After a year of hard work, I went from 180 pounds to 100 pounds. My body became slim and my jawline was finally defined. But then, Lily Mason shared a half-naked photo of me at 180 pounds in our friend circle for everyone’s amusement and even messed with my bikini during a modeling contest.
“What are you so proud of? Do you really think losing weight will make people forget how disgusting you used to look?”
——
I posted two workout photos in our friend circle, showing off my slim figure and sharp jawline. I captioned them: "A year to lose 80 pounds, hard work always pays off."
In that year, I made incredible progress without saying a word. I spent three hours in the gym every day, lifting weights and running. I wore out countless pairs of sneakers and my quick-dry clothes were soaked in sweat so often that they turned yellow and couldn’t be cleaned anymore. I gave up my favorite fried chicken and cake, sticking to meal-prepped diet plans. After all that effort, I went from being 180 pounds to losing 80 pounds.
Now, every health check shows perfect results. I was proud of my success and thought my friends would be happy for me. But I was wrong.
At the bottom of my post, my friends’ comments were filled with doubt:
"It’s not cute anymore; you looked better with some weight."
"You are too skinny now, out of shape. Does that even look good to you?"
"No way, that must be edited."
"Where’d you steal these pictures from?"
"Go ahead and fool everyone else, but don’t fool yourself."
"I’ll be honest with you, don’t get mad, but you’ve lost weight and seem a bit mean now."
Those comments poured cold water all over my joy, draining it from head to heart. At first, I thought my friends were just joking. After all, they hadn’t seen me for a year and maybe they couldn’t accept the change right away. I figured once they saw me in person, it would be different. I was looking forward to calling everyone out to hang out.
But the responses I got were:
"We’re definitely coming, get to see if you edit those pictures!"
"Yeah, yeah, we need to check this out."
"You better have actually lost weight."
"Don’t disappoint us, or you’ll be in trouble."
I awkwardly smiled at the screen, still looking forward to the party the next day.
I had been chubby for as long as I can remember. As a child, my elders would call me a “blessed doll,” constantly feeding me and pinching my cheeks, saying how cute I was. When I was little, that was fine. But once I hit puberty, I became the “fat piggy girl” that everyone hated.
My classmates avoided me, saying I smelled like lard and took up too much space at the table. I was bullied because of my weight and the only person who ever wanted to be around me was Lily.
In my second year of junior high, a classmate threw my breakfast into the toilet, sneering, “You eat like a pig anyway.”
“I heard pigs eat anything—go ahead, Emma West, eat some for me.”
I quietly returned to my seat, flipping through my textbook, pretending I didn’t care. But my stomach growled in protest.
Suddenly, half a bun landed on my book.
“You’re hungry, aren’t you? Go ahead, eat mine.”
Lily smiled at me, her pale, flawless face like a porcelain doll in a shop window.
From that day on, she would often bring me breakfast and snacks. We became inseparable. I followed her everywhere and for once, I didn’t feel alone.
People would joke that we were the “Beauty and the Beast” duo, but Lily would pout and tell them to shut up, still smiling her perfect smile.
I envied how she could smile at everyone so effortlessly.
Over time, I learned a set of survival rules and chose to play the "ugly" role on purpose.
I would imitate Porky Pig behind the most popular girl in class and soon enough, almost every girl wanted to play role-playing games with me.
I’d pretend to be Tarzan, beating my chest and wailing like a wild animal. Every time I charged around on all fours, the class would erupt into cheers, applause and whistles.
But I soon realized that no one thought of me when it came to anything important.
So, I volunteered to help the boys carry books and water, doing all the dirty work.
I became good at reading people, always playing the sidekick to highlight someone else’s superiority.
That’s why everyone loved hanging out with me.
“If you’re in trouble, call Big Strong.”
“Big Strong is the best supporting act.”
I’ve heard things like that for as long as I can remember and maybe that’s all I was worth.
I would laugh along whenever people made fun of my weight, even eating more just to make everyone like me more.
But then the doctor gave me a wake-up call: if I didn’t lose weight, my life would be at risk.
The next day, I sat in front of the mirror and opened a makeup kit that had been untouched for two years. Clumsily, I applied a simple look. I slipped into a long, dusty lavender dress and put on a pair of beige high heels. I styled my hair in soft curls.
Staring at my transformed reflection, I burst into tears.
Only God knows how much I suffered this couple of past years, how many times I nearly gave up. There were countless moments when I collapsed at the gym, sobbing in frustration. I hated my body, loathed my inability to control my cravings and despised myself for failing over and over. Every time I looked at the failed health reports, I wiped away my tears, steadied my trembling legs and fought on.
