[maybe a bit of a warning about how desciptive some insults against our main character and her body are]
If there is one thing that Daley wants in life, it's sleeping in in the morning. And he takes a lot of pride in the fact that he can because he's an independent writer. He can doubt himself all he wants, fear being rejected by the publisher all he wants but when it comes down to it, he really likes to call himself an independent writer. Maybe the only reason he wants this job is so that he can sleep in every single day. I, for one, cannot. Not because I have to get up and do stuff, not on a Saturday morning but it is physically impossible for me to sleep for more than six hours. After six hours give or take, I always wake up and I have no idea why and there's no way of changing that sleeping pattern. It does come in handy though.
I try not to make too much noise as I get ready and leave the house to go down to Starbucks. Usually, even though it's early, there's quite a line so I get out my phone as soon as I see that I'm like tenth in line and start playing a game. That's usually when I forget that there are other things happening around me and outside of the game so when someone bumps into me and I drop my phone to the ground, it almost makes my heart stop. I bend down and pick up my phone, only to come up and see Mr. Tarker, previously mentioned hot teacher who is an absolute asshole. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he curses and I stare at him in disbelief, then realise that he has spilt his coffee over himself. "I'm sorry" I say, not really meaning it because it was in no way my fault. "You can buy me a new coffee!" I can't help it and let out a little laugh. "Excuse me? This was entirely your own fault, I was just standing here." "Yeah and you're enormous so in a way, not looking up and just thinking you can take all the space..." I raise my eyebrows and take a step back, eyeing him up and down. I cannot and do not want to believe it. "Are you serious right now? Who do you think you are?" "Yeah, the guy you will have to buy a new coffee to make it okay." "I don't want to make anything okay, I want you to leave me alone. What is wrong with you?" He's mocking me with his eyes and I shake my head in disbelief, unsure if I should be amused or just full on pissed off. A few people around us are already staring and I can't blame them.
"Look, just because you want to keep your dignity or whatever which you can't really do anyway, looking like that, you don't have to be so stuck up and make a scene. Whatever you're hoping for is not going to happen." "What? Tell me, what am I hoping for, Mr. Tarker?" "I've seen you looking at me, trying to act all cool and..." I have to bite my lip to not break out into complete laughter and I see two girls behind him smiling and biting their lips as well. "Are you suggesting I have some kind of sick crush on you even though you're always disrespecting me at work?" "You don't have to hide it, just know that for the record, neither me or anybody is interested in you. Why would anybody be? I mean, look at you ... disgusting. You're never going to find anybody. Before you can expect anybody to respect you, you should lose some weight, no one's gonna like you or take you seriously, fat like that."
"Sir, I think that's enough. Leave the lady alone" an angry voice interrupts him and my eyes snap up at a beautiful black lady behind the counter. Mr. Tarker stares at her, then looks around and meets a few more mad glares. He laughs, nervous but still convinced he made sense, then leaves, but not without giving me another disgusted look. Now, had we been in middle school and I had been the loser and he had been the very cool quarterback that everybody loves, this would've caused a riot, people bullying me and making me the victim for the rest of my school time, he would have had a ton of following. But we're adults and at this point, even the high school bullies, people like him, should've gained a clearer view of the world. Apparently, Mr. Tarker is one of the sad individuals that have missed the memo.
I mean, I admit, I have heard things like that before, even after high school, not often but they're nothing new to me. And I am also aware that a lot people who aren't saying them, are probably thinking them. I also admit, it hurts. But the pain is bearable, what makes me really mad and frustrates me so much is that I want to scream, tell him how stupid he is because he will never realise it himself. Never will he get off his high horse that he has built for himself by being shallow. Because of the way he looks, he will never truly understand that people can respect, love you and take you seriously even if you're not society's idea of perfect or even normal or acceptable. But you don't want a plus-size gal like me to tell you about society because me and you, we both do not have the time.
Never will people like Mr. Tarker understand that I do not want to lose weight because he is under the impression that I am too lazy or just can't. But I know exactly what I would have to do to lose weight and look like his idea of pretty, the thing is: I don't want to. I can't be bothered, my weight doesn't define me or make anything about my life hard. I would not be myself, a skinny me would be an entirely different person and I like who I am. I don't need anybody's approval and I am sure as hell not going to try and get it by losing weight. Just think about it for a moment, let it run through your head how much of a stupid and simple thing it is. And that's supposed to define you? How much you weigh? How you look? That's just such an unimportant thing, such an insignificant and small part of you. People who weigh too much are just as much a normal person as someone who ways too little or just the right amount. And I know, coming from me, you'd think that I only say that because I myself don't look like society's idea of perfect. But I will have you know that educated, beautiful people who have it easy in life because of that will tell you exactly the same thing. It's simple. Because compared to your personality, your choices, your mind ... your looks are nothing, your weight is nothing. It's nothing because it's so simple, so unimportant and not complex but your mind, your feelings, your views, those are complicated things that can be explored and judged and that's what you're supposed to judge, you have the right to discuss that. But what gives you the right to judge someone's appearance?
Just before it's my turn in line, a businessman lets me pass and I smile at him. "Thank you" I say even though he clearly just feels sorry for me. I know that a lot of people think I am now embarrassed for what happened but I know that mostly, Mr. Tarker has embarrassed himself and that's what he deserves even though he doesn't realise it, people seeing him for what he truly is and not accepting it. Because behavior like that should not be accepted.
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Super Girl ✩Humor
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