Kristina Nungaray

FROM THE MINORITY BORDERLANDS OF RACE, GENDER, AND BODY SIZE: SELECTIONS FROM FAT GIRL, SKINNY GIRL

Learning Commentary

            The definition of minority is variable, but is exemplary of a struggle between one group with defining characteristics that differ from the dominant culture. In the dominant-minority relationship, the dominant culture possesses more power, rights, or opportunities than the minority population.  There exists a variety of minority groups characterized by central features such as ethnicity, gender, and sexuality. Minority populations are created through social constructs that serve as our systems of knowledge, and we incorporate this knowledge as truth. Eve Sedgwick uses the term “knowingness” for our social systems of knowledge (215-51). Therefore, these “truths” that we impose on the minority group are ideas that have been reinforced by society (Sedgwick 215-51). We use this social knowledge to identify ourselves and locate others within a hierarchical social framework. In this paper, I introduce some chapters from a creative novel in progress, to examine the role of race and gender in the creation of a double minority identity, and argue for the inclusion of obese body size as a minority category.

            The work that I am sampling from was developed for the purpose of this course, and is titled Fat Girl, Skinny Girl.  It is a novel-in-progress, and I have selected two chapters that illustrate the argument that obesity is indeed a minority status, and that gender, race, and body size are not mutually exclusive but rather overlap to form a multiple minority status. Fat Girl, Skinny Girl is a young-adult story about two girls, Elena and Mischa, who are navigating their way through their first year in high school. Elena is a Mexican-American female who is overweight and is searching to gain a voice and a place in the social hierarchy of her school. Her character is juxtaposed with Mischa, a White privileged female who is physically fit. The book provides the reader with Elena’s and Mischa’s perspectives as they transition to high school, a new social frontier, and struggle to come to terms with their identity.  I chose to set this story in a young-adult population, specifically a high school setting, because high school cliques and social hierarchy function like a miniature society in which there is a dominant culture (i.e. the popular students) and  several minority cultures (i.e. the band nerds) (Robbins 3-44).

What Role Does Gender and Ethnicity Play?

            One consequence of being a minority is the silencing of the minority voice and removing the freedom of choice by imposing standards or obligations that the minority group must abide by.  In Western culture, these implications can be seen in both ethnic minorities and females. In Fat Girl, Skinny Girl the character of Elena identifies as both Mexican-American and female. Born in the United States, her ethnicity is not a direct source of conflict; however, it serves as another element that interacts with her gender, and body size to create multiple-minority.  Elena can be seen in juxtaposition to her mother, who comes from a more traditional background.  Her mother imposes, even if unintentionally, her desires for her daughter to lose weight so that she can eventually find a good Mexican man to marry. Elena feels bound by this duty to be a good daughter to her mother. Therefore, Elena’s ethnicity is just one more characteristic that makes her more of a variant from the dominant culture.

            Being marked by a position in which one has no voice and no choice reduces the minority group to be an object to the dominant culture’s subjectivity. Although she is Elena’s white foil, this notion can be seen throughout the character development of both Mischa and Elena. Mischa’s minority status lies in her gender role, and although she is White, thin, and part of the dominant culture her voice is silenced because as a female she is made into an object. Her representation of selfhood breaks down to nothing more than her body, which becomes the object that not only represents her but can be used against her. It has been noted that “women’s eating has been the focus of social and cultural attention to a far greater degree than masculine eating habits,” reinforcing the constraints of gender (Dennis 120).  At one point in Chapter Six, Mischa remarks that it would be easier if she was boy, recalling that her male counterparts could at least be funny or quirky and are judged by much different standards than simply their body shape.

How Does ‘Fat’ Qualify As A Minority Category?

            The issue of body size, specifically bodies that are obese or ‘fat,’ as a minority category is more complicated. The fat body is a difficult subject to define, approach, or qualify. However, like ethnicity and gender, body size can serve as another permeable borderland that can ultimately comprise and even compromise one’s self-identity.

            The physical body serves as the representation of who we are, and just like cases in which a person’s worth was once determined by their skin color, or their role was defined by their sex, body size is a physical marker that can be used by society to assign a value of worth to, thus creating a dominant-minority hierarchy. Samantha Murray, a cultural scholar who researches the ‘fat’ female body, argues that society reads the fat body, letting the individual know that they are defective (“Corporeal Kowledges” 363). Incidentally, she argues that, “society knows the [fat] body as a site of undisciplined flesh and unmanaged desires” (“Doing Politics” 265). This is no different than African-Americans being compared to beast-like animals (i.e. chattel) because they differ from the dominant-culture in skin color.

