Dear Journal:
I forgot to mention that Michelle’s boyfriend, Sean, broke up with her. That’s why she was crying in the bathroom.
At first, I couldn’t understand why she was so upset. It’s not like they were together long, or he was some great catch. He was cute, sure, but so were all her boyfriends. I rarely heard her talk about him, and when I did, it was usually a derisive comment about his noisy car or greasy hair. Heck, just a few weeks ago, I heard her tell Mom that she was sick of dating High School boys.
But then I remembered the timing. It’s a dick move to dump someone right before prom, even if that someone is my sister. Of course, I lost most of my sympathy when I realized sissy’s tears weren’t lamenting lost love but rather inconvenience. Michelle wasn’t losing her Mr. Right; she was losing her means to an end. Sean was little more than a vehicle she intended to use to reach the perfect prom visions dancing in her head.
Then there’s the fact that HE broke up with HER. I don’t think that’s happened to my sister before. Ever since she started dating, she’s been the one calling the cum-shots.
Not anymore, apparently.
Of course, things worked out for sissy because they always do. Another guy, Chip Larson, invited her to prom at the 11th hour. I can’t get a guy to talk to me, but sissy apparently has a line of understudies waiting in the wings.
Still, I take solace in the fact that Michelle’s prom was far from the Disney-esque ending to High School she probably envisioned. Well, it was a little Disney-esque, just not in the way she intended. Chip was no Prince Charming, but he was goofy and short enough to be a dwarf. OK, that’s harsh. He’s probably 5’7” or 5’8”, but I was used to seeing sis with jocks north of six feet, so the contrast was stark. It didn’t help that she was wearing heels and he was in flat black dress shoes without much sole.
The heels were the one part of sissy’s original outfit that still fit. (I guess her feet haven’t kept pace with the rest of her.) She ended up wearing this sleeveless, lavender-colored dress with a deep V-neck and a flowing skirt with sequin accents. It looked vaguely familiar.
“Is that yours?” I asked Mom when Michelle went to greet Chip upon his arrival.
She nodded. “I wore it to Grace’s wedding.”
Grace is the daughter of my Aunt Kim, my mom’s older sister. She got married in Dallas last year. It was a traumatic time for me, so I didn’t go. (Thank God, because I had nothing to wear.) It turned out to be traumatic for sissy, too. Rumor has it that she made out with a handsome boy at the reception who turned out to be a distant cousin.
Mom leaned over and whispered to me as Michelle returned with her date, “When I was at my heaviest.” I shot her a glance, but she was already oohing and aahing over the handsome couple.
I watched as Mom helped Chip pin his corsage on Michelle. She’d lost some serious weight! She was wearing new jeans, which should’ve been my first clue. (She’d mostly worn sweats and stretchy Capris the last few years.) They looked good! She still had some junk in the trunk, but it was well-packed and filled the denim confines to the brim but not beyond. The navy-blue blouse cinched into the waistband wasn’t new, but she usually wore it untucked to hide her muffin top. Now, there was nothing to hide.
She’s probably lost a good 20 pounds. I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed. I guess I’ve been so caught up in the weight issues of my sister and me that Mom’s slipped beneath my radar. Of course, moms tend to go unnoticed and unappreciated in general. How sad is it that moms, even ones as attractive as my mother, end up like wallpaper you hardly pay attention to?
I’m sure sissy hadn’t noticed either. She basically shooed mom away as soon as she was done assisting Chip, not wanting anyone to intrude on her big moment. If she was humbled by having to wear her mom’s “fat” dress to prom, it certainly didn’t show. (As an aside, I could tell by the way Chip’s eyes kept darting down Michelle’s V-neck as he fumbled with her flowers that he planned to pin more than just a corsage that night. Hopefully, he needed a little less help with that.)
Anyway, after posing for a flurry of photos, Michelle headed for the door with "Sleazy," the 8th dwarf, and the family in tow.
“You look really nice, sissy,” I said as they posed for a few final photos beside a black limo they were sharing with another couple. I even took a few myself. I may put them in a “before and after” scrapbook someday.
She did look nice. Her hair was swept up in a Ballerina Bun (the irony of which, at her new weight, wasn’t lost on me) and her well-applied make-up hid her recent breakout (save for a few pimples that bubbled beneath her concealer like moguls on a snow-swept hill). The dress itself was flattering. It cinched sissy’s thickened waist, and the sequined skirt cascaded off her widened hips like a waterfall. The only place it looked tight was in the bust, but I’m sure sissy didn’t mind that. I know Chip didn’t.
“Thanks,” she said to me as she piled in the back. Then she rolled down the tinted window and waved as mom and dad waved back. “Bye!” she yelled as the limo drove away, her youthful enthusiasm belying her otherwise regal bearing, as did the flesh jiggling beneath her bicep.
I didn’t see sissy again until the next day…and she didn’t look nearly as good at that point!
More to come…
--Jessie