He grabbed my nose and grinned, which I chose to interpret as full support.
“I’m done shrinking,”
The strangest part was how calm I felt.
For weeks I’d been fighting the mirror, hating the softness of my own reflection.
But Diane had accidentally shown me something.
A woman who mocked others that viciously wasn’t strong.
She was terrified.
She wasn’t guarding elegance.
She was guarding her hold on the little kingdom where everyone laughed on command.
She was terrified.
That night, she cornered me by the sink while I washed bottles.
“You seem tense,” she observed sweetly. “You’ve barely eaten today.”
“I’ve never felt better, Diane,” I said, and I meant it.
Something flickered across her face.
She didn’t like an answer she couldn’t wound.
“We’ll see how you feel in that swimsuit tomorrow,” she said, and swept out.
“You seem tense,”
I thought about how she’d measured herself against me every single day.