            The emphasis on the physical characteristics of the human body places the ‘fat’ individual in a context similar to the subject-object dichotomy, and forces them to be considered the other to the dominant culture’s self. Murray argues that “the assumptions made about fatness are that the fat person is lazy, weak-willed, unreliable, unclean, unhealthy, deviant, and defiant.” (“Doing Politics” 266).  Any attribute that marks an individual or group as a “deviant” leaves room for the unjust treatment of the minority group by the dominant culture. Socially constructing the fat population as a minority category serves as a mechanism for voice silencing, another consequence of being a member of such a group.

            In Fat Girl, Skinny Girl I try to illustrate this self-other dichotomy as a consequence of body size, in a high school population that functions as a representative of Western social hierarchy. Elena is a character who is ignored, taunted, pushed past, and bullied with her obesity being the object of discourse.  Elena presents the reader with a character who “feels like she doesn’t make logical sense.” She is a character who feels like she would have a “winning personality if someone would just listen.” Elena is an example of the other, and while she acknowledges that her body is hard to miss, she is still very much removed from the dominant culture in her high school, unless she is being ridiculed by them. She, therefore, not only functions as an individual that is other, but as one without a voice to express herself or speak to her own identity. Incidentally, Mischa serves as an antagonist to Elena because she is thin, and she can still be part of the dominant culture. However, Mischa presents as an illustration of how permeable these minority borders and categories are and how easily they overlap. She constantly transitions between self and other in the book.  Although she is part of the dominant culture, her body size can still be used against her. As mentioned previously, her gender puts her in a position in which her body is objectified by both male and female peers, and, furthermore, it has been argued that “‘fatness’ is inherently gendered” (Kersh and Morone 165). This centralizes the female body as object. In Mischa’s case, her position in the dominant (popular) hierarchy is challenged as her body size is attacked by other students who are indirectly aggressive, saying things like, “well it isn’t that you aren’t thin. You just aren’t skinny.”  It is these types of attacks that cause Mischa to perseverate on her body size to the point in which it becomes pathological. She develops an eating disorder to avoid being “like the fat girl [Elena]” and to retain her spot in the dominant culture. This is a similar experience to a heterosexual male being challenged by being called homosexual; instead, Mischa’s position in the social hierarchy is compromised by being called fat, even though that is not the case. Consequently, because Mischa’s body is objectified, her body functions as her voice. When her body size is questioned, her voice is silenced. The notion that a ‘fat’ body can have such an impact, creating a socially constructed wedge between the dominant (thin) culture and individuals who are considered to be fat or obese, suggests that there is room for inclusion of the ‘fat’ body size as a minority.

Why ‘Fat’ + Femininity = Double Minority: The Role of the ‘Fat’ Body and Gender  

            Gender and body size overlap to create a double minority. For example, feminist scholars discuss how space is representative of female empowerment. The incorporation of open space suggests and need for a “constantly shifting perspective, and for a fusion of interiority and exteriority in a dismissal of traditional dichotomies” (Shands 21). In other words, space is a positive thing for females. It causes a shift in that border allowing them to reclaim their subjecthood through breaking through the fixed dichotomies. In Fat Girl, Skinny Girl I play with this notion of space, femininity, and empowerment, to show that the ‘fat’ body qualifies as a minority category.  For example, as Murray argues, “the fat body is maddening, it does not fit” (“Normative Imperatives” 213). Being obese, Elena’s space is constantly challenged as she finds out that she does not fit, resulting in a loss of character voice and power. She does not fit into desks, pants, and the dominant culture.  Mischa, as a thin girl, does not experience that loss of space as Elena does. Rather, she is described as commanding attention as she walks through the open hallways. The interacting nature of these two facets can be further exemplified in the novel by the fact that when Elena or Mischa’s space is compromised, their femininity is also at stake.

            It is clear that body size plays a role of crucial significance. Literary and feminist scholars assert that food in literature, such as works by Virginia Woolf , addresses the female’s expression of hunger which represents “all aspects of her personhood: physical, mental, and emotional” (Angelella 124).  The role of eating behavior and appetite then becomes a representation the cultural and social determinants of a woman’s position and indicative of her subjecthood and how she interacts with greater society.  In modern literature, food is still something that is used as an object to represent feminine empowerment, and this is established through the defiance of the dominant culture’s norm of females eating modestly and lightly.  For example, in Carter’s Nights at the Circus, she creates a female character that resembles the Bhaktinian grotesque through her healthy appetite. However, when she is viewed, she is perceived as a “horrific, devouring, female” (Angelella 121).  The implication of food’s relevance to body shape and culture helps place obesity in a minority spectrum. It is no wonder that there are movements for fat acceptance and “coming out” as fat.  This can be compared to a homosexual “coming out of the closest” and reclaiming their subjecthood. In Fat Girl, Skinny Girl, I use food as a literary device to represent the girl’s struggle with being labeled as ‘fat’ and, therefore, being labeled as other. Food plays a crucial role in Elena and Mischa’s identity. With body size being a crucial marker for a minority category it is no wonder why Mischa feels like choosing whether or not to eat is a battle of her soul.

