“Alrightie, girls,” the pageant director squealed, “let’s see those beautiful dresses, shall we?” We all had to wear the exact same dress, but we got to choose the color. Used to standing out in a good way, I chose watermelon—a loud pink that resembled the color of Pepto-Bismol. After we got dressed, the director asked each of us for our dress size, making sure everything was in order for the other costuming. The other girls chimed in with their sizes in perky, proud voices, “Four!” “Two!” “Six, or four, depending on the bust (giggle)!”
When my name was called, I whispered, “Size twelve,” hoping no one would hear me, praying that no one would laugh, extremely aware of the fact that I was the only double-digit size in the entire pageant. I dreaded having to wear my humongous, tonsil-colored dress among the sea of tiny burgundies, petite greens, and skinny blues.
At the dinner buffet line, while I filled my plate with “comfort food,” I noticed all the other girls took only lettuce. During practices, while everyone else wore sports bras and tiny shorts, I wore a baggy T-shirt and sweats. As the week progressed, I felt weirder and wider and uglier and larger. In my hometown, I may have been a normal seventeen-year-old girl, but here, I was FAT, and fat people were not pageant queens. A pageant winner does not go back for a second helping at dinner. I was ashamed and embarrassed for being so different.
It was then that I, Nancy Redd, school president, public speaking champion, and cheerleading captain, began to COMPLETELY hate my ENTIRE BODY. I had just been accepted into an Ivy League college, and I had a wonderful life back home, but I still felt like a total loser. After the pageant was over, I poured all the energy that had gone into college applications and schoolwork into low-fat cooking and exercising to the point of exhaustion. I lost four dress sizes before I went to college! Much to my disappointment, thanks to stress, laziness, and college cafeteria food, I gained all the weight back by my junior year.