Dog Store
by Tess
LennonDorn I didn’t transition smoothly from a little kid to a big kid. As an elevenyearold I would look around and see these girls and think that they were really nailing being eleven, ya know? Like with the perfect dress, long blonde hair, skinny. Those fuckers. To this day whenever I see an elevenyearold girl who’s nailing it I wanna be like, “Hey, fuck you!” And then I realize like “Okay, maybe my anger toward this small child is slightly misguided…slightly.” Obviously the reason I hate them so much is because I was not one of those girls. Other girls were cute and I was chubby. I had these rolls that would sweat against each other and would make these fat kid sweat lines against my tee shirt. The button of my khakis was clinging on for dear life. I was always jammed into a sports bra from Galyan’s. It didn’t fit. It was hard to get on and then I just couldn’t get it off. It was too tight so it would cut into my side rolls so I just kind of looked like a stack of donuts. I don’t know why I even wore a bra…like why did I bother? They’re not breasts at that point. There’s something there, but they’re not breasts. I wasn’t developing quicker; it was just that since I was already fat I guess the fat was like… “okay.” At the time, instead of breasts I had these fat boy boobs…you know like the kind fat boys have at public pools…these two cones hangin’ off...they don’t wear bras. And if you don’t have to cover up that shit, I don’t know why I had to cover up mine. In the heat of my struggles as a tween, particularly with my weight, my parents decided to try and help. So one day we all went to see this man. I particularly remember them referring to him as a doctor before we got there. They wanted to take me to him to get advice about ways
to manage my weight using natural medicine rather than diet pills. Minor detail, he treats dogs and cats, but with an herbalist spin. He’s kind of like a dog chiropractor. I seemed to be the only one who saw a wrinkle in the plan. Didn’t phase anyone else that they were seeking medical advice for their daughter from a witch vet. Vet, as in veterinarian. When questioned about this decision years later, my mom’s responses were always “He studied in China” and “We’re all mammals”. So you walk into this place and the bell rings at the top of the door, to let him know there’s a dog there, or a child. You walk in and there’s fluorescent lighting, and the place is covered floortoceiling with pictures of dogs that customers have all sent him. It kind of shows his credibility but in a humble family manish way? He’s tall and wears a white vet coat, and always looks like he’s about to run off somewhere but then doesn’t. He’s kind but flustered in the way most sciencey people are. There’s aisles of shelves all stacked with different types of pet food, toys, bowls, leashes, remedies. It’s all pretty crammed in but full of good intention. At the far end of the store is a counter. There’s a door behind the counter where his wife takes dogs into the back for grooming. They always come out with a seasonal bandana. I know this because we’ve taken our dogs there. The thing about being chubby is that people really do treat you like you’re chubby. If you’re overweight your whole life you can always fantasize that maybe if you weren’t, maybe people would treat you with more respect and maybe you’d get hit on more in elevators and parking lots. And it’s not like it’s even a remotely rewarding experience to get hit on in elevators and parking lots. It’s just that when you come face to face with that side of human nature, or Americans, or whatever, it hurts. It hurts that people who aren’t overweight feel uncomfortable
around people who are. I wish I could say that weight doesn’t matter, as long as you love yourself. But that’s bullshit. When people tell me I look pretty, I’m surprised. Because the truth is I still feel like the chubby kid I used to be. I’m always scared in the back of my mind that one day I’ll wake up and be her again. When someone tells me “You look beautiful” a part of me thinks “fuck you”, but a bigger part of me is relieved.