"Why are you in such a bad mood?" my mom asked me as we browsed the racks of pants in a random department store.
"I dunno," i mumbled. "Maybe i just need caffeine." That was a lie. Well, maybe not completely, i was missing my caffeine, but i did know why my mood was so raunchy. I'd been in and out of a dozen different fitting rooms with two and a half dozen pairs of pants--khaki pants, nonetheless, because that's what i'd be required to wear at my new job. Nothing fit. The binge of the night before had been awful. I was too fat for everything, and the light color made my thighs look enormous.
"Oh," my mom answered absently. "There's the fitting room."
"Great," i said with sarcasm and entered the place of doom with Ana at my side. I slid out of my jeans and sighed, staring at the stack of khakis that lay on the bench. I carefully picked up the smallest ones, my stomach filling with pure dread. Those weren't going to fit... But i tried anyway. "Fucking pants," i cursed and threw them across the room when my suspicions were verified.
"Hey, now," Ana reprimanded, picking them up and folding them neatly. "There's no cause for that. It's not the pants' fault, after all."
"Yeah, thanks. You're so encouraging."
She sniffed. "Well, i'm not the one who decided to get angry at the world and binge last night, now am i?"
I ignored her and grabbed the biggest size out of the pile. I slipped into them easily, but noticed a slight muffin top. "Good enough," i growled and changed back into my own pants.
"Find some?" my mom asked.
"Yeah," i shouted over my shoulder as i stomped toward the check out line. "I hate being fat," i grumbled to Ana, wondering if the check out girl would look at the size on those pants.
Ana didn't respond, and the check-out girl didn't say anything about the size, but i knew deep down that both of them were thinking "Why don't you lose some weight, fat-ass?"