Skinny • Book 1 In The Reality Series

Katy

There is nothing that makes you feel quiet as shitty and self loathing quite like your fatness inconveniencing people.

Some common instances are, when you try to go back to school shopping and Jessica in the dressing room, and to be fair it's not always Jessica, sometimes it's Britney, or Whitney, or sometimes Cassidy. But anyway, I digress. When you don't fit in the jeans and ask the Jessica or Britney, or Whitney working there for another size and she gives you the, 'seriously? I don't know you but I hate you. I'm fantasizing about you getting run over in the parking lot.' Sigh.

Or when you're waiting in line for some sort of food, and because you're fat, the fact that the woman infront of you is asking what every item on the menu is and what every comb entails, is somehow your fault.

I'll admit, such instances are uncomfortable, and unfortunate, and unfortunately unavoidable. But nothing quite compares to breaking an elevator.

So there we were, Gracie, Corinne, who I learned during our accent from the first floor to the third, was a nude cam model, which explained the lack of clothes, Elliot and I.

I could tell that the elevator was kind of decrepit, the way it creaked and groaned with every passing inch, but it wasn't until it let out a guttural scream of agony and we jolted to a sudden and abrupt stop did I realize that having me and an elephant in the small box together was the worst idea on a long list of bad ideas we'd had.

"We stopped." Gracie announced after several seconds of us hung in limbo, going neither up or down.

Frowning, Corinne looked up at the numbers, which at one point had been glowing, but now had gone dark.

"Well shit." She muttered, "This sucks."

"We stopped." Gracie repeated, "What does that mean? Does that happen often?"

Sighing, Corinne slid down the wall of the elevator to the floor, "We're stuck.

"We're stuck?" Gracie yelped, "For how long?"

"If I knew, we wouldn't be stuck would we?"

I wanted to inform her that regardless of the duration of our predicament, we were stuck all the same, but I refrained.

"What are we going to do?" Gracie demanded starting to panic, "I need to get out of here!"

"Relax." Corrine muttered, "One of you call 911."

"911!" Gracie more or less screamed, "This is a 911 worthy emergency? I've never called 911 before! Except for that one time when I prank called them....But other than that I've never!"

"Grace shut up and call them." Corinne snapped.

"I can't!" Gracie cried, doubling over and clutching her knees, "My phone is in the car!"

Sighing, Corrine looked up at me.

"My phone is dead." I whispered.

"Well shit." Corrine laughed to herself, "We're screwed."

"What do you mean we're screwed?" Gracie demanded, "Where's your phone?"

Sighing, Corrine pointed upwards, which I took to mean her apartment, and not the ceiling, or the roof, or hurtling through orbit.

"How are we going to call for help?" Gracie cried, "No one will even know we're trapped!"

"Crusher, the one with the clumpy eyelashes and your boy toy will figure it out." Corinne mumbled, ripping hangnails off of her fingers.

"How long will that take?" Gracie whimpered.

"Eventually," Corinne muttered, "Chill."

"I can't chill!" Gracie shouted, "I feel like I'm dying!"