Here the Whole Time - Vitor Martins Page 0,27
like being observed. I’m embarrassed by how you might see me, and that’s why I can only open up in the dark. You see? I am officially weird,” I say all at once, with a little laugh at the end.
But Caio doesn’t laugh.
He takes some time to process this information, and he looks ready to get up and leave the room at any moment. I don’t want him to go. I want him to be here with me.
But then he asks, “Why are you embarrassed?”
And since I have nothing else to lose, I give the truth another go.
“Because I’m fat.”
It’s done. The word is out. The same way things changed when Caio said, “I’m gay,” things change when I say, “I’m fat.” Because fat is the kind of word people try to hide, no matter the cost. Everyone says “chubby” or “big boned,” but never “FAT.” Fat is a word you can never take back. When you declare something, even if it’s obvious to everyone already, it becomes real.
Caio takes a deep breath and, once again, seems to be choosing his words carefully. In general, that annoys me. It’s really bad to be the person who always has to wait for an answer because other people are being careful with their words. I feel fragile, and I hate feeling that way.
“You shouldn’t be ashamed of being who you are.”
I take a deep breath so I don’t say, “Easy for you to say when you’re skinny, Caio.” I hold back because I know he’s only trying to help.
Anyone else might have advised me to lose weight. I’m so tired of listening to diet tips I never asked for or exercises I don’t want to try. Caio could have acted like everyone else. But it makes me happy to know that he’s not like that.
We remain quiet for a while. My mind goes back and forth between the relief of putting it all out there and the ridiculousness of needing to hang a blanket over a window in order to tell the guy I like that I’m fat.
Luckily, my mom walks through the front door, calling my name. I run to open the bedroom door and step out of the darkness. Caio is right behind me, and we spend the rest of the afternoon pretending like nothing ever happened.
One thing you need to know about my mom is that she’s totally obsessed with cable TV. She’ll watch anything: cooking shows, documentaries about animals, bizarre reality shows, and shows about hoarders. I don’t complain because I love it, too.
A while ago, she came up with themed nights, like Culinary Mondays (when the two of us would cook together), Stylish Thursdays (basically, laundry day), and Décor Saturdays (when we’d try to put all the decoration tips we’d learned into practice, using only materials that we had at home, and obviously it all turned out hideous). None of the themes lasted very long. Except Musical Wednesdays. Contrary to what the name might suggest, Musical Wednesdays are not for karaoke (which wouldn’t be an awful idea). My mom discovered she loves musicals after she watched Mamma Mia! for the first time, and ever since, we’ve watched one musical every week, always on Wednesdays. Thanks to that, I’ve found a lot of incredible movies, and some not as incredible. (Did The Sound of Music really need to be three hours long?)
If you’re wondering what my favorite musicals are, fear not! I have the list ready:
The Wizard of Oz (1939): One of the best classics of all time. Besides the really fun songs, it has everything a good story needs: friendship, a strong lesson, and witches.
Les Misérables (2012): My mom hated it, but I couldn’t care less. This movie is amazing! I cried from the beginning to the end. I fell in love with all the characters who basically sing their every line. Les Misérables serves as proof that Hugh Jackman is the hottest man in the world, even when he’s covered in mud from head to toe.
Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954): This movie tells the story of a woman who marries a guy to escape her hard life as a cook at a bar. The guy is good-looking, and he has a nice beard and a house in the hills. When she gets to said house, she finds out that the handsome man has seven lazy brothers, and they all expect her to cook, do the dishes, and clean the house. But, of course, she doesn’t!