it’s only because of that that I can have what I want now. When you get older, things change. You’ll see. It’s not uncommon for women to find their ideal weight when they’re in their fifties and sixties. So don’t give up.”
Is she serious?
“Don’t give up?” I say. “Mom, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t count calories anymore. I watch what I eat in a roundabout way but if I want a cookie, I’m going to have a cookie. And I’m fine with that.”
“Irene, are you harping on your daughter again?” my dad shouts from the kitchen. “She’s going through heartbreak again, be nice to her.”
I raise my brows and look at my mom like, yeah be nice to me.
But my mother just raises her chin, right away going on the defense. “I am being nice. I care about you sweetheart, that’s all this is. I worry for you.”
“Why? I’m a size twelve! I’m not obese! And even if I was, who are you to say whether I’m healthy or not! I don’t have health problems other than the fact that I was hit by a truck when I was little and I had to learn how to walk again and I have scars and pins and rods all over my fucking body!”
She flinches like I’d slapped her. “You don’t need to yell. We all know what happened to you. But you can’t use that as an excuse.”
“An excuse for what?”
She throws her hands out. “I don’t know, this,” she says gesturing to me. My eyes go wide. “Whatever you’re doing that makes all these men leave you.”
I gasp.
NO.
“What did you just say?” I ask, the words coming out as sharp as daggers.
She swallows, hesitating. “Look, sweetie. I love you. But this is the second relationship in a row that you’ve let burn to the ground. What can I say? Both Cole and this Padraig fellow were rich, handsome and respectable men and both of those relationships ended. You’re obviously doing something wrong, something that puts them off. Sooooo … maybe it’s your weight.”
I can’t even believe it.
I should believe it, but I can’t.
The fucking nerve.
She goes on, “I mean, have you seen most women your age? They’re at the gym all the time. You never go. They watch what they eat. You never do. Now, I know you can’t wear high heels because of your feet, but you could try dressing a little sexier too. Don’t you see, there are ways to improve yourself? Just try them out for once and maybe you’ll be able to change. I believe in you. I believe that you can do it.” She smiles at me.
The worst part of this is that the smile is genuine.
She actually believes all this shit.
“I think I’m fine the way I am,” I say, my words barely audible, the anger rising up through me like molten lava.
“She’s fine the way she is, Irene,” my dad says harshly as he comes over.
She spots the wine and reaches for it but he holds it back. “I’m not giving you this until you apologize to your daughter,” he says, meaning business.
This makes my mom’s hackles go right up. “Why should I apologize to her? It’s not my fault she’s like this.”
“Like what?” I ask. “Just say it. Just call me fat if that’s on your tongue because I’m okay with that. It’s just a word. It doesn’t mean anything bad unless you make it bad. The word fat doesn’t define anyone and it certainly doesn’t define me. It’s a word that’s not worth anything.”
She gives me an apologetic smile. “It’s worth something when your men leave you to find someone else better.”
FUCK. THIS.
“You know what?!” I erupt at her, my words screeching out of my throat. I start unbuttoning my coat and then toss it to the ground.
“Are you getting ready to fight me?” she asks in shock as I start pulling off my sweater. “Is she going to fight me, Dave?”
“I am sick and tired of this!” I yell, throwing my sweater to the ground and then taking off my shirt underneath until I’m in my bra.
“Valerie,” my mom scolds me, hand at her mouth as she eyes my bra. “What are you doing?”
I start pulling off my leggings and then slide off my boots and socks until I’m standing there in my bra and underwear in front of my parents. “This,” I say, pointing to my body, right there in all its scared and chubby