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the cellulite poured through the lace netting of her skin, pulsating to the rhythym of her steps. children pointed and giggled at her obesity and the stretchmarks she exaggerated. Her head hung low with shame, and her gelatinous arm reached out to receive the icecream cone she ordered from Dairy Queen. She smiled awkwardly, with pouches of fat on either side of her mouth bunching up, said thankyou, and left. she left a trail of pity in her footsteps, and a few "thank god thats not me" thoughts in self concious teen girls' heads. but that was someone, and someone referred to her as "me". She lived with this, her fat suit, but she was beautiful underneath. No one could see.
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