My perseverance paid off. I thanked myself for never giving up.
The changes in my body brought more than just a healthier physique; they gave me confidence and growth. After losing 80 pounds, I felt like there was nothing I couldn’t achieve.
I entered the restaurant with a light, confident step.
As I expected, my friends froze, their jaws practically on the floor.
Ben Carson was the first to react, “Emma West? Holy crap, is that really you?”
His shout snapped the others out of their shock.
“Wow, fat people really are hidden gems! Who knew you’d be such a beauty when you slimmed down?”
I blushed at the compliment, my face burning—I’d never been praised like this in my entire life.
On the surface, I acted shy, but inside, I was overjoyed.
Just then, Sophie Adams came over, looking me up and down and suddenly reached out to smudge the foundation on my face.
“This makeup looks terrible on you.”
I wasn’t prepared for that but instinctively smiled as I always did.
“Haha, yeah, I’m not very good at makeup yet. I need to learn from you.”
Sophie’s eyes narrowed as she shoved me.
“What do you mean by that? You lose weight and now you think you’re a queen, trying to outshine me?”
The atmosphere turned sour immediately, but I was used to this kind of tension directed at me.
I laughed it off, “Oh, no, not at all. I just happened to lose a bit of weight, but after this meal, I’ll probably put it all back on.”
Seeing the situation, the others pushed Sophie back to her seat, trying to keep things light.
Then, I noticed Lily sitting beside Sophie, her face clouded with displeasure, saying nothing.
Lily had always been beautiful. Wherever she went, she was the center of attention, a star. Naturally, she had a bit of a “little princess” attitude. In the past, I had always stood behind her, happy to be at her side. But now that I had stolen some of the spotlight, it was clear she felt unsettled.
I poured her a glass of wine and offered it to her with a smile.
“We haven’t seen each other in a year, Lily and you’re still as beautiful as ever.”
Lily crossed her arms, refusing to take the glass. She glanced at me sideways, her expression sour.
“How could I compare to you? After all, you worked so hard to become beautiful.”
Sophie chimed in, “Exactly! You’ve always been beautiful, ever since we were kids.”
At that moment, Jason Miller tried to diffuse the tension, “Come on, Lily, don’t be so bitter. Just because you can’t outshine her it doesn’t mean you should drag her down.”
Lily’s face turned red, then pale. Her lips trembled as if she were about to snap.
Looking at my friend’s angry face, I hurriedly downplayed the situation.
“Oh, stop it! I’m just a skinny person now, nothing special.”
Then, out of habit, I made a silly face to lighten the mood.
“See? Even pretty girls can still make goofy faces!”
Everyone laughed and teased me like before, but this time, instead of mocking my weight, they awkwardly praised my appearance.
Suddenly, I felt something cold on my face—water dripping down from my hair.
I looked up to see Lily standing with an empty wine glass, her face flushed with rage.
“What are you so smug about? Do you really think that losing weight means people will forget how disgusting you used to look?”
Even though I was used to harsh words, today’s humiliation was on another level. Worse yet, the one who embarrassed me was my best friend, Lily.
I had always thought she was sincere. She was the only one who knew I was on a strict diet. She had even told me not to push myself too hard and often invited me out for big meals, almost tempting me to break my diet.
Later, I made a pact with her that we wouldn’t meet again until I succeeded. Lily had joked, “Don’t be gone forever!”
“To see you, I’ll have to lose some weight too!”
Could it be that she never wanted me to succeed?
Why would she tear me down now, just when I was finally building my confidence?
I covered my face and ran home, collapsed onto my bed in tears.
What was so wrong with being fat? I had already lost the weight—was I doomed to carry this shame forever?
Just then, my phone dinged. I glanced at the screen and my heart sank.
Lily had sent over ten photos to our group chat—all of them were of me at 180 pounds, wearing nothing but underwear.
In the photos, I was drenched in sweat, my fat rolling over itself, greasy beads of perspiration clinging to my body. I could practically smell the sweat through the screen. I looked pitiful and filthy, like melted ice cream pooling in someone’s hand.
One of the photos showed a purple sundress pulled over my head. I remembered that day vividly—Lily had dragged me along to the mall, insisting me to try on dresses. I couldn’t even fit into the largest size. It was August and the heat was unbearable. I struggled to put on the dress, sweat pouring from me. Lily laughed beside me.
“Forget it, Emma West. You’ll rip the seams.”
The clerk handed me the sweat-soaked dress, looking me up and down with disgust.
“If you’re that fat, why even bother trying? You’ll just ruin it for the next person.”
Humiliated, I spent $84 on that dress, which has since gathered dust in my closet.
I had no idea Lily had taken pictures that day.
