Sicker than Others.
When I was just finishing middle school, I was very meticulous about my appearance. This was complicated as a fat girl. However, I had discovered in the pages of Seventeen magazine the joys of camouflage. This included spending hours on my nails. I would try all sorts of combinations of wet n wild eye liners, eye shadows, and Bonnie Bell lip smackers. I would spend my free time combing the malls for just the right outfit, the one that would make people like me. In the mean time, I always carried gum or candy in my purse so people would have a reason to talk to me. It is hard to believe that it wasn't too much later than I was sleeping on a mattress that was pulled from the garbage. It was complimented by other scores. I had a recliner someone left for the trash man, a mirror left outside a retail place, and a trashcan that became my vomitorium. As I crawled deeper into the bottom of a spoon, I prayed there would be someone to love me at the other end. Would someone come and res