Fat Girl-Personal Narrative Essay

When I was six, my brother was burden with the responsibility to watch me, and his main hangout was the trailer park. On the other side of it were where his friends, the Fat Boys, lived. I can only remember they were obese and little dull at times, not their names or their faces. Alex would go into their house and play their game system, leaving me alone with her. “Hey Jessica,” | greeted shyly one day. Jessica appeared similar one of her brothers, who reminded me of mice straining their eyes all the time. She wore a childish smile that might break any moment and greeted me.

We would’ve headed to the forest area or the abandoned trailer, but instead she wanted to play tag. She raced ahead of me, “Hurry up, already! Last one there is the tagger! ” Now, I’m always the last one there, because “there” was wherever she chose. And I was already irritated because I hoped we would go back to the trailer. This was unlike me. I always went along with her plans, but something was definitely amiss with me that day. I tried telling her I didn’t want to play tag, but she only rolled her eyes and stated firmly, “And I’m not going to play in that dull trailer. She turned and headed back into her house. I scattered away into the depths of the trailer park. Desolation filled the pit of my stomach, however, I didn’t intend head back and hear her say something like, “My dad said… ” After a while, I started hearing kids’ laughter.

I have never seen other kids on my last visits, it was always just me and Jessica. Were they new? Did Jessica avoid them purposefully? I walked from behind the red trailer and spotted them. Two boys who frantically raced away, and a little girl covered her eyes and counted down while jumbling the numbers. Hey,” I called out docilely. She didn’t seem to notice, so I called out again. She spread her fingers apart and peered through them. Now conscious that I was another kid, she quickly crossed the distance between us. Her face filled with curiosity about me. She was a mixed girl with her hair tied in various colored beads. One of her front teeth was missing, and I could see that she was pressing against the vacant space with her tongue.

Thid my hands behind my back, and asked, “Is it alright if I play with you guys? ” She giggled, “Of course! I’m seeking right now. I told her my name, and she replied with, “Rhonoda. Like the animal. ” With that, I ran off behind the trailers. The entire conflict with Jessica seemed to have drifted off to the back of my head. I was dedicated to the game. Occasionally we hid together, while other times, I went from one spot to the next. We stopped once Rhonoda called time-out, saying it was time to check in with their parents. Somehow, I went with her into the bleached red trailer. I stood in front of her grandmother and cousin, who idly played Spyro (I did not know the game until much later).

Rhonoda pointed at a chair for me to sit, and headed behind the hippie curtain; easily-tangled, purple beads that dangled down from the doorway. My eyes shifted from the curtain to the game, until she finally returned and waved at me to follow her out. I was relieved once I stepped out; I’m not comfortable with strangers. We tried searching for her brothers, but it seemed like to they found a new activity elsewhere. Her head tilted to the side and she asked, “Shouldn’t you check-in too? ” I wanted to delay it, so I replied, “Maybe later. ” “Won’t you get in trouble? It was inevitable that I must head back, so I went.

She walked me over to the edge of the trailer park. For an odd reason, Jessica stood in her parking lot, waiting for me to return. Her eyes moved from me to Rhonoda, and her cheeks reddened. Rhonoda didn’t seem to notice at first, simply introducing herself to Jessica, but her smile faded from the cold astrosphere. She glanced at me woefully before saying goodbye. When I was a child, I didn’t truly understand, but now looking back, I’ve realized. Her family saw themselves regally over the tenants of the trailer park people, even though they weren’t doing much well.

However, Jessica viewed herself notable over everyone, including me. Jessica was obliviously mad, and stated, “She’s black! Why are you playing with her?! ” She noticed that I was baffled, and continued, “You can’t be friends with them. ” “What do you mean? We were playing hide-and-seek, that’s all. ” “You just can’t. ” Our next visit, everything was normal yet different. Like the only entity different was I. When I stood in front of a patch of grass where her trailer was, I asked, “Where’s Rhonoda? ” Jessica asked, “Who is Rhonoda? ” She wasn’t joking, it was a genuine question.

Somehow I found the two boys who were in the midst of wrestling. When I questioned them about Rhonoda, they replied, “We never had a sister. ” I assumed they were siblings because how close they seemed, but I was wrong. Still, they didn’t know who Rhonoda was. Every person who heard the story would say it was my imagination. I know when my imaginary friends were fake, yet | remember Rhonoda as a living person, with distinct details from her beaded curtain and pony tails, and that game. Even eleven years afterwards, I go back to this memory and attempt to piece it together. Was it a realistic dream or an actual memory?