Suspense. love (and a surprise trick ending)
The recent request for a "Prom Queen" story reminded me of this public domain weight-related classic that's been knocking around for years - high time to include it here!
My 18-year old daughter stood before me, as pretty in pink as a teenage girl could be. I added a little spit on an errant curl, then stood back to admire my creation.
"You're so beautiful, Cindy. You take my breath away."
Cindy wave a disdainful hand to my praise then turned to survey herself in the full-length mirror.
"So......," she said, almost off-handedly. "When are you going to tell me about your prom night?"
I'd been picking up discarded clothes from around Cindy's room when I heard her words. They caused me to stop still. At first, I wondered to whom she was speaking.
"I didn't go to my senior prom, Cindy. I've told you this many times," I replied, realizing there was no one else about and my daughter had to be addressing me.
"Mom," she said, turning from the mirror and throwing her lovely arms in the air in exasperation. "I don't know why you tell me and Kelly that you didn't go to your senior prom. I don't know why you lie about this. We've both known for over ten years that you DID go to your prom. We found a picture of you and your date over at Grandmom's house. On the back, Grandmom had written,'Shelly's Prom Picture-1968'. And you looked wonderful, Mom. Now tell me why you keep denying this."
Cindy plopped down on the bed directly in front of my shocked self, crossed her arms in defiance and gazed directly into my lying eyes in search of the truth.
Only I couldn't tell her the truth. In over thirty years I still can barely tell myself the truth. How does a mother ever tell such a terrible thing? How could I ever tell my daughters, even though they probably knew, that I was elected prom queen but for the worst of motives? My classmates elected me queen of the prom so I could take a bullet directly in my head.
My crime?
I was too fat.
I've always been fat. And though life as a fat child had never been a pleasant one, it wasn't until my senior prom that I realized just how much my school chums, indeed everyone in my world, really hated me for being so fat.
Cindy regarded me calmly as these thoughts raced through my head. In fifteen minutes, her boyfriend Calvin would come to claim her. And he would be getting a treat, indeed.
Her honey-brown hair was upswept in an elegant chignon. It was caught in the back by a simple gold clasp. The bangs flirted with her eyebrows in a soft manner that was both fetchingly childish and sexually alluring. It required only a modicum of makeup to enhance her wide-set emerald eyes and high cheekbones.
The pink gown that I'd originally thought to be a bit garish caressed her curves perfectly. I considered that I'd eschewed pink the day Cindy tried on the gown because my life was spent in the endless search for a slimming black. On Cindy, the bright pink shone soft but with statement against her creamy, lightly tanned skin. Those emerald eyes glowed even brighter above the pink satin frame.
"I was elected queen of my prom," I said, slowly, with no happy emotion that such a statement would suggest. Cindy's emerald eyes didn't change as she continued her steady gaze. She knew my statement also not to be a happy one.
"I guess you know this wasn't a good thing?" I asked rhetorically, sitting on the dressing chair to better muse.
"Because whoever got elected prom queen was going to be executed," I said with no emotion shown that these words would indicate.
To Cindy's credit, she didn't flinch. She'd been expecting this, I pondered. Someone's told her something. Now I'd tell her straight because, since she was so beautiful, I knew she had nothing to fear.
"I'm fat, Cindy," I said in a firm voice then jumped from my seated position for emphasis. At this Cindy's emerald eyes did react and it was kind of sad. For the merest fraction of a second she cast her eyes to the floor in that manner of people hearing a truth that made them uncomfortable. Though she quickly regained her bearing, I saw the movement. It didn't make me angry. Hell, a surreptitious casting down of the eyes at my obesity was the least of crimes committed upon me. It did sting a bit coming from my own daughter.
"And I've always been fat. I'm smart, mind you, and was always able to earn a good living. But no amount of money could make me be thin."
"I can't believe that's important, Mom. I don't even think of you as heavy. Neither does Kelly. We love....."
"Yeah. I know you love me. Everybody loves me. Except those kids in my high school class who voted for me to be murdered."
"Aunt Lil told us something....."
"I'm sure she did, Cindy. I'm sure she did. But I don't think she told you everything."
Cindy remained silent. Calvin would be arriving in a few minutes. She wanted to hear ‘everything'.
"I graduated high school back in the sixties," I began. "The Vietnam war was in full swing. Young people all over the country were protesting this war, and civil rights and women's liberation. It was a tumultuous time, Cindy. Even a fat girl like me got caught up in the spirit."
And this was true. In this late 1990's year of Cindy's senior prom the media exploded with the onslaught of anorexic models and ultra-thin actresses. There was also an epidemic of eating disorders in this era that either hadn't been so prevalent in my teenage years, or nobody talked about it. My own daughters were naturally thin and at the sight of my beautiful prom girl I knew I'd made the right decision on her dress.
