Stay Kind

Jori

I rolled my eyes at my phone with a bit of a loud scoff.

Rose Johnson wants to be your friend.

I hit delete and then blocked her. Was it petty of me to still hold a grudge during my senior year of college for something that happened in high school? Probably. Did I care? Not one bit.

Call me the queen of grudges. I could hold ’em like nobody’s business.

My therapist said it wasn’t healthy, but my doctor also said my weight wasn’t healthy. Guess what? I didn’t care about either of their opinions.

I’d taken a long time to get where I was mentally. I’d been bullied all throughout elementary, middle, and high school for being bigger. Because of the bullying, I’d tried everything from dieting, over-exercising, throwing up everything I ate, and starving myself. Nothing had worked.

But you know what happened, what made me change my mind about my image? I got on social media—I know, awful place to be when you’re trying to escape bullying. But I found a group that uplifted women like me. They were all plus size—and not thick. They were actually plus-size women with big bellies, soft juicy thighs, and large ample chests. And they were showing off their bodies in pretty lingerie, their make-up done to the nines—just looking absolutely stunning.

And I realized there was nothing wrong with me. The only thing wrong was that I wasn’t embracing the girl I’d grown into. So what if I wasn’t a size two? My beauty wasn’t judged by my size.

So, when two girls cornered me in the bathroom during my senior year of high school, I didn’t back down like I normally did. I owned my weight and who I was. And then, I went home and learned how to flawlessly do my make-up. And then my grandmother—God rest her soul—had taken me shopping for a brand-new wardrobe so I could embrace my new image.

Turns out, no one talked crap about you when you weren’t ashamed of yourself. Being confident made everyone back off.

Confidence was key.

I even got asked to senior prom by one of the football players, and while I thought it would have been a prank, he genuinely wanted to take me. So, I’d let him. But I never dated him.

I never dated anyone I went to school with because even if they hadn’t joined in on the bullying, they’d stood by and let it happen. And I had no urge to be around those kinds of people, had no urge to entertain a single one of them either, not even for my own amusement.

I jerked my head up when a deep voice reached my ears, pulling me from my phone. “Seriously, it’s been four years, Vincent. Don’t you think it’s time to buy some new pants?” the guy taunted.

Angry, I jerked to my feet and stormed around the corner. I didn’t take kindly to bullying. Two big, buff guys were crowded in a thinner guy’s personal space. The guy was a bit skinny, his jeans clearly a bit old, worn, and stained with grass and dirt. His shirt wasn’t in much better condition. My heart hurt for him and the things he might be lacking. This was why I donated to local charities and thrift shops.

Not everyone was gifted with a trust fund from a dead grandmother and dead parents. I didn’t remember enough about my parents to miss them in particular, but I did miss having that mother and father figure in my life. I’d been an infant when they’d passed away in a car accident. My grandmother had been my parent all my life, and she passed away during my sophomore year of college.

God rest her soul. I missed her deeply every single day.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” I demanded to know, planting my hands on my hips.

One of them looked up, glaring at me. With a scoff, they slapped the guy’s books from his hands and walked off, laughing to themselves. Grumbling under my breath about how rude they were, I quickly rushed over to help the guy get his things off the ground.

“Here, let me help,” I said, crouching in front of him to help grab his books.

He snatched them from me, surprising me with the vehemence in which he did so. “You’ve done enough,” he snapped before he stood and rushed off without another word to me.

I frowned, my heart hurting for him. I didn’t take offense to his words. I knew how it felt to be on the receiving end of the crap he’d just dealt with. Even in college, people couldn’t seem to escape the bullying.

I sighed. I just wanted to help him.