Conclusion

            It is my hope to provide selections from a work-in-progress that will fit into a minority canon of literature, and further emphasize the ‘fat’ body’s addition as a minority category. Citing Graham, Murray argues that Western culture is comprised of lipoliterates, and that we “read fat for what we believe it tells us about a person” (“Pathologizing Fatness” 8). This “reading” of the fat body allows us to make assumptions about the individual’s moral character and health. This notion of a dominant thin ideal is so embedded in our society that scholars like Murray argue that “coming out” as fat makes no difference (“(Un/Be)coming Out” 271). The system of judgment remains intact creating a dichotomy in which there is a minority population and a dominant group.

            The end result of the creation of such a category is similar to any other minority group. They are rendered voiceless and are isolated as the other rather than the self. The creation of the ‘fat’ person’s identity is thus created in comparison to the dominant culture, and as the minority population they are subject to unequal treatment and disadvantage. It is crucial for such populations to be discussed in a literary context because, with all of the public discourse around ideal body size, the possible societal implications such as eating disorders, depression, and unfair medical treatment provide a grim outlook. The purpose of Fat Girl, Skinny Girl is not to endorse being too fat or too skinny. I am not writing to encourage either of the two extremes. Rather, I am making a statement that Western society is in itself often a culture of extremes, and any population possessing an extreme variation from the dominant culture is made into a minority group receiving unequal treatment. Therefore, the endorsement of an ideal body size places individuals who cannot meet that standard at a disadvantage and ultimately subsumes their identity.

FAT GIRL, SKINNY GIRL

            In the first chapter, the reader is provided with a look at Elena’s life. She is introduced primarily as female, but she is also a Mexican-American female. The reader is invited into her house in which they find a mother who represents a more traditional Mexican-American heritage, and speaks in a voice that is mixed between English and Spanish. Early in the book, the established relationship between Elena and her mother is introduced as a close one, but it is not without its tension. She is presented as a character who tries to live up to her mother’s expectations as a familial duty to honor all of the sacrifices that her mother made to raise her.  One of Elena’s most striking features is that she is three hundred and twenty-six pounds. She speaks about being hard to miss, but ignored all the same. This is indicative of a minority category because her voice is very much repressed or ignored, and when she finally gets attention, it is negative attention.

            Elena can be compared to Mischa, and in fact should be. The two girls present different paths that often intersect and even interact for the sake of comparison. For example, the second chapter is told from Mischa’s point of view, and the reader is provided with insight into her privileged existence. She is White, thin, popular, and clearly part of the dominant culture. Unlike Elena, her voice isn’t silenced; rather she commands attention as she walks the hallways as if it is a stage and all of the onlookers her audience. However, Mischa is not without minority status. She is female and therefore a gender minority. Although she is not ‘fat,’ Mischa’s body is objectified and becomes a cause of worry and frustration for her.  This concept is introduced in chapter two, but explored in later chapters.

CHAPTER I

BUT I’M NOT WEARING SKINNY JEANS

            There were clothes everywhere, pink blouses, green t-shirts, blue and purple tank tops and a heavy mix of jeans and capris, all thrown on the bed. Elena tripped over sneakers and sandals as she walked back into her tiny closet to find the perfect outfit for her first day of high school. There were hardly any clothes remaining in the closet, all that was left was a brown Martinez Family Reunion t-shirt and a couple pairs of jeans that she had outgrown years ago. Kicking a pair of flats out of the way, Elena sat on a desk chair taking in a moment to give the battlefield of misfit wardrobe singles a final once-over.

            She had gone back-to-school shopping weeks ago. Her mother had even taken a second job and opened up a new Visa credit account just for the occasion. But for some reason the outfits that she had tried on and purchased two months ago didn’t have the same wow factor that she remembered from the store. It was as if a completely different person had gone into a completely different store and tried on more fashionable ensembles and then dumped the loot in Elena’s closet. Each item looked like it had potential, just not on Elena. Then there was the sea of clothes that she had purchased and did not try on. Elena had never been a big fan of trying on clothes like the other kids in her school. Shopping was more like a dreaded chore where she would go and grab anything that she could find in her size just to get the job done. Trying on the clothes now made her realize the futility of her half-hearted efforts. Everything looked wonderful on the hanger, and completely terrible on Elena.

            This school year was supposed to be the start of something different; Cedar Falls High would be a place where Elena could reinvent herself. Even now in front of her full-length mirror, the concept seemed hokey to her. She imagined walking into the double doors of her new high school and as an imaginary chorus held that perfectly pitched ahh note she would transform into Barbie, with the perfect skin, a perfect smile, and a perfect tiny waist.

            She knew that event would never take place. Even her hair was in disagreement with a Barbie-esque transformation as everyone knows that girls with dark honey-colored skin and jet black hair should not sport platinum blonde locks. But still, it would be nice to transform into something, or someone with more potential. Elena thought to herself, high school is just a series of hallways and corridors for cliques and niches to form. But she couldn’t lie. She wanted to belong to just one and for once become a member of a group instead of always going unnoticed.

