CHOOSE ME

Chapter One: So, why the fc*k am I here again?

I turned unto my side and immediately, I felt the soft satin sheets against the skin of my cheek. It felt so soft and oh so good. My eyes fluttered open and for a few seconds, I didn't know where I was. I stared blankly at the golden champagne pillow in front of me then suddenly it dawned on me and I sat up straight.

Surely it was all a dream, I must have been dreaming. I looked around me frantically and pinched myself hard on my forearm and I yelped in pain. I looked down at my sore arm and surely enough I drew blood. Does that happen in dreams? I wondered.

I felt a tingling sensation in both my breasts and I instinctively felt them. Whoaaa! I had boobs, full throbbing boobs. I was distracted from my scattered thoughts by a sound. It sounded oddly familiar and even equally pleasing was another sound. It was so soothing. I turned towards the sounds and I saw the two of them. It all came back to me

This time last year.........

I stood in front of the mirror and felt miserable. It was not an unfamiliar feeling. The mirror and I are not friends and yet I stood there and stared at my reflection, hating every color, angle, bulge, and hue. I sighed.

I was such a lost hope. I mean, what could I do with myself? I wouldn't say I was depressed, but I'm just tired of the same old song.

Maybe that was a type of depression?

My name is Raychel, don't ask me why it's spelled like that, that's how my mother or dad spelled it. Ray for short. Ray Monaghan; Sound's like a guy's name when you say it like that.

Well, nothing could be more apt because I certainly do not feel like a woman, today or any day for that matter. Not since I was 13!

There was nothing really special or relevant about that number, just the age I thought you were expected to blossom. Take on a feminine shape and attract the opposite sex. It was also the age I started to keep a diary, now that I think about it. Eh, again, nothing special.

I did grow alright; however, I think, maybe too much. By 15 years old, I think I was at least 6 feet tall and... er... 300 lbs, ok maybe 250 lbs. Ok, so I was a poster child for obesity. If ever there was one, that would be me, yours truly.

I don't believe that I ever stopped growing because the last time I checked my weight during my pathetic last attempt to lose weight...like 6 months ago, I weighed maybe 288lbs, lol, that's what I tell myself. The truth is I'm more 300lbs looking than 288lbs.

I'm now 30 years old and I'm at least 6'1/2 inches tall. Needless to say. I gave up dieting. It is so much easier to pull teeth than to lose any pounds.

Why bother? I've tried every diet fad available to man. Medically, I am told I am healthy by doctors I've seen in the past, so again why bother making myself unhappy? It wasn't like I was a very happy person to begin with anyway ....

My problem is not so much that I am this tall, big...ok, let's just call it what it is; fat girl, but to top it all, I was not even shapely, which was very annoying. Even more annoying was the fact that I had no boobs. I mean what's wrong with big, shapely, curvy, and booby? That would at least compensate for something but nooo, I am this tall, big lump of meat; big gutted, flat chested, flat buttocked, and dark-haired freak. Although I was born blonde. Like that should mean anything Ray, really? blonde? So what? Who cares for a fat blonde?

Do you feel sad for me yet? aww, please wait, there's more to come......

So, I'm standing in front of this mirror for a reason. A reason that seriously begs my head to be examined by a shrink. Surely, there had to be an answer to this madness of a decision to attend this sham of a wedding event.

Who am I trying to impress? What am I trying to prove? Maybe, I'm just a masochist? 

Wait, am I?....to be investigated later...hmm?

My younger sister, Lana, aptly named after one of my mother's favorite actresses; Lana Turner, because she was beautiful, was getting married. Yup, she was getting married to my, once upon a time fiancé.

Yes, it's very brutal and oh-so pathetic. Even more so because, all of my family members especially my mother seem to be ok with it. And, believe me when I say, I wasn't always ok with it. Truth be told, I'm not even sure I'm ok with it now.

But, when it happened, I cried my eyes out and threatened to commit suicide, which I was too cowardly to carry out anyway, I eventually left town after many months of enduring pitiful and painful stares from the town folks. I mustn't forget to mention that it's a very small town of maybe 20,000 people even if that.

I think the most painful reaction of them all was my mom's attitude.

"Oh honey, Barry was never really a good fit for you anyway. "

Really? That's what you tell your heartbroken daughter that has been betrayed by her sibling who happens to be your favorite daughter!

I stared at her with hurt eyes.

Sometimes I questioned if she was my mother. Sometimes I think that I was adopted and nobody is bold enough to tell me. I certainly didn't look like her. I looked like my father.

The story was that he and my mom were secret childhood sweethearts. My father's dad was an assistant pastor to my mom's dad, the senior pastor at the local church. They were Native American Christian missionaries who served the Lord and tried to make a life for themselves in this small non-diversified town but they didn't bank on the not-so-respectable daughter of the head pastor lusting after their son.

 My mother, the beautiful, vivacious, and precocious, Rosa Mae, the daughter of the respectable pastor of the local church was betrothed to another upstanding church member's son when they started the affair

My father had nothing to his name but his big phallus which my slutty mom could not get enough of! I'm not making this shit up, that's what the town folks believe. Anyway, eventually his potent seed knocked her up while they were still in high school. To avoid an even bigger scandal, there was a hush-hush shotgun wedding, and Seven months later out came me.

5 years later came my sister who was a replica of my mother. The irony of it all was that I got my blonde locks from her and my sister got our father's raven black hair and my mom's blue eyes. I had my dad's green eyes and his big size

My parents didn't stay married for long. They were not happy. The town and everyone in it judged them too harshly is my belief. What do you expect from a small town in Alabama?

My mom was pressured to marry someone worthy of her status by her very respectable and very pretentious Christian parents. Very facetious. I can't stand these stupid pretentious Christians, including my grandparents. They are all cut from the same cloth. My mom eventually did and my father moved away to Washington State. The state that he was originally from. His parents continued with their missionary work across the globe. I don't remember them. My father never remarried but he tried to keep in touch with us. My mother's second marriage was acceptable but bland. I bet she was missing that great big brown cock of my father ha ha ha.

Am I being mean? you bet I am. I strongly believe that that's what has turned her into a cold-hearted bitch!