Empty
"-And these fitted you a month ago! I just can't believe how much weight you have put on! And maybe if you were prettier, people wouldn't notice your weight, but you take no pride in your appearance at all, do you?"
Roxanne tried to ignore her mother's comments, but it was too hard. As her mother continued, she felt tears prickling in her eyes.
"You just eat and eat ands eat! But only you can stop, and you obviously don't care!"
Roxanne wasn't even fat! She was average weight, but her mother seemed to think otherwise, and somehow managed to do nothing but insult her.
"I dread to think what you will look like a year from now!"
This last comment was just too much. Roxanne leapt up from the bed that she had been sitting on, anger pulsing through her body.
"SHUT UP! I'M NOT FAT! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" she found herself shouting, she was shaking with rage. Then, before her mother could issue another smart comment, she grabbed the nearest object, a large book, and hurled it across the room.
"GET OUT!" she screamed, even more loudly than before. Her mother gave her a cold glare, and swept out of the room. Roxanne was left standing alone, tears now falling freely down her face, although she was not sure if they were tears of anger, or tears of grief.
"I hate her..." she said quietly to herself.
This was an all to familiar scene in the Davis household. Roxanne's mother wanted the perfect daughter, one that she could show off to her friends, in hope that their daughters would envy Roxanne, and the mothers would look up to her. But this plan could never work. Roxanne was no porcelain doll, and would not allow anyone to change who she was.
Roxanne looked in the mirror and sighed. 'Why can't she see that I'm not fat?' she thought. There was almost no fat on her. She had a curvy figure, which in her opinion was what a woman should look like; she thought it unattractive for women to have stick-thin bodies, almost boys' figures. She was definitely not ugly either. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back, perfectly straight, and her startling eyes stood out like coals from her pale skin. Somebody had once told her that she looked like an angel, but that hadn't satisfied her mother.
Roxanne glanced up at the clock. It had been almost five minutes since she had lost her temper. 'Any minute now' she thought. The same thing happened every day. Her mother would insult her about her weight, she would lose her temper, and then 5 minutes later, her mother would come in saying that she was sorry, and it was just a joke. Sometimes Roxanne accepted the apology, just to stop arguing, but when she was feeling particularly enraged, she could not just back down, and would reject the request for forgiveness.
There was a gentle knock on the door, and she heard a guilty voice.
"Roxanne? Are you all right? Can I come in?"
"No" she replied shortly.
But her mother ignored her, and the door opened.
"Look. I'm very sorry darling. It was just a joke! You look lovely just the way you are, and I would hate for you to change. But if only you would cut down a little on your meals...you would look even better!" she said, in her most understanding voice. Her hand had crept up to Roxanne's shoulder, which was just too much.
"What? I cannot believe that you just said that! No. You aren't the least bit sorry are you? And if you think that I am just going to lie down and let you walk all over me, you are very wrong!" she replied, pushing her mother's hand away from her shoulder.
"Well fine then! You be stubborn, but I guarantee that it won't get you anywhere."
"I'm not being stubborn! You really offended me, and to be perfectly honest with you, I hate you!" she said, her voice rapidly rising. Stubborn? This was all her mother's fault!
"Right. No dinner." Her mother snapped. She headed towards the door, and slammed it behind her. Roxanne waited for the footsteps to die away, then sat down at her small desk, and started to write. It was a letter to a pen friend, a girl who lived far away from her. She had a few pen friends, and wrote to them a lot, quite often about her troubles. This particular letter explained all of the troubles that she had been facing with her family. She wrote about how her mother was forcing her to become someone she wasn't, and how her younger sister Beth always seemed to overshadow her. She didn't want to seem like she was complaining, but she couldn't keep her troubles to herself.
She finished the letter, and placed it in a brown envelope, making a mental note to post it in the morning. 'I wish there was a faster way to contact people' she thought to herself.
It was getting quite late, and Roxanne's stomach was growling with hunger. Her mother had taken her comment about no dinner seriously, as Roxanne had heard her mother complimenting her sister Beth as they ate, at least two hours ago. Beth was an angel in her mothers' eyes, and could do know wrong. She was ten years old, and already wore a corset. From Roxanne's point of view, she was trying to grow up too fast.
It was hard for her having a sister that everyone saw as perfect. It made her blend in to the background, while Beth was achieving so much. She always did better at everything than Roxanne, it didn't matter what it was. She was an overachiever. And boy did she know it. Even if Roxanne were good at everything, she wouldn't show off about it. But Beth was the opposite. Every time she saw an opportunity to brag, she would seize it, and milk it for all it was worth. If it were anyone else, the villagers would be bored sick of them receiving awards at festivities, but with Beth it was a different case. Everybody loved her, everybody except Roxanne. She was a shallow person, caring about nothing more than popularity. Roxanne however, was her own person, and didn't care what other people thought of her. She would have liked to fall in love, but didn't let being single bring her down. She had a group of close friends, but didn't enjoy being part of a large crowd, while Beth had a large group of admirers that followed her everywhere.
The clock outside struck eleven, and Roxanne yawned. She had to be awake early in the morning; she was going shopping with her mother and her mothers' friend.