            It was as if Elena was a walking, talking, oxymoron and she felt like she just didn’t make logical sense. She felt like she had all the fashion sense of a young editor of Teen Vogue, but would never be able to pull off the looks. She felt like she could have a winning personality if someone would just listen, and most importantly she wished that she felt like she belonged somewhere. Anywhere. She wasn’t very tall at five feet four inches, but she wasn’t easy to miss at three hundred and twenty six pounds. A true-story eyesore yet always overlooked, Elena was the girl where no one turned their face to look twice.

            “Elena, quit moving so slowly! Mi’ja it is time to get going if you want to pick up breakfast. Andale.”

            She finally settled on a pair of black jeans and a paisley black and turquoise blouse with a turquoise camisole. She pulled on her pair of Hannah boots that she had spent the day before breaking in, and gave herself a final once-over in the mirror.

            She didn’t look so bad; her outfit wasn’t in poor choice and, thanks to her mother’s constant saving, it wasn’t cheap. She was having an excellent hair day with her new shaggy hairstyle, sported by such actresses as Jennifer Aniston and Lea Michele, which framed her face that, although chubby, toted a great canvas for amazing make-up. That was the extent of her positive self-talk, which may have worked if she even half believed what she was saying.

            She walked down the hallway and began putting items in her new handbag. “Mi’ja, don’t you think you should be packing a backpack?”

            She rolled her eyes in mock disgust, “Mom, backpacks aren’t exactly fashionably relevant.”

            “Por si? I thought that backpacks were part of school, ja? Backpacks plus books equals graduation? Or am I wrong?”

            Elena felt slightly sorry for her mom. She often felt that under the best circumstances her mother would fail to understand her. She had been matronly from a young age, and lost her own mother when her family came to the United States. She was raised by her strict father and spent all of her free time caring for her younger brother and working at the family tienda. Her years of youthful rebellion were practically nonexistent, ending in her marriage to Elena’s father.

            Elena’s parents were divorced; the entire process was a very ugly experience for everyone involved, and resulted in a swift transition from middle class to lower middle poverty for both Elena and her mother. However, Elena’s mom did everything she could to shield her daughter from the harsh reality that they had no money by working almost as many jobs as there were hours in the day. Elena’s mother was a strong self-sacrificing woman who loved her daughter dearly, but sometimes could not hide her sadness or her overall bitterness and resentment. Her father had the choice to abandon them, but Elena’s mom had the duty to stay. And because she had sacrificed so much for her daughter, she maintained high expectations for Elena’s success, happiness and best interests. Although, Elena was never sure that her mom knew exactly what was best for her, what made her happy, or how to talk to her about it.

            “I never understood girls wearing such tight jeans. What are they called Mi’ja? Eskinny? Not everyone needs to see the outline of your crotch,” said Elena’s mom giving her jeans an up-close analysis. By the looks of it, her first day of school outfit did not seem to pass the This-is-What’s-Best-for-Elena test.

            Elena was no stranger to this battle, and her wardrobe always seemed to be the casualty. She was constantly looking for clothing that appealed to her and met her mother’s approval. It was usually a lost cause, causing her mother to often make catty remarks. She often thought about how much easier life might have been in her three-hundred-plus-pound world if she felt some approval or sense of support from her mother.

            Rolling her eyes, this time with very real disgust, “Ma, I’m not wearing skinny jeans. These are just plain jeans! I don’t even own a pair of skinny jeans, and I hardly feel that my crotch area will be the most important issue on everyone’s first day of school.”

            Her mother made a sound that was between a snicker and a hmm. That was her way of sneaking in the last word indicating the absurdity of Elena’s statement.

            “Vamanos, Mi’ja. Let’s go, eh?” Her mother turned towards the door and Elena followed.

            In less than ten minutes, things were in full swing, and Elena and her mother arrived at the little taco place where they routinely picked up breakfast.

            The place was nothing fancy; quite the opposite, it was a pink disheveled hole in the wall. When Elena was younger, her father would take her here to get breakfast tacos on the weekend and add a piece of Mexican sweet bread to the order to make it a treat. After breakfast, they would go on one of their infamous bike-hikes, riding their bikes for miles around town. After her father left, Elena’s mother made the taco place part of their everyday routine to accommodate their daily schedule, and it no longer held the same special meaning to her.

            “Buenos dias, ladies! How are you today?” Hector, the owner of the taco place, always greeted them in the same way. He was a short man without a lot of hair and even fewer teeth, but he had a big mouth and an even bigger heart.

            “We are doing great today, Hector. Can you believe that today is Elena’s first day of high school?” Then her mother turned to face her and asked, “Mi’ja, will you go and place our order?”

