13 Ways of Looking at a Fat Girl by Mona Awad

just to fuck with me. I tell her about it and she says, “Oh, well, she
could
change it for me,” and I say, “Could you?” And I tell Mel to go ahead and start without me.
    â€œShe sounds pretty annoying,” Mel says. “Sadistic, even.”
    â€œItsy Bitsy? She is.” I tell Mel that I’m starting to think she befriended me to make herself feel good. To feel extra bitsy. That I think she actually gets off on it, eating copiously in front of me whileI eat nothing, and pointing out how I’m eating nothing while she’s eating copiously.
    â€œI guess that’s possible,” Mel says. She picks up her fork and knife, then lowers them. “I feel bad about starting without you. You sure you don’t want at least some fries while you wait?”
    I tell her I better not. I’ve been on such a slippery slope lately.
    Mel bites into her scroll. “You look the shame to me,” she says. “Shkinnier, even.”
    â€œI wish. I’m pretty sure I’ve plateaued. And I’m flying out to see Tom soon.”
    â€œI don’t know if I support you doing this for Tom.”
    â€œI’m not. It’s just useful to have a date in mind. To work toward. You know?”
    Mel keeps eating her scroll.
    â€œThis is for me,” I add.
    â€œGood. Because he should love you the way you are.”
    â€œHe does.”
    â€œGood.” Mel nods, and takes a bite of scroll. “I’m glad that one of these Internet things finally worked out for you. I was worried he’d be another creep. Like that soap opera guy in the wheelchair. God, what was his name? Something awful. Blair or something.”
    â€œBlake.”
    â€œOr that one from before from Colorado who kept claiming he’d dated international models. What a liar. And a loser.”
    â€œYeah,” I say, cutting into an artichoke heart. “How are things with Henry?”
    She makes a face. “The same. I don’t really want to talk about it, if that’s okay.”
    â€œOf course. Well. Anyone you hate these days?”
    Mel cuts a large piece of scroll. Then she says there are people who annoy her. Who seriously, seriously annoy her. But no, no one worthy of hate. Hating requires a lot of energy; she’s so tired these days.
    â€œI know what you mean,” I say. “I’m tired too.”
    Speaking of which, Mel says, she has an early class tomorrow.
    I ask her if she’d like me to drive her home after dinner, but she says it’s fine. Really.
    I tell her I’m happy to at least drive her to the bus station closer to her house, that I’d really hate for her to have to take two buses at night. It’s such a long ride to Misery Saga, and besides, I feel like I never see her anymore. Like she’s disappeared.
    â€œI haven’t
disappeared
,” she says. “But I know what you mean. I feel like I never see you anymore either.”
    On the ride to the bus station, to make her laugh, I tell Mel about Aggressively Naked, this woman who works out at my gym who does all of her post-workout grooming naked. She brushes her hair naked. She uses her straightening iron naked. Eyelash curler and mascara naked. Rings, necklace, and even bracelets naked. Only after she’s got herself totally primped will she put on her clothes.
    â€œIsn’t that annoying?”
    â€œIt is,” Mel agrees.
    â€œI can’t believe I forgot to tell you earlier. Also, she’s got this body you wouldn’t believe. Like, I knew just by her body she didn’t speak English. I knew that when she opened her mouth, something like Danish would come out.”
    â€œOh my god, stop,” she says, mock-covering her ears. “Just stop.”
    Once we get to the bus station, I insist on holding Mel in the car until the bus comes. She takes her bus pass out of her little change purse to be at the ready. I tell her I love her change purse, even