I faced the people I’d spent years avoiding.
“I lost 150 pounds. I know that’s what most of you noticed when I walked in, but losing weight didn’t make me worthy of kindness. I was worthy of it then.”
“That’s why I’m choosing to.”
Someone started clapping.
I raised my palm.
“Please don’t. I didn’t come up here for applause. I came because I spent years waiting for my life to start after I looked different. It didn’t. My life started when I stopped asking everyone else for permission to exist.”
Betty wiped her face.
“I didn’t come up here for applause.”
“Leah, I’m sorry.”
“I believe you,” I said. “But don’t turn my body into proof that cruelty worked out in the end.”
She lowered her eyes.
“The girl you hurt didn’t vanish because I became smaller. She grew up and built a life. Tonight, she chose not to hide.”
The woman who had defended Betty folded her arms.
“We all laughed at dumb things back then.”
I turned to her.
“Yes, but not all of us were the joke.”
A man near the dance floor cleared his throat.
“I remember hearing it. I should’ve said something.”
“We all laughed at dumb things back then.”
Another woman nodded.
