Poutine

Rules and Pig Filters

I don't know why I still talked to Jory. I guess she was the last person that still spoke to me. It didn't make a lot of sense. We were never close, and when I had left for PEI I ditched everyone. Maybe I ought to have been happy she still cared to talk to me. Maybe it was my reward for going to her birthday party. She is ten years or more younger than me- the oldest niece of Billiam's. She was the one who had befriended Emmaline but let her down time and time again. Maybe I should have cut her off, but she still takled with Emmaline and maybe I hoped she would be good for Em. Emmaline still had no friends, but she is so much like me- I guess I should have expected she might struggle in the friends department.

Jory warned me never- ever- to return to Billiam. It had never crossed my mind. In between hashing about the girl Billiam had been with between me- how Jory hated her!- she gave me tips on how to build again. She told me to hit the gym without mocking my size. She said I would feel stronger- toned- resilient. A subtle in your face should I ever run into Billiam again. She told me where she got her tattoos. I noted it. She told me the best way to get back at Billiam was to do what she did when she dumped her toxic ex. Sleep with everyone. I couldn't bring myself to do that. I've never been like that, even if I have a string of old relationships.

Emmaline was supportive. She told me I should get an industrial piercing. She applauded my clothing choices- we were freqent buyers on Shein and Temu in spite of being on minimum wage. I felt fulfilled just through clothes. I ditched the skirts I wore for years when I tried to impress my family with Christianity.

I had lost weight in PEI, and while I was still plus sized, I was comfortable in my skin once more. I bought crop tops. I bought ripped leggings. I was cute. And they were mine.

And then Emmaline gave me a small box. It contained an ear stretching kit. She had bought it for herself.

"You don't want it?" I opened it. All the jewlery- in progressive sizes were black plastic. I would rock it. Even the tiniest ones.

"No- my boyfriend is a Muslim. He said no more tattoos or piercings for me."

"Sounds controlling." I probably should have shut my mouth. I suppose that could scream jealousy, and truthfully it wasn't a bad "rule". My daughter has three tattoos and her ears have- well, I lost count. It wouldn't hurt for her to simmer on body modification.

"It's my choice."

"Of course," I tried to smooth it over. "Want to help me?"

"Of course! I'll live through you."

I laughed. Shouldn't it be the other way around? I'm eighteen years older than my daughter. I thought parents would live through their children. I have never thought of stretching my ears. I actually think it's quite gross. At least the large, gaping ones. But Jory had her ears stretched. I wondered if she gave Emmaline the idea of it.

Out came Snapchat. I would document it.

The first gage went in so quickly. I put on a pig face filter- a cute one. "Fucking hell, Em!"

She had gone to gage three without warning.

"I put oil on it."

"Oil that bitch!" I cried out again, half scream, half laughter. The other was pushed into my very red ear. "What do you think, guys?" Proudly I turned my head. And posted.

Yes, Billiam. I have changed.