            Elena walked up to the counter. She was so nervous about the day that she wasn’t sure if she was even hungry, but out of habit placed her usual order: one taco stuffed with potatoes, eggs, and cheese, and another taco filled with beef fajita meat and cheese sauce. She went over to the refrigerators and pulled out a bottle of Dr. Pepper and returned to the payment counter to find her mother already pulling out the two five dollar bills.

            “You’ll do great at school and make us all proud. You look very pretty today, and I bet you will make a lot of new friends.” Hector was always great at paying compliments, most likely because he knew that Elena and her mother contributed to about twenty-five percent of his business.

            As they turned to leave, they said their goodbyes, and Hector passed on a few more words of his not-so-sage wisdom, “Have a good day Elenita. Pero, answer me this. Kids today, boys y girls, with pants so tight they can’t even breathe, mis hijas, that is all that they want to wear. What are those pants called… skinny jeans?”

            Elena turned to correct him, but her mother quickly ushered her out the door.

            “Mom! I’m not wearing skinny jeans!”

            “Elena, it’s Hector. I would be more shocked that he knew the words skinny and jeans, let alone what they meant.”

            “But my jeans, do they look bad?” Elena gave her mom a searching look, but her mom quickly averted her gaze and got into the car. “Get in the car, Mi’ja, we’re going to be late.”

            In the long run, Elena just wanted her mom to be honest with her. She didn’t have close friends to “girl talk” with or get over dramatic second opinions from. More often than not, her mother provided her with unsolicited opinions and advice, but today didn’t seem like the day.

            They drove in silence for a couple of minutes, and then there it was, like a bucket of ice water on an already freezing morning. Elena’s mother offered her maternal two cents. “Mi’ja, I’ve been thinking, you have such a beautiful face. I think you could actually be pretty if you just took a little pride in the way you looked.”

            She didn’t argue with her mother. She didn’t have the energy, and it wouldn’t have made a difference in any case. Her mother kept droning on; Elena was only loosely listening and caught the highlights of her mother’s tirade: If you just lose some weight, how will you ever find a husband, and can’t you put on some make-up? Her mother broke into this song-and-dance often in an attempt to make Elena shed some pounds.

            Elena tuned her mother out. All she could think of was how this was not how she pictured her first day of school going. She wasn’t expecting magic, but she was hoping for at least some temporary break from imperfection. Elena would have gladly been the first to admit that she harbored low self-esteem for herself, and in many cases, others. She figured it was a typical trait of the teen years. The truth was that Elena did not like herself all of the time, but she never felt like she was the walking, talking garbage disposal of a mistake that her mother lovingly suggested her to be.

            Elena’s thoughts were interrupted as she fell forward when her mother applied the brakes. Suddenly they were parked outside of Cedar Falls High. She had grown up in Cedar Hills and had lived there her entire life. She was no stranger to the high school, and in fact passed it most days. However, today it seemed much bigger, and almost ominous. Today was altogether a different experience, one that allowed her to go inside the large white building modeled after a medieval castle.

            “I can’t believe you are starting high school Elena. Have a good day, and try to make a few friends, eh? After all, these are the memories you’ll have for the rest of your life.”

            “Highly insightful mom.” Elena hugged her mom and got out of the car. She was supposed to be in the school gym in fifteen minutes for the Freshman First. The Freshman First was a mandatory orientation program for all ninth grade students; it was a program developed by Ms. Holland, the school’s guidance counselor, to show all new incoming students that they were not alone.

            The intention of the Freshman Frist was to ingrain school spirit early on, give new students a chance to make new friends, and provide assistance to the lost, anxious and desperate.

            Elena didn’t know who Ms. Holland, the guidance counselor, thought she was kidding as she walked into the large gymnasium. There were large silver and blue banners draped over the basketball goals saying “WELCOME NEW KNIGHTS!” On the bleachers there were groups of students already assembled into former cliques. No one looked the least bit apprehensive.

            Cedar Falls was one high school of three in Cedar Hills. Most of the students attending Cedar Falls had gone through school together from an early age; therefore, social groups and stratification were already in place. Elena took a seat in the back and watched her new, and not-so-new, classmates compare class schedules and discuss back to school parties. She didn’t quite see where she would fit in.

            “Attention, students, please take your seats, and welcome to Cedar Falls High!” The principal of the school, Mr. York, was standing in the center of the gymnasium. Elena thought he resembled a turtle wearing a Donald Trump toupee. She decided that she felt sorry for him and his unfortunate choice of wardrobe: a seersucker pinstriped suit with a flamboyant button-down purple shirt. She wondered for a second if he ever had trouble fitting in.

            Mr. York began a diatribe on the merits of Cedar Falls High and ensured the students that their academic and social careers and futures were in the very best hands. Elena was distracted by a group of giggling girls as they flirted with a small group of guys wearing Cedar Falls football jerseys. Elena noticed the Zumi’s top on one of the girls that she had desperately tried to find in her own size; she couldn’t even find a close knock-off. Although the girls anxiously whispered and occasionally looked in Elena’s direction, it was as if they looked right past her.

