Project Fat Suit

Twenty-Six: When the Going Gets Rough, Join Facebook

I protruded both my lips out as if I was constipated and hit the capture button. Yup, there’s the duck face. Happy with the result of my picture, I uploaded it as my profile picture

Grinning, I clicked on another notification notice that had popped up concerning my profile picture.

“You look like a ditch digger whom Hephaestus himself looks down upon for being uglier himself.”

Awwwww, I had some haters that liked Greek mythology and using odd insults! I preferred these witty comments to the usual “you look ugly, GTFO biatch” or “pics or it didn’t happen . . . oh wait you really are that ugly” that appeared moments later by various people who I didn’t know. I finally got why so many people are addicted to social media now. This was fun.

I settled on making one more annoying post before leaving my inner incredibly-annoying facebook girl behind. . . for now at least. Hmm, what else was trending. “Sharing” and “LMS” were extremely unbearable these days, especially the ones about boyfriends donating ovaries to their girlfriends.

“0nCe up0on @ Tme, THEre livED @ boy @nd guurl WH0 <3ed Each OTHEr $ooooooo much. THEh 1 day the gurrl w@$ finded de@d frm bEIng too UGLY. shE de@d 2 h0lE day alre@dy. Her b0yfriiiend finded her and he cryyy. The NXT d@Y, theee e Gurl w0ke up in the h0spit@l and scre@amd, ‘wher my bi@tch @?’ and The NursE told her th@t h don@t3 his n05e and h@ir to Bring her b@ck. The guurl cried that h3 di3ed n then cri3ed ev3nm0re bc n0w sh3 l00ked like a r@t. LMS if you believe in tr00 luuuurve.”

I literally twitched as I finished. What the hell did I just write? It took me fifteen minutes to write that piece of crap? It hurt my eyes to look at it further, so I quickly exited the Facebook and shut down my computer, shuddering. I hope I never have to do that again.

:::x:::O:::x:::

School was hard. No, not academically wise, but the avoiding-Holly-and-Uran—Trent-Liam (though, he was still avoiding me so it wasn’t hard) part. I liked to call it the AHUTLTHWSAMSIWTH part for short.

I basically had to shove my head into my locker when Holly greeted me so I wouldn’t have to see the disappointed look on her face. I even had to start coming to every class late so Holly wouldn’t sit next to me. I felt awful and a disgrace to the people-who-have-a-conscience community.

Ur-Trent had given me a few looks of curiosity at the beginning of week, but that was it.

Liam, who I haven’t talked to in two weeks, grew even more separated from me. He wasn’t here for half the week. Okay, I was a little concerned about him, but I had a vow to keep. I could always ask Kurt to find out for me anyways.

“Rena, are you okay?” Kurt asked seriously as I squeezed myself into his car, ready to leave school.

“Um, yeah, why?” I asked, curious at why he was questioning my well-being.

“You’ve been avoiding your friends.”

“I didn’t have any friends in the first place,” I lied.

Kurt gave me a look that implied that he wouldn’t start the car unless I cooperated in his little interrogation.

“Okay, so many they were my friends,” I agreed, but I also added, “Were being the key word.”

“What’s wrong with you, Rena?” my brother asked bluntly, glancing at me with pity. “You finally get friends and then you throw it all away and for what? A stupid fat suit and a wall slandering your good name?”

“Kurt, I am in no mood to discuss this with you,” I said abruptly and looked straight forward, refusing to meet his harsh gaze. He looked so angry . . . over something that wasn’t even his own business. “Why can’t you just drive us home and cool off with a can of good ol’ Dr. Pepper?”