idea, its presence to me is very personal.

By the time I got to the shop, I felt beaten down and bought one of those horrid green smoothies. Already I decided honesty was the best policy when recording my next TikTok. I fell for the backhanded comment from aunt-fucking-Linda and bought a fake feel-good drink. I'm always honest with my followers, even when I don't always find the strength to believe what I preach.

When I walked into the supermarket, I did what I do every time I'm in there. I got out my phone to record myself grabbing a hand full of segregated plus size clothes. I put them with all the other sizes. I'm happy my size is mainstream now, but why do they need to be separate from the other sizes? They're the same garments! Christ, humans are so intelligent yet so fucking stupid at the same time.