Chapter 5 - the fat daughter

"Do you really think you should be wearing that?" Your mother says, making you second guess your outfit choice. You can hear the judgment dripping from her voice. Of course, she never used to talk to you like this. But then again, you never used to be fat.

It's hard to blame what happened to you on genetics. Your mom is still in perfect shape. You, however, have really let yourself go. Ever since you left her watchful eye, food became your comfortable blanket. Food relaxed you, made you happy when you were sad, and turned into your go-to reward. You also forgot to stay active without your mom around to nag you. In no time at all, you went from skinny to chubby to fat. You're still adjusting to your much softer body. Your mother hasn't accepted the new you yet.

"What's wrong with my dress?" You ask meekly. You've been trying to be less self-conscious, but your mother finds a way to tear down any confidence you've been trying to build up.

"Honey.. with your figure, it's not a good look." She says as if her words are gospel.

You begin to believe your mom, blushing, knowing you don't have any other dresses that fit you at the moment. Even with your shapewear on underneath, the dress hugs your wider hips, plump thighs, and flabby waist in a tight embrace. It would help if you went shopping again. Yet, you haven't told your mom that you've started going to plus stores. Long gone are the days when she used to take you shopping at designer clothing stores with her or when you used to be able to borrow her old clothes. Back then, you and your mom were practically the same size.

While your mom criticizes your wider figure, you can't help but notice the dress she's wearing. It's one of your old dresses that used to be your favorite. You've long outgrown it, but it looks like your mom has adopted it to her wardrobe. She shouldn't wear a dress like that out at her age, especially given you're only going out to meet family friends for lunch with her. Yet, with your father out of town, you know she's fishing for attention. Like mother like daughter, you used to be a bit of an attention seeker too, when you used to be that skinny.

"You know that boyfriend of yours is going to lose interest if you keep ballooning up." Your mother scoffs, disappointment in her eye as she sees you adjust your tight dress. She doesn't know. You don't think she'll understand. The beauty standards she grew up with are a relic of the past. Modern men's tastes are different these days.

Despite your insecurities about your fatter body, you've been doing relatively okay in the dating world. Perhaps notably less attention than you used to get, but your new boyfriend is different. You haven't quite been with anyone quite like him. You've seen pictures of his exes; they're all big girls like you. You don't want to draw conclusions about him, but you wonder if he'd even be with you if you hadn't gained so much weight. Part of you wants to ask him if he's a chubby chaser, but you're too timid about broaching the subject. It's unfamiliar territory for you. You haven't been a big girl for very long and there is a bit of naive innocence that comes with that.

As you walk into the restaurant, you notice the extra sway in your mother's step as a group of guys walks by. They notice her. They don't notice you. Part of you thinks your mom enjoys having a fat daughter to stand next to. Like she's enjoying being 'the hot one' again and reliving her youth. The contrast between you two is palpable. Other than the obvious similarities a mother and daughter would have, you've eaten yourself into a body that makes people raise an eyebrow when you mention you're related.

"Aren't you on a diet?" Your mother loudly exclaims after you dare to order something that isn't a salad. Everyone at the table is looking at you, so out of pressure, you change your order to comply. You wonder when would be a good time to sneak off to the bathroom and eat the few candies you have hidden in your purse. A salad can hardly satisfy you these days. If you complain enough when you get home, you're sure your boyfriend will order you a pizza.

After lunch, you hug your mom goodbye. She does the same thing every time, now that you're fat. Diet fads she's heard about get mentioned, and gyms she wants you to go to are brought up. You just nod and smile and pretend you're going to make an effort. It's easier not to make an effort. She gives your figure one last invasive look before you two go along your way. It's a forlorn look of dissatisfaction etched on her face that you've gone and gotten so incredibly overweight. Someday your mother will have to accept that she has a fat daughter.