Dear Journal:
The rest of the family met us at Michelle’s graduation. The ceremony was held in a small indoor arena at a nearby community college. Hopefully, sissy got a feel for the campus while she was there, because it’s probably where she’ll be attending classes if her athletic scholarship is revoked.
According to the scoreboard hanging from the ceiling, it was “Home of the Richland Roughriders.” Several banners lined the wall, indicating they were state champions in 1988, 1989, and 1993. Apparently, their glory days were long ago.
Sissy should fit right in!
Anyway, we had a pretty good cheering section in the stands. My Uncle Bill and Aunt Kim were there, the ones whose wedding I didn’t attend. (I wonder if Mom told Aunt Kim that she loaned the dress she wore for it to Michelle for prom?) So were my Aunt Nadine and Uncle Clyde, my Great-Aunt and Great-Uncle on my dad’s side, and a bunch of rugrat cousins whose names I can never remember.
Everyone whistled and hooted when Michelle’s name was called. She gave us a demure little wave as she slinked across the stage, then quickly returned to her seat.
And that was that.
I expected more, honestly. It’s not like I thought she’d do a flip or chest-bump the principal, which a few of the football players embarrassingly attempted, but it felt pretty anti-climactic for the school’s Queen Bee.
If she was worried about her appearance, she shouldn’t have been. Everyone looked fat in those gowns. I’m sure our extended family, save Grandma, who had seen Michelle that morning, figured the same sexy eighteen-year-old they’d seen at Christmas was beneath it.
It wasn’t until they came back to our place for a cookout that eyebrows began to raise.
I don’t want to make it seem like Michelle is some fat ass now. Hell, I’d still kill for her figure. But she’s put on a good 25 pounds since most of the family had seen her. They were going to notice.
Nobody said anything, at least not at first (or that I could hear), but the double takes after surprisingly squishy congratulatory hugs were unmistakable.
I got the same treatment, only in reverse. People kept staring at me with these inquisitive expressions, like they wanted to ask me a question, but couldn’t bring themselves to. I think they doubted their memories of me.
I don’t blame them. I know I’ve lost weight, but I’m under no delusions that I’ve had some miraculous “glow up” (despite what Dr. Chen says). I’m still fat. I’d need to lose at least 50 more pounds to reach the chunky territory my sister was entering. I got a few awkward smiles and “you look greats,” but I got those from family members even when I was at my fattest, so they didn’t count.
It wasn’t until mom and dad showed a slideshow after dinner that the family’s suspicions were confirmed.
Over the course of five minutes, we watched Michelle’s swan-like transition from butterball baby, to precocious tomboy, to High School hottie. It didn’t stop there, however. The last minute or so were recent photos, all from the last few months. There she was, looking thick in her soccer shots, plump in mom’s dress before prom, and fat in her graduation gown. As I mentioned, everyone looked fat in that thing, but it provided an exclamation mark to her dramatic last-minute blow-up.
That’s when someone finally said something.
Before I explain, I should point out that there were a few photos of me in the slideshow, too. Sissy was the star, of course (she always is), but mom probably felt guilty excluding me, so she threw in a few photos of us together: hugging as kids, being forced to hug as teens, and even a grudgingly posed one from earlier that morning.
As she grew up, I grew out. Until the last couple of photos, when I shrank as sissy swelled. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to see that I was basically the yin to sissy’s yang, weight-wise.
Even my drunk uncle noticed.
“You’ve lost weight,” Uncle Bill said to me after a lengthy goodbye hug. There was beer on his breath, and I hoped Aunt Kim would be driving them home.
I nodded. “A little.”
“Good for you.” Then he leaned in, his hot beer-breath tickling my ear. “Have you been giving your food to Michelle?”
I nodded again and returned his conspiratorial grin. Uncle Bill just laughed. I’m sure he thought I was joking.
And that was basically that. Oh, there was one final bombshell. It dropped when Michelle was opening her graduation gifts.
We’ll be cruising the Mexican Riviera next month!
--Jessie