0002: ENLARGE YOUR BOOBS
918 Words
The caption read:
"When you shoot your shot and miss. #LoserGirl #CringeFest”
I clicked play, even though every part of me screamed not to. There I was, small and pathetic, begging Jordan not to leave me while his friends laughed in the background. The comments started scrolling automatically below the video.
"She really thought she had a chance?? LOL."
"Why would Jordan even date her in the first place? She’s so… ew."
"Girl, have some self-respect. This is just sad."
"Omg, her face when he said 'I’m with Amanda now.' I’m dead. 💀💀💀"
The memes came next; screenshots of my crying face with captions like:
"When you thought you were the main character but you’re just comic relief."
"Plot twist: She’s the reason Jordan upgraded to Amanda."
I felt sick.
My stomach churned, and my vision blurred as more tears spilled over. I wanted to throw my phone across the room, but it cost a fortune and I couldn’t stop scrolling.
And then I saw his comment.
Jordan.
"I never liked her anyway. She wasn’t my type. Just a game meant to be played, and I couldn't last even a month with the child's play."
My breath hitched.
My chest ached so much I thought I might actually break in half. But it wasn’t over. Right beneath his comment was Amanda’s.
"My boyfriend would never stoop so low. #StayInYourLane #LoserGirl"
The likes on their comments were in the hundreds. People were replying with laughing emojis, heart emojis, as if this was some kind of twisted entertainment.
I couldn’t look away. Yet, the more I scrolled, the worse it got.
People I didn’t even know were piling on, making jokes about how pathetic I was, how desperate I looked, how Jordan was right to leave me. No one; not a single person, thought what he did was wrong.
I clutched my phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. My tears started falling freely now as the pain in my chest grew unbearable.
I wanted to scream.
To throw my phone, to break something, to disappear completely. But all I could do was sit there, staring at the screen, as the online world ripped me apart piece by piece.
I closed the app, tossing my phone onto the bed as if it had burned me. But even without it, their words echoed in my mind. It was on repeat. Over and over until I thought I might go insane.
I curled up in a ball, hugging my knees to my chest as the sobs came again, harder this time.
How could he do this to me? How could they all be so cruel?
I didn’t know how long I stayed like that, crying until my throat was raw and my eyes were swollen. But eventually, the room grew dark. The only light was the one coming from the faint glow of my phone screen, still buzzing with notifications I couldn’t bring myself to check.
I had never felt so small, so worthless, so utterly alone.
_____
The faint hum of voices downstairs; Dad’s booming tone, Kyle’s laugh, Carlos and Carl’s twin banter, and mother trying to talk over them all.. I couldn't even join in my family's banter anymore.
I pulled my knees tighter to my chest, burying my face in the pillow I’d soaked with tears.
My glasses had been shoved to the side, fogged up from all the crying. The tissues and napkins I’d been using were scattered around like fallen soldiers, and my face was a complete mess.
I could barely open my eyes; they stung so bad.
If I left this room, I knew what would happen.
Dad would ask if I was okay in that soft but overly worried way that made me feel like a fragile porcelain doll. Kyle would probably nudge me and say something like, “You’ve got this, Mia.”
Carl and Carlos would start teasing each other until one of them eventually said something dumb about “that jerk Jordan,” which would end with them fighting.
And Mom?
Oh, Mom would just sigh and ask why I couldn’t be more like Mandy.
I sniffled and wiped my nose with the sleeve of my sweater.
Four days.
Four days since Jordan decided I wasn’t worth his time anymore. Four days since he crushed me in front of the entire school. And now, it felt like the whole world knew.
I turned on my phone and opened the educational posts app I followed; part distraction, part self-punishment. The first post that popped up was from a real-life celebrity, someone I admired: Zendaya.
The caption read:
"You don’t have to look down on yourself. That ex who broke your heart? Use that pain to become better. Glow up. Make them regret losing you."
I stared at it, rereading it again and again.
The comments were flooded with hashtags:
#GetBackAtThem #GlowUpChallenge #LevelUpYourLife
I wanted to believe it, but it felt impossible. How could I glow up when I felt like I’d been dimmed to nothing?
My screen dimmed, and I bit my lip, hesitating before opening my browser. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, and then I typed:
“How does a 17 year old girl become attractive?”
The results were overwhelming. Articles, videos, forums; they all had answers.
“Enlarge your boobs.”
“Get a man who values you.”
“Gain weight to look thicker.”
“Wear tight clothes and flirt more.”
Mia: “....”
- Writer
