chapter 13

Chapter 13

I always thought that after becoming a middle school student, the first difficulties I’d encounter would be academic problems or social relationships. After all, the subjects are so hard, and the classmates are all strangers.

But two weeks passed, and none of the things I worried about actually happened.

The teachers explained the lessons thoroughly, and I was able to keep up completely. My seat was surrounded by girls, and everyone got along very well.

Gradually, I adapted to life in middle school.

Maybe I would spend the next three years as uneventfully as I was now, or so I thought-until one PE class, when the PE Teacher organized a class fitness test.

The very first challenge of my life finally arrived, and I never would have imagined it would be-

Weighing myself.

I remember it clearly. It was a drizzly, gray day-the kind of weather I liked least, with the people I liked least, doing the thing I liked least. All three collided at once.

Above the blackboard, the banner with the eight characters, “Study well and make progress every day,” was strikingly displayed.

The scale was set at the classroom door. The Class Sports Monitor had made a small stool out of books and sat next to it recording. Everyone else lined up outside, and the PE Teacher called out names from the list-one name, one student entered, one measurement at a time.

“Zhang Yun, 149, 39.”

“Song Nianci, 155, 43.”

“Li Hao, 152, 47.”

“Peng Shuaishuai, 147, 48.5.”

“Ye Meng, …”

The line outside the classroom grew shorter and shorter. Some of the nosier boys, after finishing their own tests, didn’t leave. Instead, they crowded around the scale, and as soon as a result came out, they would shout the numbers loudly, their tone extremely unpleasant.

I was at the back of the line, waiting idly. I had no idea how long I waited before it was finally my turn.

The scale sat there quietly. Without thinking, I stepped onto it.

Those boys swarmed around like bloodthirsty mosquitoes. Under the gaze of dozens of eyes, the pointer spun, trembled a few times, and finally settled just above “47.”

“Oh my god!” a boy suddenly shrieked, his face full of exaggerated drama, “…Lu Manman, you’re way too fat!”

As soon as he finished, someone else echoed, “Fatty girl!”

A burst of laughter erupted all around me.

The boy who’d cried out was laughing the most exaggeratedly, even slapping his thigh. Seeing this, everyone else laughed even harder.

His performance only grew more dramatic.

You could tell he was enjoying the attention.

“Quiet!”

The PE Teacher scolded sternly. The laughter gradually subsided, but it didn’t disappear. Instead, it turned into whispers, and those secret, mocking glances still quietly fell on me.

The PE Teacher glanced at the height chart behind me.

“Lu Manman, 152, 48.5.”

Another thunderous burst of laughter. For the boys, this number was as astonishing as Columbus discovering the New World-Lu Manman, you’re too fat, you’re the heaviest girl in our class.

Such a sensational event. They were so shocked, their looks and words were all full of ridicule.

Before this, I had no concept of weight. I never imagined that one day, a number could become someone’s excuse to attack me.

But I wasn’t as fragile as they thought.

Clenching my fist and steadying my breath, I gave a quick glance around, locked eyes on the boy who started it all, let out a scoff, and said loudly, “As if I eat at your house! Psycho.”

“Psycho, hahahaha!”

At our age, “psycho” was a trendy insult. When I said that, the people around, like grass blowing in the wind, immediately turned and started making fun of him instead.

The scrawny boy’s face turned bright red, and, both angry and embarrassed, he started arguing with others.

I strolled calmly back to my seat.

As soon as I sat down, all the girls around me gave me a thumbs-up: “Manman, that was a great comeback!”

“Exactly! What does our weight have to do with them?”

Everyone’s been suffering from psychos for too long.

It seemed my retort really was both sharp and satisfying.

For the next few days, I acted completely normal-going to class, eating, sleeping on time-but to say that this incident didn’t affect me at all would be a lie.

Whenever I had a free moment, I would still remember those harsh laughs, and then recall my own weight.

I couldn’t help but ask myself: Am I really that heavy?

“Where’s the heavy part? Where?”

After understanding what happened, Dad was quite unhappy. “…For five thousand years, our type has always been the standard in China. What do those little boys know? They’re just talking nonsense with their eyes wide open! When they say someone is fat, maybe they should look at themselves. All these years since the reform and opening up, have their parents’ salaries increased? Are they working hard? Do they even buy fish or meat for their kids?”
After saying this, he touched my face. “So round and cute, so lively-just like your mother!”