"-And these fitted you a month ago! I just can't believe how much weight you have put on! And maybe if you were prettier, people wouldn't notice your weight, but you take no pride in your appearance at all, do you?"
Roxanne tried to ignore her mother's comments, but it was too hard. As her mother continued, she felt tears prickling in her eyes.
"You just eat and eat ands eat! But only you can stop, and you obviously don't care!"
Roxanne wasn't even fat! She was average weight, but her mother seemed to think otherwise, and somehow managed to do nothing but insult her.
"I dread to think what you will look like a year from now!"
This last comment was just too much. Roxanne leapt up from the bed that she had been sitting on, anger pulsing through her body.
"SHUT UP! I'M NOT FAT! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" she found herself shouting, she was shaking with rage. Then, before her mother could issue another smart comment, she grabbed the nearest object, a large book, and hurled it across the room.
"GET OUT!" she screamed, even more loudly than before. Her mother gave her a cold glare, and swept out of the room. Roxanne was left standing alone, tears now falling freely down her face, although she was not sure if they were tears of anger, or tears of grief.
"I hate her..." she said quietly to herself.
This was an all to familiar scene in the Davis household. Roxanne's mother wanted the perfect daughter, one that she could show off to her friends, in hope that their daughters would envy Roxanne, and the mothers would look up to her. But this plan could never work. Roxanne was no porcelain doll, and would not allow anyone to change who she was.
Roxanne looked in the mirror and sighed. 'Why can't she see that I'm not fat?' she thought. There was almost no fat on her. She had a curvy figure, which in her opinion was what a woman should look like; she thought it unattractive for women to have stick-thin bodies, almost boys' figures. She was definitely not ugly either. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back, perfectly straight, and her startling eyes stood out like coals from her pale skin. Somebody had once told her that she looked like an angel, but that hadn't satisfied her mother.
Roxanne glanced up at the clock. It had been almost five minutes since she had lost her temper. 'Any minute now' she thought. The same thing happened every day. Her mother would insult her about her weight, she would lose her temper, and then 5 minutes later, her mother would come in saying that she was sorry, and it was just a joke. Sometimes Roxanne accepted the apology, just to stop arguing, but when she was feeling particularly enraged, she could not just back down, and would reject the request for forgiveness.
There was a gentle knock on the door, and she heard a guilty voice.
"Roxanne? Are you all right? Can I come in?"
"No" she replied shortly.
But her mother ignored her, and the door opened.
"Look. I'm very sorry darling. It was just a joke! You look lovely just the way you are, and I would hate for you to change. But if only you would cut down a little on your meals...you would look even better!" she said, in her most understanding voice. Her hand had crept up to Roxanne's shoulder, which was just too much.
"What? I cannot believe that you just said that! No. You aren't the least bit sorry are you? And if you think that I am just going to lie down and let you walk all over me, you are very wrong!" she replied, pushing her mother's hand away from her shoulder.
"Well fine then! You be stubborn, but I guarantee that it won't get you anywhere."
"I'm not being stubborn! You really offended me, and to be perfectly honest with you, I hate you!" she said, her voice rapidly rising. Stubborn? This was all her mother's fault!
"Right. No dinner." Her mother snapped. She headed towards the door, and slammed it behind her. Roxanne waited for the footsteps to die away, then sat down at her small desk, and started to write. It was a letter to a pen friend, a girl who lived far away from her. She had a few pen friends, and wrote to them a lot, quite often about her troubles. This particular letter explained all of the troubles that she had been facing with her family. She wrote about how her mother was forcing her to become someone she wasn't, and how her younger sister Beth always seemed to overshadow her. She didn't want to seem like she was complaining, but she couldn't keep her troubles to herself.
She finished the letter, and placed it in a brown envelope, making a mental note to post it in the morning. 'I wish there was a faster way to contact people' she thought to herself.
It was getting quite late, and Roxanne's stomach was growling with hunger. Her mother had taken her comment about no dinner seriously, as Roxanne had heard her mother complimenting her sister Beth as they ate, at least two hours ago. Beth was an angel in her mothers' eyes, and could do know wrong. She was ten years old, and already wore a corset. From Roxanne's point of view, she was trying to grow up too fast.
It was hard for her having a sister that everyone saw as perfect. It made her blend in to the background, while Beth was achieving so much. She always did better at everything than Roxanne, it didn't matter what it was. She was an overachiever. And boy did she know it. Even if Roxanne were good at everything, she wouldn't show off about it. But Beth was the opposite. Every time she saw an opportunity to brag, she would seize it, and milk it for all it was worth. If it were anyone else, the villagers would be bored sick of them receiving awards at festivities, but with Beth it was a different case. Everybody loved her, everybody except Roxanne. She was a shallow person, caring about nothing more than popularity. Roxanne however, was her own person, and didn't care what other people thought of her. She would have liked to fall in love, but didn't let being single bring her down. She had a group of close friends, but didn't enjoy being part of a large crowd, while Beth had a large group of admirers that followed her everywhere.
The clock outside struck eleven, and Roxanne yawned. She had to be awake early in the morning; she was going shopping with her mother and her mothers' friend.