OCD, the Dude, and Me - By Lauren Roedy Vaughn Page 0,15
in a back bleacher being totally enamored of Jacob’s charisma. That’s the thing about him I can’t escape. I, like everyone else, am pulled in by his charisma.
When the bell rang to signal the end of the rally, he couldn’t shake the line of kids running behind him. And even though I physically veered away from his devotees on my way back to class, every other part of me was following his trail.
*MARV MISSIVE* 12/16
Letter #2 from me to Marv after I see him at the nutrition break and he asks again if I would consider simply writing down some things I think about.
(Marv, that’s really vague. But I do it, and this is what he gets.)
Marv,
Recently I have thought about how difficult it is to go through life fat. My thoughts may be because the holidays are coming and my mom bakes like a fiend this time of year, and I have no willpower to resist her treats. Being fat is far more difficult than being a woman, or a member of an ethnic underclass, or a paraplegic, or a midget. I say this, not to diminish the difficulty of those minority groups, but to highlight the fact that those poor people can’t help their positions, and so people cut them some slack.
When you are fat, people assume it is your fault. And even if it is, why does it have to matter so much? Ancient Samoans had it the best because the bigger the woman, the hotter she was. Los Angeles is no ancient Samoa, let me tell you. In this city, I’m a painful reminder of what the svelte could become should they neglect their pilates classes and regular plastic surgery appointments. On this campus that is so lovely, (seven perfectly painted Spanish-style stucco buildings, fifteen large transplanted trees, forty-five shrubs, eighty-four rosebushes—that’s right, I counted—one guy constantly leaf blowing the place) I’m a real eyesore.
Lately, I’ve just been thinking about how much it sucks to be fat. Thank God it’s winter and I can hide under some layers.
Danielle
*AUNT JOYCE E-MAIL* 12/16
E-mail #1 to Aunt Joyce, who I just desperately need to help me
Dear Aunt Joyce,
I know you are in New York on business and I know you are really busy, but I really need to talk to you about something, and I’m hoping you can just find time to read this and then give me advice that rescues me like you have always done.
I am hopelessly in love with someone I will never have. Don’t even think about writing back with a phrase that starts “Oh, Danielle, you don’t know that you’ll never have him.” Trust me, and just regard my awareness enough to know that he will never love me. And, by the way, he has a girlfriend, and the point isn’t that he won’t love me, the point is that I love him, and I wish I didn’t and I don’t know why life gives you these feelings that can’t be reciprocated or acted upon. What the hell?
I don’t want to talk to Mom about this because I can tell when she looks at me she still sees me like I’m eight, and I just don’t want advice designed for an eight-year-old. Also, I’m just not sure Mom understands pain, and, don’t take this wrong, but somehow I think you do.
Please just take these feelings I have, work some magic with them, and give them back to me in a way that is more manageable.
Your dorky niece, Danielle
*AUNT JOYCE E-MAIL* 12/16
E-mail #1 from Aunt Joyce, who always responds when I need her to
Ah, Sweet, Sweet Danielle,
How blessed you are to know love in this way, and you just so happen to be revealing it to me near the holiday that symbolizes miraculous birth. Your literary mind surely sees the significance. This is the emergence of great hope.
You feel love! That’s terrific. Come on, girl. Look back a few years. Did you think you would thaw enough to let feelings of this sort foment? This is the magic of love. I know you wonder how I can speak with such authority while I remain single and childless, but those facts are not reflective of the true experience of love. Marriage and children do not always follow love. The feeling is the gift itself, so think about that. Look at how something so invisible can have such powerful effects. Doesn’t that say something to you about the nature of reality? Perhaps all is not as you