“Navya, get ready we have to go to a party”, my mother yells.
I meekly look up and check out the time. Its 7:30, only 30 minutes to spare.
The only thing I have to do is go, open my closet, take out my jeans and a top. That would do. Forming the plan in my head, I rush out to execute it.
Jeans no.1- (sfx checks out in the mirror)
Jeans no.2- (sfx checks out in the mirror)
‘Arghhhhhh’, I give up!!
My thighs are fat, my stomach bulges out if I wear a low waisted, too loose on the waist, tight on the thighs.
Isn’t there a perfect one
Unfortunately not, which pair of jeans are made for a 90kg/198lbs girl. Supposedly none. I don’t look perfect at all. Like other girls.
OTHER GIRLS !!!!!
This is insane. When will our other girls stop. When.
Will it stop if your weight drops from 90kg/198lbs to 50kg/110lbs, or will it when you secure a modelling contract of Victoria Streets.
Because time is running, but I suppose we are still on a standstill.
You want to become a bitch or be just you.
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