Anything but Normal - Melody Carlson [1]
“What are you going to wear next week?”
“The same things I’m wearing this week.”
Carrie Anne didn’t respond.
“Don’t worry.” Sophie tried to insert some cheer into her voice. “I’ll try not to look like a bag lady.” She peeled off the detestable pants, then stared blankly into the full-length mirror in front of her. Some of her friends thought she looked like Drew Barrymore. But today Sophie thought she looked . . . well, generally unimpressive. Her honey-colored, shoulder-length hair was pulled back into a sloppy ponytail. Her greenish blue eyes, one of her better features, looked swollen and red. And her turned-up nose, also red, was dripping. She used the hem of her shirt again. Really, she should listen to her mom and start carrying tissues in her purse.
Sophie stood up straight, taking in another deep breath. This was so out of character for her. So perfectly ridiculous. She really needed to pull herself together. Sure, she was pleasantly plump. But good grief, that was nothing new. She’d begun developing curves way back in fifth grade. That had been torturous enough back then—her peers had still looked like spindly colts while she’d felt like a clumsy cow. But now that she was seventeen and a senior, her friends had finally caught up. Or nearly. Carrie Anne’s bra size was still a teeny-weeny 32AA. And even though she claimed it was 34A, Sophie knew better because she had recently seen one of Carrie Anne’s bras on top of a laundry basket and checked it.
Sophie squared her shoulders and decided to take a more positive inventory of her appearance. Seriously, it was time to count her blessings, to be thankful for how God had made her. For one thing, she was able to walk, and her mind still worked okay. Not that it was much consolation.
She shook her head and took another good look at her image in the mirror. At least she was still sporting a pretty good tan, the result of spending all of August working at the church youth camp. And her legs were actually in pretty good shape. Running up and down all those trails, trying to keep up with the crazy middle school girls, had paid off.
“Hey, Sophie, you coming outta there anytime soon?” Carrie Anne asked.
Sophie grabbed up her cargo pants. “Yeah, I’m still getting dressed.”
“I’m going to get that last pair of jeans I tried on. Meet me at the cash register, okay?”
“Sounds good.” Sophie pulled on her loose pants. The well-worn fabric felt cool and soft against her skin, fantastic com- pared to that last pair of horrid jeans. She slipped into her Banana Republic flip-flops and reached for her bag. Carrie Anne would probably appreciate it if Sophie fixed up her face a bit. Besides, who knew whom she might run into here at the mall? So she put on some fresh lip gloss, adjusted her smudged mascara, and even removed the haphazard ponytail, brushing and fluffing out her naturally wavy hair. There, much better. Carrie Anne juggled her shopping bags, holding up her latest purchase like a trophy as the cashier placed her change on the counter. “I’m almost out of money now.”
“Big surprise there.”
“And I’m starving.” Carrie Anne dropped one of her sacks. “Ready for lunch?”
Sophie picked up the fallen bag. “Need some help with those?”
“Yeah.” Carrie Anne shoved the largest bag toward Sophie— it was from Macy’s and looked like it was about to fall apart. “Take this one too. It’s what you get for not buying anything yourself.”
“Maybe I’ll find something after lunch.” Sophie rearranged her purse to accommodate the oversized bag. “And next time I’ll try one size bigger.”
“Or . . . ,” Carrie Anne’s voice sounded cautious, “. . . you could get a really great pair of jeans that are one size too small and use them as an incentive to shed a couple of pounds.”
Sophie nodded. “Yeah . . . I guess that could work.” But even as she said this, she knew it was ridiculous. Carrie Anne and her mom were always full of “great” ideas for losing weight. The problem was, although they