Diana (Z.M.)

Chapter Three: Commercials

Chapter Three

Diana's P.O.V. 2010

      My wall stares at me. It seems to know how bored and ridiculously exhausted I really am. I have been writing this script for the past two hours and still, I have nothing. God forbid that my partner, Rachel, helps. She has never helped with our school show. It doesn't surprise me either, especially since she has a new boyfriend. Jake is his name. He's in eighth grade and now it's the biggest thing in the world to her.

      "Listen, Diana. You don't get it. Do you realize how high up this will bring me in the food chain? I can be popular! I mean, you can too since you're my friend! Wouldn't that be great! Of course, both of us will need to lose some weight before we get popular! No one who's fat ever is!"   

      That's what she told me the last time I complained about this to her. It made no sense to me but I'm not one to speak my mind. It takes a lot for me to build up the courage to say anything to her. Of course, I end up getting reprimanded. This isn't anything new to me. Rachel is egotistic. She only cares about what others think and how she looks. 

      Even though she says she is fat, she really isn't. In fact, she is the complete opposite; tall and skinny. She just says that all the time to get compliments from others. She says this at lunch, and in the hallways, and even with her boyfriend. Every time she gets a resounding chorus of protests to which she would smile. Go figure.

      There never will be anyone to say that for me. 

      I continue to act like those words don't faze me: the ones that are still screamed at me from across the school yard. Fat. Obese. Worthless.  However, deep down they do. That little girl who used to be so happy and care free last year is gone now. I'm still me but I'm wiser. I'm more realistic now. Not everyone is as nice as they seem to be. Sadly, I figured this out the hard way.

      But, one good thing is I have lost some weight because of it. Not as much as I would like to, though. It took a whole year for me to lose five pounds. I was proud then. Now, It doesn't even matter to me. It didn't stop the names. 

      "Diana! You really need to come clean up the living room!" My mom shouts, breaking me out of my trance. Sighing, I close the notebook and shove it into my green backpack. I had nearly forgotten about my daily dose of chores. 

      "I'm coming mother!" I shout, leaving my room. 

      Entering the living room, I find that it does not only need a nice cleaning but a whole team to disinfect the area. Food wrappers are scattered on the wood floor. My brother's school bag is thrown lazily on the couch; his arts and crafts spilling out of the open pockets. It doesn't help that Spooky, my gray cat is sprawled out on the floor and shedding. 

      Stepping over him, I reach for the broom that someone had laid against the wall. Of course, they could get the broom out but never actually bother to sweep. This fails to surprise me. My entire family is lazy, except for my mother. She exercises and cleans all the time. I used to ask her why she did it so much but the only response I ever got was a slight smile and a shrug of her bony little shoulders. 

      Sighing, I begin to sweep the floor, avoiding the cat the entire time until I absolutely need the stupid feline to move. When I use the broom to try and swipe him away, the animal swipes out at my bare feet. Blood is drawn almost instantly. Muttering a curse beneath by breath, I kick the cat. He goes flying across the room and hits the wall with a thud.

      I smile with contempt. 

      As I pick up the living room, I allow the television to play in the background. I always need some sound in the background; whether it be a TV or music. Currently, Criminal Minds is droning on. Between the sound of gun shots and the off-key singing of my brother's rendition for Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, there is plenty of noise to keep my mind busy. 

      "Are you fat?"

      My head snaps to the television to see a stick skinny model on the screen. Her bright green eyes shine out from beneath her long dark lashes. Her face is so mesmerizing and pretty. No, pretty isn't the right word. Gorgeous. Yeah, that's it. She's gorgeous. Perfect.

      "Do you want to be beautiful like me? All you need is to take this special pill called..."

      This is when I zone out. I don't need the temptation. My self confidence already isn't the best but I still have some. I have never thought of myself as ugly. Sure, I know I'm not the prettiest but that doesn't mean I'm not pretty. It just means that there are those who are much more beautiful than me. I'm okay with that. I just don't like it when my weight is pointed out. I know I'm fat. No one else really needs to tell me. 

      I own a mirror.

      "Maybe I should buy some samples of that for you." My mother speaks from behind me. 

      Turning, I look to face her. In her hands she holds a plate and a dish towel. Why would she even say that? "You know, so you can get rid some of your excess weight. I mean, you're starting to get a little round baby girl." She pats my stomach with a sad and disapproving smile before she turns back into the kitchen. 

      Anger and sadness swell up inside me. She said I needed those pills. All I can think of is that slogan. Are you fat? Do you want to be beautiful like me? When had weight and beauty become intertwined? Fat. That's basically what my mom is calling me. That's what all the kids at school say. It's what my doctor says. 

      I'm sorry Diana, but you need to lose weight. You're just too heavy.

     Finishing the living room, I hold back the tears prying at my eyelids. I know I am fat but am I ugly? Am I ugly like that woman suggested? That beautiful woman?

      Are you fat?

      Yes, yes I am. That's what hurts me the most. I am fat. According to that beautiful lady I am ugly. According to my mother, I need to lose weight. According to me, I hate my body.

      I place the broom back inside the closet. As I pass Spooky, he hisses at me with clenched teeth. I toss a throw pillow at him and watch as he skids behind the recliner. 

      I hate my body and that damned cat.