A New Type of Curve

Chapter One

"Oh hell, I look like a whale in this dress." I looked up from my homework that was sprawled across my bed to catch the sight of my best friend fidgeting in front of the mirror.

I narrowed my eyes as I stared at her, her figure curvy under the loose flow of the gown.

"What are talking about? You look like a goddess." It was true, I wasn't making it up to satisfy whatever internal self-esteem monster was tearing at her insides. I meant it. She looked good.

The dress was black with a fitted top that flared out into a full skirt that landed at the floor, swishing against the hardwood of my room as she turned side to side. Lyndie was gorgeous in the "I'm a model" type of way. No shit.

She had thrown her dirty blonde hair up into a curly bun on the top of her head, and I had watched as she spent thirty minutes doing it, and then another twenty as she pulled wisps of hair out to frame her face. She claimed it made it look "effortless" but it took her an hour to do it when it was said and done. So I'd say it was the absolute opposite of effortless, but hey, whatever floated Lyndie's boat.

Her eyes looked like they were always halfway closed in sultry bliss - dark black orbs of "damn woman, you gorgeous." She had a round face, and porcelain skin that she spent hours, days, and years keeping up. It was actually really impressive.

So the fact that she thought she looked like, quote on quote, a whale - was crazy. Nuts. Stupid. Oi, you think my constant compliments in an attempt to help my best friend of fifteen years realize she really was beautiful would have made an impact. I guess when you go to a high school where the normal is a whopping 125 pound and no higher, Lyndie was bound to be concerned about her muscles and natural curves.

Oh what, did you think I was gonna say she was on the side of thick or chubby? N-a-h. She's a gymnast, which meant my girl's natural curves were bulked by well-defined muscles. And trust me when I say, I don't think I've ever seen someone make buff look like the next beauty craze. She was feminine in every way, and she rocked the hell out of it.

See, I'm the thick girl in this friendship group. Which I'm one hundred percent down with. Despite my thick ass, thighs, curvy hips, and - ahem - heavy bust, I was not insecure about it. Long story short, I grew up with a mother who had the same physique as me - which meant she made sure her daughter never felt bad about it. I'm eternally grateful to that woman for that, especially with social media trying to tell me otherwise.

I liked my curves. I liked my pale skin with eyebrows and lashes as thick as the meat on my thighs. It made me - me. And I wasn't apologizing to anyone about it, even if my school thought I should. Yeah. High school can be a bitch. Like a major, roaring, ass hat. But hey, I had the best friend group known to man, so it was definitely bearable.

Mmm, right, I should probably stop zoning and focus back in on Lyn as she continued to poke at her body. With a sigh, I slid off my comforter and slinked towards her. Her eyes caught my grey ones in the mirror, and she turned to me with a pout. 

"Reign..." She whined, crossing her arms over her chest. "Peter is going to hate it."

I sighed again, but this one was more for added affect to get across the idea that her statement was absolute bull. But don't worry - I voiced it too. 

"No way in hell is your boy going to hate anything about it, Lyn. I may be your best friend, so maybe it feels like I have to say it, but trust me, it's not. You are beautiful, and I wish you would believe me." Lyndie went silent, whether or not it was because she believed me was another story. She sighed.

"I know you're right, and that I'm just being hard on myself, but -." I slapped my hand over her mouth which caused her to look at me again. 

"Just leave it at that, okay? Please trust me." I said softly, my eyes imploring her to cave in. Her shoulders sagged, and she gave me a nod. I removed my hand and smiled at her.