A Good Day

Sats is weird. She's not "weird" as in "creepy", no, she's weird as in just, well, weird. Momma always said that Sats is the sort who doesn't really get how pretty she is. Momma never lied about that, as, one time, I found Sats looking at herself in the mirror. That bit wouldn't seem weird, except that she was eyeing her legs. Not sure as to why she was looking at her legs but, then again, they are long, so long that I felt half-tempted to call her "Ostrich", especially when I saw her staring at herself in the mirror.

 To Momma, we're beautiful, well, she's Momma and moms are supposed to think their kids are beautiful but, to everyone else, only one of us is "pretty". Sats is pretty, while I'm, well, I guess kinda the opposite. How different? Well, Sats is tall, curyish, and, as some would say, like a crane, while I'm, to put it simply, like a bulldog, which is to say, I'm short, stumpy, frumpy, fat, and rolly with messy hair and big red-framed glasses, constantly tripping over my shoelaces, then again, Sats does that with her shoes, too.

 I told Momma this, to which she said, "No, my girls are beauties and, last I had checked, you are not 'fat', a little chubby or plump, perhaps, but not fat and, besides, we're all a little roundish in some way." I retorted, to which she told me that I was heavier than Sats in a way but, besides, that, I wasn't fat and that she's seen "fat".
 
"Okay, so tell me, what kind of 'fat' have you seen?"
 
"That bitch down the street who rides on a motor scooter with her ass spilling off of it and almost getting run over by the wheels, yet she still keeps eating. THAT, that is fat, Ryuuko, my sweet, you are not fat."
 
"Doesn't matter either way, as Sats is still prettier than me."
 
"I disagree and I fail to see your logic, after all, neither of you understand how pretty you are. Of course, I would assume that if Sats knew how pretty she was, odds are, she'd probably become shyer and more akward, while, in your case, you'd stop calling yourself fat and embrace what you are, instead of what you and the outsiders see."

 Momma doesn't understand, then again, that's how moms are. If I was pretty like Sats, then people wouldn't call me "fatass" or the "fat one", whatever some shit related to that. At least, Sats doesn't call me any of that, yet, she manages to show that she is prettier than me, even if she doesn't realize it. That isn't the only thing she doesn't realize, as she doesn't know them other people call me names or makes fun of me. I come home and say, "I had a shit day!" and she never really knows why, as she has good days and says she does, in the times that she talks (she's real, real quiet) .

Then she is there to make to me laugh, the which she does by jumping on the footrest at the end of my bed, gripping on it with her toes and then she does some weird ass dance. It's funny as hell but that's what she does to cheer me up, so I guess that's what sisters do.  She always did that but, one time, it didn't work, to which she thought and climbed in bed next to me.

  By that point, I was crying and I was crying hard. I didn't think that she'd stay there and listen but she did. She pulled me into a hug, while I cried into her shoulder. I should mention that she doesn't talk much, so, she didn't really talk, well, not with her mouth but, actually, with her eyes. With her eyes, she asked me what was wrong and I told her. I told her about how she was prettier than me and that everyone makes fun of me, my weight, my glasses, my hair, and all other things related to me, along with that if I was pretty like her, then no one would call me the "fat one", "fatass", or whatever the hell.

She hugged me tighter and told me, "Everything that's beautiful people like to break and you are beautiful. People want to break you because they don't like that you are beautiful. I wish you had told me." She told me that she was supposed to know and she would've listened. She said the ones that want to break me are the ones that are supposed to change and not me, that I was beautiful just the way I was, along with that she'd do almost everything she could to make me feel better.

 I guess her ushering me out of bed and sitting me at a desk was a part of that. Without a second thought, she put that typewriter in front me and said, "Names." I told her each and every last name of the ones who picked on me. I didn't see this coming but we marched all around town and asked if their name was in the list. When the first dude who called me "fatass" answered, well, as said before, I didn't see this coming but she kicked him square in his shin and she kicked him hard, before demanding that he apologize to me or else she'd kick him again.

The next guy took a black eye and the third dude took a punch to the nuts and, like the first dude, they were to apologize. Whoever picked on me got something and she made damn sure they apologized. When the tennis bitch didn't apologize, Sats put her ass in a garbage can, in which case, she was begging for mercy.  Sats beat the crap out of every last person who called me names. Once she did that, she told me we were going to the mall. I told her I hated going the mall but she told me it would be fun.

 We were there for a little bit, looking around until we came to a store that I hadn't seen nor been to before, its name was something I couldn't easily remember. The clothes in there were pretty, so pretty, I feared that I wouldn't fit any or find any that would fit me but Sats insisted I try on a few things, saying that I wouldn't know unless I try, so I threw together a few things and called it an outfit. I suppose I wasn't payin' attention, until Sats said, "Oh, sweetheart, that really suits you."  I was confused, until I looked in a mirror and then I saw what Sats was talking about.  In that moment, I wasn't a bulldog, actually, I was the total opposite.

 I was sexy. I was a bombshell. I was seductive. I was intimidating. I had a queen's swagger and no one could--would--hold  a candle to me. I had become a goddess, a goddess in a lovely red off-shoulder long shirt and black capris with black low heels and black hat with a red flower. Damn, it was a good thing I had brought my wallet because, clearly, I had to have this and a lot of new things.
 
We went home and I was feeling better than ever.
 
        For once, I had a good day.