During the sixties, it was cool to dress in fringed vests, long granny dresses and smoke dope until no one cared. The "in thing" was to be involved in any radical group, whether environment, anti-war or feminism. For myself, I belonged to an informal group of students that actively sought to end what we considered that ridiculous Vietnam war.
"We bombarded the newspapers with letters against the war, marched in front of the draft board, held sit ins on the White House lawn," I continued for Cindy, who'd heard all this before but was nonetheless polite.
"It was a wonderful time. There was nothing more important than making our country better. Everyone loved everyone else. We had parties and discussed communism. We all crammed into a volkswagen to head down to the nearest nuclear power plant. We made love and not war. Ours was a society that cared only for the greater good. At least that's what I thought."
I glanced at Cindy's bedside clock and considered the wisdom of continuing. Though Cindy noticed my action, she made no effort to move.
"I really didn't want to go to my senior prom. In those years, silly things like proms and school dances were almost politically incorrect. We were a generation out to change the way the world sees things. Such as gowns and tuxedos were for the vapid. Only Chuck Wilkerson asked me if I wanted to go to the prom with him and I immediately agreed."
I knew Cindy didn't know Chuck Wilkerson. No reason she should. He was only one of the guys in our crowd, a tall long-haired freak that considered the prom thing a joke. This is the lack of seriousness on which his request to be my date was premised so it isn't as if Chuck Wilkerson were anyone important in my life.
"I even went out and bought a halfway decent looking dress. Black of course, but pretty."
"You looked really nice in it, Mom."
"Actually, my whole crowd decided to go to the prom. It was a hoot kind of thing. So we all formed boy-girl teams and decided to shock the school and turn up as if perfectly normal students wanting to enjoy the festivities. Only we had some interesting plans for our senior prom, though what happened was more horrible than our original intent."
"Aunt Lil said you all planned to burn the flag."
My sister would tell Cindy this. In fact, we made no plans to burn the flag at our prom. Our only plan was to change into bell-bottoms and fringe vests in the middle of the prom and ruin everyone's nice pictures by insinuating our hippie selves into all photographs. It was supposed to be our method of crapping on their stupid party while young men died in that dirty little war. I clarified this misunderstanding for Cindy.
"Word got all around school about our intended plans. The thing ballooned into something where no one activist faction controlled so the things that happened the night of my prom did apparently just sort of happen with no preconceived plan. It was brutal though."
The recent request for a "Prom Queen" story reminded me of this public domain weight-related classic that's been knocking around for years - high time to include it here!
The Fattest Prom Queen
by Anonymous
My 18-year old daughter stood before me, as pretty in pink as a teenage girl could be. I added a little spit on an errant curl, then stood back to admire my creation.
"You're so beautiful, Cindy. You take my breath away."
Cindy wave a disdainful hand to my praise then turned to survey herself in the full-length mirror.
"So......," she said, almost off-handedly. "When are you going to tell me about your prom night?"
I'd been picking up discarded clothes from around Cindy's room when I heard her words. They caused me to stop still. At first, I wondered to whom she was speaking.
"I didn't go to my senior prom, Cindy. I've told you this many times," I replied, realizing there was no one else about and my daughter had to be addressing me.
"Mom," she said, turning from the mirror and throwing her lovely arms in the air in exasperation. "I don't know why you tell me and Kelly that you didn't go to your senior prom. I don't know why you lie about this. We've both known for over ten years that you DID go to your prom. We found a picture of you and your date over at Grandmom's house. On the back, Grandmom had written,'Shelly's Prom Picture-1968'. And you looked wonderful, Mom. Now tell me why you keep denying this."
Cindy plopped down on the bed directly in front of my shocked self, crossed her arms in defiance and gazed directly into my lying eyes in search of the truth.
Only I couldn't tell her the truth. In over thirty years I still can barely tell myself the truth. How does a mother ever tell such a terrible thing? How could I ever tell my daughters, even though they probably knew, that I was elected prom queen but for the worst of motives? My classmates elected me queen of the prom so I could take a bullet directly in my head.
My crime?
I was too fat.
I've always been fat. And though life as a fat child had never been a pleasant one, it wasn't until my senior prom that I realized just how much my school chums, indeed everyone in my world, really hated me for being so fat.
Cindy regarded me calmly as these thoughts raced through my head. In fifteen minutes, her boyfriend Calvin would come to claim her. And he would be getting a treat, indeed.
Her honey-brown hair was upswept in an elegant chignon. It was caught in the back by a simple gold clasp. The bangs flirted with her eyebrows in a soft manner that was both fetchingly childish and sexually alluring. It required only a modicum of makeup to enhance her wide-set emerald eyes and high cheekbones.