The thing my father was most proud of in his life was that, in those days of scarcity, when even money couldn’t buy you much, he managed to keep my mother fair-skinned, plump, and healthy. Unfortunately, as she grew up, she slimmed down, and her round, dumpling-like face turned into an oval one.

Whenever he talked about this, my father would feel so sorry: he had fed her well, so how did she get so thin?

He would sigh and regret it to himself, while on the other side, Cheng Yubai had already finished peeling the apple.

He was a very meticulous person. Before meals, he would scald my chopsticks and bowl with hot water, and the fruit he brought to me was always peeled, cut, and arranged neatly. In summer, he would even remove the seeds from grapes one by one.

The apple pieces were neatly arranged on a white porcelain plate, with a small fork stuck in them, pushed in front of me. Cheng Yubai picked up another apple, sliced it in half with a small knife-one half for my father, one half for himself.

He hadn’t said a word just now.

I couldn’t bear to deprive myself either, so I picked up a piece of apple and popped it into my mouth. As I chewed, I asked, “Cheng Yubai, do you think I’m heavy? Am I fat?”

“Manman.” Cheng Yubai sighed softly and asked in return, “Does it matter what I think, what your father thinks, what anyone thinks? If you only care about other people’s opinions, there are so many people in the world-are you going to cater to every single one of them?”

I mumbled, “How could I? Wouldn’t that wear me out?”

“Exactly.”

Cheng Yubai took the fork from my hand, picked up a piece of apple, and gestured for me to open my mouth. “…Trying to please thousands and thousands of others is exhausting. Why not just please one person-yourself? As long as you’re satisfied, that’s enough.

“There is no standard for beauty. Tall, short, fat, thin-each has its own charm.

“Manman, as far as I’m concerned, your weight is just a number. Its only meaning is to tell us: you are growing up healthy.”

The fruit on the plate gradually disappeared, and Cheng Yubai’s hands never stopped moving.

At last, he looked into my eyes and said very seriously, “Manman, you are an extraordinary girl. You’re smart, independent, keen at noticing details and thinking them through, and you’ve always known what you want.

“Even if I don’t say it, you can figure these things out for yourself-it just takes a little longer.”

I nodded again and again as I listened.

Cheng Yubai was right. I have so many strengths-why obsess over a single number?

Besides, who says being chubby isn’t beautiful?

I remembered Ms. Zhu, who taught us art in third grade. She was amazing at painting and always spoke gently and kindly. She had a fuller figure, but we all thought she was beautiful, especially when she wore a cheongsam-she had such poise.

It wasn’t that the cheongsam made her look good; on the contrary, it was because she wore it that the cheongsam looked especially beautiful.

Ms. Zhu’s charm came from her character, not her weight. In other words, whether she was tall or short, fat or thin, it didn’t affect how much we liked her, did it?

So yes, beauty truly has no standard.

Thinking back on all my moments with Ms. Zhu, I deeply understood and agreed with this.

When I returned to school, my mindset had changed. Facing those boys who attacked me about my weight, I only found them boring and shallow, ignorant and dull.

Much later, one day, I suddenly understood-

Back then, girls actually cared more about reason and intelligence. We admired those who excelled academically or had special talents, and didn’t care much about height or figure. Boys, on the other hand, were more blunt and direct; they cared about girls’ weight even more than the girls themselves.

Because a girl with a normal weight meant she was healthy and strong, and hard to tame.

Skinny boys feared they couldn’t overpower her; boys of average build needed to make sure they could. So, to solve this problem, the best way was-

To use certain words to guide us into becoming what they wanted.

That’s how weight-shaming began.

Fortunately, not everyone falls for it, and no one falls for it forever.

Of course, that’s all in the future.

Right now, I’m still just a little girl who loves beauty.

Sunday, street corner.

I clutched the one yuan I’d saved for a roasted chicken leg, unable to take my eyes off the cosmetics ad outside the shop.

Cheng Yubai took two steps back. “Manman?”

I turned my head, my eyes sparkling as I looked at him, but my hand pointed at the colorful ad.

“Cheng Yubai-

“This one, this one is so pretty!”