Member-only story
I Posed Nude For My Friend’s Photoshoot and She Called Me Fat
Here’s the question I have for you: Why do we care so much?
I met Veronica in junior college. Ivory-skinned and dark-lipped, she’d waltzed into advanced improv wearing a burgundy gothic gown, pointed chin held high, and waist-length brown waves swinging in a delicate arc against her back.
It’s important to note that, even without knowing Veronica, I could tell she took a lot of pride in being slender, and more power to her. I was obsessed with her lady Macbeth vibes.
Veronica wasn’t the nicest girl, but I followed her wherever she went (being “friends” while young can be so strange, can’t it?).
We’d sit in the quad or at one of the more visible tables in the cafeteria, and I’d listen to her brag about the “art gallery” her boyfriend owned in the basement of his dad’s bar where she and some friends still in high school would get together to have painting parties and roll on E.