The pink gown that I'd originally thought to be a bit garish caressed her curves perfectly. I considered that I'd eschewed pink the day Cindy tried on the gown because my life was spent in the endless search for a slimming black. On Cindy, the bright pink shone soft but with statement against her creamy, lightly tanned skin. Those emerald eyes glowed even brighter above the pink satin frame.
"I was elected queen of my prom," I said, slowly, with no happy emotion that such a statement would suggest. Cindy's emerald eyes didn't change as she continued her steady gaze. She knew my statement also not to be a happy one.
"I guess you know this wasn't a good thing?" I asked rhetorically, sitting on the dressing chair to better muse.
"Because whoever got elected prom queen was going to be executed," I said with no emotion shown that these words would indicate.
To Cindy's credit, she didn't flinch. She'd been expecting this, I pondered. Someone's told her something. Now I'd tell her straight because, since she was so beautiful, I knew she had nothing to fear.
"I'm fat, Cindy," I said in a firm voice then jumped from my seated position for emphasis. At this Cindy's emerald eyes did react and it was kind of sad. For the merest fraction of a second she cast her eyes to the floor in that manner of people hearing a truth that made them uncomfortable. Though she quickly regained her bearing, I saw the movement. It didn't make me angry. Hell, a surreptitious casting down of the eyes at my obesity was the least of crimes committed upon me. It did sting a bit coming from my own daughter.
"And I've always been fat. I'm smart, mind you, and was always able to earn a good living. But no amount of money could make me be thin."
"I can't believe that's important, Mom. I don't even think of you as heavy. Neither does Kelly. We love....."
"Yeah. I know you love me. Everybody loves me. Except those kids in my high school class who voted for me to be murdered."
"Aunt Lil told us something....."
"I'm sure she did, Cindy. I'm sure she did. But I don't think she told you everything."
Cindy remained silent. Calvin would be arriving in a few minutes. She wanted to hear ‘everything'.
"I graduated high school back in the sixties," I began. "The Vietnam war was in full swing. Young people all over the country were protesting this war, and civil rights and women's liberation. It was a tumultuous time, Cindy. Even a fat girl like me got caught up in the spirit."
And this was true. In this late 1990's year of Cindy's senior prom the media exploded with the onslaught of anorexic models and ultra-thin actresses. There was also an epidemic of eating disorders in this era that either hadn't been so prevalent in my teenage years, or nobody talked about it. My own daughters were naturally thin and at the sight of my beautiful prom girl I knew I'd made the right decision on her dress.
During the sixties, it was cool to dress in fringed vests, long granny dresses and smoke dope until no one cared. The "in thing" was to be involved in any radical group, whether environment, anti-war or feminism. For myself, I belonged to an informal group of students that actively sought to end what we considered that ridiculous Vietnam war.
"We bombarded the newspapers with letters against the war, marched in front of the draft board, held sit ins on the White House lawn," I continued for Cindy, who'd heard all this before but was nonetheless polite.
"It was a wonderful time. There was nothing more important than making our country better. Everyone loved everyone else. We had parties and discussed communism. We all crammed into a volkswagen to head down to the nearest nuclear power plant. We made love and not war. Ours was a society that cared only for the greater good. At least that's what I thought."
I glanced at Cindy's bedside clock and considered the wisdom of continuing. Though Cindy noticed my action, she made no effort to move.
"I really didn't want to go to my senior prom. In those years, silly things like proms and school dances were almost politically incorrect. We were a generation out to change the way the world sees things. Such as gowns and tuxedos were for the vapid. Only Chuck Wilkerson asked me if I wanted to go to the prom with him and I immediately agreed."
I knew Cindy didn't know Chuck Wilkerson. No reason she should. He was only one of the guys in our crowd, a tall long-haired freak that considered the prom thing a joke. This is the lack of seriousness on which his request to be my date was premised so it isn't as if Chuck Wilkerson were anyone important in my life.
"I even went out and bought a halfway decent looking dress. Black of course, but pretty."
"You looked really nice in it, Mom."
"Actually, my whole crowd decided to go to the prom. It was a hoot kind of thing. So we all formed boy-girl teams and decided to shock the school and turn up as if perfectly normal students wanting to enjoy the festivities. Only we had some interesting plans for our senior prom, though what happened was more horrible than our original intent."
"Aunt Lil said you all planned to burn the flag."
My sister would tell Cindy this. In fact, we made no plans to burn the flag at our prom. Our only plan was to change into bell-bottoms and fringe vests in the middle of the prom and ruin everyone's nice pictures by insinuating our hippie selves into all photographs. It was supposed to be our method of crapping on their stupid party while young men died in that dirty little war. I clarified this misunderstanding for Cindy.
"Word got all around school about our intended plans. The thing ballooned into something where no one activist faction controlled so the things that happened the night of my prom did apparently just sort of happen with no preconceived plan. It was brutal though."
