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A size sixteen amongst what seemed like a world of size six and below.
A constant struggle to find clothes that fit while shopping at the
mall with friends that were considered to be "the norm" by
designers. Ask the woman at the register for a top in a bigger size,
get an odd look...and the response? "I'm sorry, but that's the
biggest size we have." Is there something wrong with this
picture? Stores that, for some demented reason, carry an extra-small,
yet no extra-large. And people wonder why teenage girls feel so
pressured to loose weight... It's simply because they have to in order
to fit into the clothing that was "in".
Last straw when a girl who's waist was about as big
around as her thigh was heard complaining that she was
"fat". Something snapped, she snapped...and fuse was blown
with the scrawny teen the one to receive the brunt of the blast in the
form of a flurry of yelled words. It had been one of her best
friends...
Everyone had loved Madison, she was kind to
everyone...soft spoken yet willing to voice her opinion should the
need be felt. Always the shoulder to cry on rather than the one to
cry. Always told she was "pretty," yet never asked out. Why?
That was simple. All the boys she knew were nothing more than that:
Boys. Too caught up in themselves and their "perfect image"
to even consider dating anyone that didn't look like they had stepped
out of Teen Magazine. Such foolish games were dealt with as long as
was possible, angry words being scrawled down in verse or splashed in
color across a blank canvas. Painting had become a passion, and it was
one thing that didn't requite her to meet society's ideals of the
womanly figure.
Screw society. Madison didn't want to deal with the idiocy of it
any more.
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