            She imagined what it would be like to be one of those girls, laughing and joking around about the possibility of a date. She knew that those girls had no apprehensions about making friends, keeping friends, or fitting in. They had perfect hair, perfect smiles, and first day of school outfits to envy. She couldn’t help but assume that girls like that had no cares in their happy-go-cliché worlds.

            Elena couldn’t take her eyes off the girl in the middle; she easily seemed more beautiful than the rest. She had long blonde hair that framed her small, round face. She had eyes that looked too large for their canvas and provided her with an unconventional, yet haunting, beauty. Elena had known this girl since Kindergarten, and yet she didn’t really know her at all. Mischa Constance. It was apparent that the other girls shared her sentiment about Mischa’s beauty. Throughout the years, girls would try to emulate Mischa’s every sentiment, every wardrobe choice and hairstyle in an attempt to give them that special something, the one missing piece in the puzzle of perfection. They knew Mischa had it, and they would do anything to get it. Even now, the group of girls vied for Mischa’s attention and copied her every move. If Mischa laughed, they would laugh twice as hard.

            Elena couldn’t relate at all. She didn’t have friends, acquaintances, or even frenemies. It was as if Elena lived in an entirely different world or bubble within the realm of human existence that allowed her to watch everyone around her, but interfered with any interaction. It was like she was always looking through a window. She was well aware of what the bubble was, all three hundred and twenty six pounds of it.

            Elena’s thoughts were interrupted as her attention was once again turned towards the center of the gymnasium. Mr. York had been replaced by both the cheerleaders and the dance team, leading everyone in a pep-rally type of routine. Surrounding them were members of all the major sports teams dressed in their jerseys. It all looked very Stepford to Elena, as the girls did a choreographed routine to a Lady Gaga mega mix with tidbits of “Go Knights” sprinkled in. Even the female athletes from the volleyball and swim teams joined in the dance, as the guys cheered and clapped along.

            Maybe not Stepford, maybe more High School Musical, Elena thought.

            Then just like that, it was all over. After all of the school spirit that they could handle was shoved down their throat, they were free to go and make their way through Cedar Falls High.

            Everyone began filing out of the gymnasium similar to the way they came in. Groups of friends remained intact and outsiders were not allowed in.

            Elena waited for the majority of the gym to clear out before making her way to the exit. She sat on the bleachers thinking about the upcoming school year. Maybe she could make something of herself. Anything was possible. There were hundreds of students at this elite school; she could make friends. Feeling a small sense of hope, and anticipation of the year to come, she got up and headed for the exit. The new school year wouldn’t be so bad. She was going to lose weight and make friends, and maybe she would even join the ranks of popularity.

            Just then, Elena accidently dropped her binder and bent down to pick it up, causing her to clumsily drop her purse. The chain of events forced her to collide with a group of girls, and before she knew it, she came face to face with Mischa Constance. There was a look of pure disgust in her face.

            “God, can’t you watch where you’re going? Or can you at least control where you throw your junk?” Mischa snarled.

            It was a completely different side of the pretty, popular goddess Elena knew from a distance.

            The other girls soon joined suit, angrily urging Elena to move out of the way.

            “Thanks for making us late for first period,” she growled, although she hardly seemed concerned.

            The girls made their way around Elena in an exaggerated fashion and headed out the exit. They were almost completely out of the gymnasium before Mischa turned her head towards Elena and asked her rather loudly, “I really like what you’re wearing, but I thought they only made skinny jeans for skinny girls?”

            She turned around and laughed an ugly laugh with the girls giggling behind her.

            Elena was left alone in the gymnasium, her eyes welling with tears. All she think of saying was, “but I’m not wearing skinny jeans.”

CHAPTER II

YOU LOOK LIKE SOMEONE I USED TO KNOW

            Mischa fiercely stomped through the hallway with a group of girls at her side. The halls at Cedar Falls were long and narrow, inevitably making whoever was walking in the center, the main focus of attention. She could feel all eyes on her as her MiuMiu’s clicked through the hall, and even-though she could feel her legs and fingertips gently trembling during her parade, Mischa maintained her perfect poise and prayed no one could she how nervous she was.

            Mischa couldn’t remember the last time that she wasn’t worried about something, though if you were to ask anyone, they would say that she never seemed to have a worry in the world. She spent a considerable part of her existence maintaining a carefree façade, even though she rarely felt carefree.

            More than anything, she strove to maintain a sense of control in her life. The night before, she had meticulously pored over the materials in her closet for hours in an attempt to find the perfect clothes to wear on her first day of school. She recalled sitting at her makeup table trying hairstyle after hairstyle to find the most stylish look. She could picture the line of Sephora products next to her mirror as she mixed and matched the various hues as if they were pieces to the puzzle of a perfect face.

