Skylar Kleinschmidt had always been the punching bag for her family.
When she was a little girl, she had gone through a spoiled and mouthy phase; a holdover from getting to live with their grandparents while her mother lived with them for a while. That had been corrected by the time elementary school had run its course by way of her mother taking back full custody of her daughters and basically screaming her into submission. Then by the time High School had reared its ugly head, the running reason to pick on Skylar had become that she liked anime, did shit like buy Naruto headbands and wear them to school, and still seemed like she was smarter than everyone.
But more often than not, whenever her mama couldn’t think of anything else to use against her daughter in a verbal altercation, the reason why Skylar got picked on was because she was fat.
Make no mistake, Betty Kleinschmidt was just as big as her youngest was. Bigger, in fact. A lot of folk in their family tended to run big around the belt and fat in the tits, arms, and face; you would have been forgiven for thinking that Skylar’s mama might have gone easy on her for a lifelong weight problem in light of the fact that she was clocking in at four fifths of the way to four hundred pounds before she’d hit fifty. But unfortunately, in a world where people who ought not to have children sometimes have them far too early, we wind up in a world with the Betty Kleinschmidts.
“I don’t understand where I went wrong with you—nose in that damn phone all the time, watchin’ them Chinese cartoons.” Betty’s ring of neck fat flexed and creased as she reamed her youngest for breathing the same air as her, “You’d think you’d at least learn to eat right at that college you’re payin’ to go to. But instead, y’eat more than ever.”
Skylar had learned over her long life of being a wallflower that it was possible to tune her mother out. But unfortunately, when she was half a case of beer in, she got louder. And that, in turn, made her more difficult for her to ignore.
“Your sister’s the smart one.” Betty shrugged her heavy shoulders before taking another slurp from her umpteenth can of beer, “Works on the line, ain’t got no debt, an’ she’s makin’ enough money that soon she’ll be out on her own. Ain’t that right, Hol?”
Holly had been nose deep in her own social media feed, doing very much the same thing that her sister was doing, but having had the good grace of God to do it while being skinny. Whatever genes that had gone into effect that had turned Skylar into a perpetually chubby blonde that had blimped out faster than a water balloon on the Fourth of July had largely skipped Holly. She’d always been thin, at least when compared to her mother and her sister. To the rest of the world, she was a thick, chesty brunette with wild curls, a pretty face, and dark eyes. While she’d largely missed out on whatever brains had gone Skylar’s way, Holly’s pretty face and hitting puberty early had meant that she’d never really had to rely on her smarts growing up.
“Mama, stop pickin’ on Sky.” Holly groused, “She’s gonna grow up an’ put you in that nursin’ home with all that money she’s gonna make with her college degree.”
“Feh.” Betty grumbled as the couch creaked beneath her shifting weight, “She’s done enough growin’ since last year…”
Skylar pushed hard against the table and hauled herself up, jiggling tits and tummy first through the little trailer that had been the scene of so many of these conversations that she had almost learned to stop caring about them.
“You happy now?” Holly crossed her arms over her stomach, “You made her cry.”
“She’s gotta learn to stop bein’ so soft.” Betty’s chin crease deepened ever so slightly as she rubbed the hammy back of one calf-thick arm across her moth, “Gimme another beer, wouldja?”
Holly just rolled her eyes as she stood up from the chair in the living room to their little trailer, bypassing the fridge entirely as she cut into Skylar’s bedroom instead.
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