Friday, October 23, 2009

I get my skinny jeans from Lane Bryant

Here' s the name is Brayden and I am a plus size twink and I've got a h-word of a lotta of s-word to say. Didn't mean to be so matter of fact, or blunt, but that's how I do. Now listen, I wasn't always a thick boy, i once took great pride in having the smallest waist in my high school, honey, a smedium draped off of these broad shoulders. Everybody hated me and I loved it! I ate it up and that's all i would eat. I was fierce and the kids-those friends, strangers, pioneers, bullfrogs-were gagging. I was the belle of the ball, the talk of the town, the Jasmine to an entire schools Aladdin. One, part one, and don't get that confused with any other points following after, i want you to remember that i was the only brown kid in my school. Some could and would say I looked like a sand colored John Travolta, and i would say , true and thank you. Not only did wavy black hair adorn my head but green eyes greeted everyone who met me. Conceited, a little. So to hit the bullets: thin, attractive, thin, attractive...thin. Until, the track meet of junior year. That f-word track meet of junior year. The year that my favorite two adjectives would never be applied to my life. So here's what happened, gag kids, gag. There I am in my custom running shorts-a snazzy purple sateen short with Liza written in rhinestones across the back and a sensible black t-shirt: some would say ready to run and once again i retort, stretched and plied and for good measure an "eat my dust". After feeling sassy i realize that i have to pee. 2 minutes before the race begins and a tinkle wells up in my groin so i take off in hopes of making back in time. I can feel the breeze in my locks, i round the corner, make it to the bathroom, do what i need to do and head back to the track when 2 steps away from safety i slip on some motherf-word vomit, that some sorry sack of s-word deposited on the lawn from the pickle fall festival the night before, caught air and the ground caught my a-word and there i was two torn ACL's and a rapid equation for obesity. I was taking out! Lying flat on my back all i could think of was how the f-word did i just end my motherf-word career and i could find that sorry son of a b-word who did this i would f-word his a-word all of this h-word(Mormon i don't swear, suck dick, but don't swear) whoever did this is gonna pay with their a-word!
The doctor told me, 6 weeks of being flat on my back and i thought, what's different from my everyday life, get it...i was trying to say that i enjoy male attention and being on my back was how i get it. In six weeks I gained 30 lbs and get this, my track, dance, freestyle walking career was over. My cute outfits were no more. That all took place 4 years ago and the weight game never stopped. I went from shopping in preteens to husky to big and tall. From baby gap to getting skinny jeans at Lane Bryant. And all because of some Fall Pickle Festival. I can't!