            In the end she picked a form-fitting sweater dress with a pair of black tights and coupled it with her Spartan sandals. She packed her Prada bag with all the appropriate materials and settled into bed a little after 1:00am. She said a small prayer that everything would go smoothly on her first day of school.

            Well, any chance of that was out the window, and it was all that fat girl’s fault, Mischa thought as she pulled the door open to her first class just as the late bell began ringing.

            Her first class of the day was Spanish, and she shared it with both freshman students and upperclassmen. When she stepped inside the classroom it appeared that her biggest fears were confirmed: she was the only one late to class. There were only a couple of empty chairs sprinkled in the mix, and once again all eyes were on her.

            Mischa could feel her cheeks reddening, but just flashed her award winning smile and said aloud, “Sorry I’m late,” and walked in to take her seat. She could see a couple of girls beckoning to her from one side of the room. She recognized them as girls from her old school and remembered making small talk with them at the occasional party and in the hallway. She took the empty seat next to them.

            Soon after she settled into her desk, she heard the classroom door open again, and couldn’t help but feel a little relieved that she wasn’t the only one that would be making a grand entrance. Whoever was walking through the door was now very late.

            She looked up at the poor kid who was probably just as mortified as she was walking head on to twenty-five smirks and pairs of eyes. After all, the instructor was already beginning the lesson. As she looked up, Mischa’s heart immediately started racing. The person walking into the room did not seem the least bit mortified, and no one was laughing as he walked into the room.

            Mischa couldn’t help but feel that his smile deserved a moment of silent awe. His eyes were grey, but she could see their sparkle across the room. He looked absolutely perfect, like he would be absolutely charming. She couldn’t seem to find a flaw on him, and that said a lot.

            She wasn’t proud of it, but that was her thing. Whether she knew the person or not, Mischa analyzed their every trait available to her, both physical and personality, and looked for their faults. For example, she noticed immediately that the girl that caused her to be late to class was clearly fat and toted small patches of acne that could only be caused by drinking too much soda and eating too much chocolate. She also had a really cute haircut but really dull hair that lacked shine due to a lack of water consumption. That was also her thing: she read health and fitness magazines religiously. While her friends giggled and dog-eared pages of Cosmopolitan and Seventeen, Mischa made workout binders and beauty binders out of the pages of Woman’s Health and Fitness.

            She wasn’t always like this. She wasn’t always a fitness- and health-obsessed individual who fixated on appearance to the point of being hyper-aware of the flaws of others. This behavior began around the age of eleven and coincided with her entrance into Junior High and the photo.

            From the age of five, Mischa had tried her hand at gymnastics. She eventually worked her way up to earning a spot on the most competitive and notorious team in the state. Not only had she gotten on the team, she was one of their rising stars. After a big competition the summer before her sixth grade year, an impressive article was written on the team, and it even highlighted some of the team’s strongest competitors, including Mischa. There were several pictures including one full team picture on the front page of the Cedar Hills newspaper.

            The team coaches were so excited about all of the hype that they held a party for all the gymnasts and their parents to celebrate a particularly successful season. Every table was garnished with stacks of their newspaper spread. “And Mischa Constance when asked what her favorite thing second to gymnastics was, simply replied ‘pepperoni pizza,’” chuckled a tiny woman with short blonde hair and a face that had an uncanny resemblance to a weasel.

            It was true, Mischa told the reported that she had a secret love affair with pizza, but she didn’t think it would be included in the write-up, not that it mattered much to her. Not until Mrs. Weasel made her next comment. “Well it’s no surprise dear, you’re one of the biggest girls on the team. Of course, you would have the biggest appetite.” She gave Mischa a sinister smile with her top lip curling over her teeth exposing her gums. Mischa still remembered it like it was yesterday.

            This response caught Mischa completely by surprise. No one had ever called her “big” before.

            “I think you mean that she is one of the tallest girls on the team, Mrs. Klein. It’s true she has a healthy appetite, but she needs to eat to keep her strength up for all of those gold medals. After all, she has been the top medal earner for the team for the last three consecutive years,” interjected Mischa’s mother.

            Mischa’s mother was an intimidating woman and carried herself in a manner that demanded respect. “Yes, of course, Dr. Constance,” Mrs. Klein mumbled before turning her attention back to her own daughter, Misty. Misty was a lot like her mother; she always had a very poor attitude and very little room to brag. Mischa knew her mother’s words came as a blow to Mrs. Klein because her daughter hadn’t even placed in the last three years, let alone won any medals. Still, something troubled Mischa. When they got home that night, Mischa poured over the photos in the newspaper article and fixated on her team photo. There she was in the center of her team, but she by no means looked like one of the tallest. Her mother was obviously covering, and Mischa couldn’t help but wonder if there was some truth to Mrs. Klein’s underhanded comment.

            She spent the entire night analyzing every photo of her, marking up each picture like a plastic surgeon would a consult, and in the end she decided that she could stand to lose some weight. Soon enough, she cut everything she ate in half and bid a bitter farewell to pizza. It wasn’t long before she toted very noticeable results; it spanned not only across the way she looked and felt but translated well into her athletic performance. She was so pleased with her results that she vowed to stay on top of her new found healthy lifestyle and remain in control of her body. Unfortunately, her new healthy lifestyle led to an unhealthy obsession with appearance.

            Mischa’s attention suddenly snapped back to reality when she heard the laughter and random joking from a group of guys across the classroom. “Come on, Jason, sit back here,” “Yeah Jason, we saved you a seat since you are mucho late-o.”

            The group of guys were all sporting their football jerseys. Cedar Hills was a town known for its football, and each school was extremely selective about their players. Attaining a spot on the football team was an instant catapult in social status, leaving them somewhere at the top of the pack of the social hierarchy. Jason’s smile gave away his excitement about seeing his friends.

            “Alright class, settle down. Mr. Scott, please take your seat,” Professora Sanchez, their instructor, smiled and turned back to the board. It was as if even she couldn’t help but like this guy, this Jason Scott.

            Mischa blinked twice, she recognized the name immediately. Jason Scott was an incoming freshman just like her, but unlike the rest of their incoming class, his name was known to every grade level, every coach, and carried great weight. He was supposed to be a great football star and lead their team to the state championships, which was a victory their school hadn’t won in four years.

            Mischa couldn’t help but follow Jason with her gaze as he passed her to go to his seat. He smelled like soap and water with a hint of another aroma that she couldn’t quite figure out, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he had a girlfriend.

            She was distracted by a stream of giggles. Her attention turned to a group of girls that were whispering and laughing . . . at her. She looked down at her desk, combed her hands through her hair and couldn’t find anything wrong. She turned back to the girls and all had turned to face the front of the classroom except for one girl. She was blonde, with big blue eyes and plush pink lips. She had an altogether unpleasant demeanor and was making a face like she smelled something rotting. It was Misty Klein! Mischa had not seen her since she was kicked off the gymnastics team the same summer their article came out. She had to admit it, Misty was beautiful, but she didn’t look any friendlier.

            “Don’t worry about her, that pinched face is just the bitterness since Jason broke up with her this summer” whispered the pseudo-friend sitting behind her.

            “Seriously, he dated that!?!” Mischa said a little too loudly. She quickly sank into her seat and she could feel her cheeks burning. That was also her thing, speaking before thinking of the consequences. Most people found it charming, but somehow she didn’t feel that this particular instance would be perceived the same way. She quickly looked to her side. Misty was facing forward, but clearly fuming. So much for a controlled, embarrassment-free first day of school.

            The bell couldn’t ring fast enough, and when it did Mischa stood up quickly and began her trek to her next class. Once again, she couldn’t help but feel like all eyes were on her. When she looked around the hall, there was a couple of people looking, but not in a negative way. Some looked at her approvingly, others intimidated, and others didn’t seem to care either way. There were a couple of girls at her side, asking her about the summer and whether or not she was going to any of the back to school parties. She smiled to herself, everything seemed just as it should be. The first part of the day seemed off to a rocky start, but now everything seemed fine.

            She walked into her Pre-AP Biology class and was still two and a half minutes early. The class was lined with big black laboratory tables rather than desks. Each table was occupied, but not fully. Just as Mischa looked for a place to claim, she saw a girl waving to her. Mischa didn’t recognize her, but figured she looked harmless enough. She was an attractive girl and well dressed, and was already sitting with two other girls and one guy. Everyone sitting at the table looked like someone Mischa could be seen talking to. She walked to their table and began setting her stuff down.

            “Oh, I’m sorry! I made a mistake. You looked like a girl I used to know. Sorry!” the overly-cheerful, overly-blunt, girl said. This confused Mischa: she wasn’t really invited to the table? The girl looked truly sorry and extended her hand. “My name is Barbie, and this is Shawn, Claire, and Kris. Of course you can sit down, sorry for the awkward invite.”

            Mischa sat down, “I’m Mischa.” She was relieved that they invited her to stay but a little weirded-out by the situation. She had never been accidently invited anywhere; rather, she was usually the first girl invited places, and the one girl everyone wanted to be around.

            She looked around the room and didn’t recognize anyone else, well no one she would want to socialize with. Besides, these guys seemed friendly enough, especially Barbie.

                “I really didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

            “Oh, I’m not embarrassed,” Mischa quickly replied, but she could feel her cheeks getting a little red.

            “Like I said, I confused you with a girl I used to know, but looking at you now, you two are pretty different. She is a little taller than you, and definitely skinnier. Not to say you aren’t thin…just not skinny. But it is really nice to meet you,” Barbie continued to banter on.

            Unfortunately for Mischa, she only focused on one part of that conversation. It was obviously time to lose weight.

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