But then he asks, “Why are you embarrassed?”
And since I have nothing else to lose, I give the truth another go.
“Because I’m fat.”
It’s done. The word is out. The same way things changed when Caio said, “I’m gay,” things change when I say, “I’m fat.” Because fat is the kind of word people try to hide, no matter the cost. Everyone says “chubby” or “big boned,” but never “FAT.” Fat is a word you can never take back. When you declare something, even if it’s obvious to everyone already, it becomes real.
Caio takes a deep breath and, once again, seems to be choosing his words carefully. In general, that annoys me. It’s really bad to be the person who always has to wait for an answer because other people are being careful with their words. I feel fragile, and I hate feeling that way.
“You shouldn’t be ashamed of being who you are.”
I take a deep breath so I don’t say, “Easy for you to say when you’re skinny, Caio.” I hold back because I know he’s only trying to help.
Anyone else might have advised me to lose weight. I’m so tired of listening to diet tips I never asked for or exercises I don’t want to try. Caio could have acted like everyone else. But it makes me happy to know that he’s not like that.
We remain quiet for a while. My mind goes back and forth between the relief of putting it all out there and the ridiculousness of needing to hang a blanket over a window in order to tell the guy I like that I’m fat.
Luckily, my mom walks through the front door, calling my name. I run to open the bedroom door and step out of the darkness. Caio is right behind me, and we spend the rest of the afternoon pretending like nothing ever happened.
One thing you need to know about my mom is that she’s totally obsessed with cable TV. She’ll watch anything: cooking shows, documentaries about animals, bizarre reality shows, and shows about hoarders. I don’t complain because I love it, too.
A while ago, she came up with themed nights, like Culinary Mondays (when the two of us would cook together), Stylish Thursdays (basically, laundry day), and Décor Saturdays (when we’d try to put all the decoration tips we’d learned into practice, using only materials that we had at home, and obviously it all turned out hideous). None of the themes lasted very long. Except Musical Wednesdays. Contrary to what the name might suggest, Musical Wednesdays are not for karaoke (which wouldn’t be an awful idea). My mom discovered she loves musicals after she watched Mamma Mia! for the first time, and ever since, we’ve watched one musical every week, always on Wednesdays. Thanks to that, I’ve found a lot of incredible movies, and some not as incredible. (Did The Sound of Music really need to be three hours long?)
If you’re wondering what my favorite musicals are, fear not! I have the list ready:
The Wizard of Oz (1939): One of the best classics of all time. Besides the really fun songs, it has everything a good story needs: friendship, a strong lesson, and witches.
Les Misérables (2012): My mom hated it, but I couldn’t care less. This movie is amazing! I cried from the beginning to the end. I fell in love with all the characters who basically sing their every line. Les Misérables serves as proof that Hugh Jackman is the hottest man in the world, even when he’s covered in mud from head to toe.
Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954): This movie tells the story of a woman who marries a guy to escape her hard life as a cook at a bar. The guy is good-looking, and he has a nice beard and a house in the hills. When she gets to said house, she finds out that the handsome man has seven lazy brothers, and they all expect her to cook, do the dishes, and clean the house. But, of course, she doesn’t! She teaches them some basic life skills (such as taking showers).
Dreamgirls (2006): One word: Beyoncé.
Footloose (1984; for god’s sake, do not watch the remake!): A super-young Kevin Bacon moves to a city where, believe it or not, it’s forbidden to dance. He breaks all the rules, everyone dances together, and in the end there’s glitter rain.
We’re all in the kitchen when my mom explains the dynamics of Musical Wednesdays to Caio. At first, I can’t tell if he’s excited or desperate.
“Since you are our guest, you get to choose tonight’s movie!” she says.
He flashes a smile. “Are there any rules?”
“It has to be a musical. And it has to have a happy ending, because today I don’t want to cry,” my mom says, and Caio looks to be consulting his mental list of movies with happy endings.
“Can I make brigadeiro?” he asks.
“No need to ask twice!” my mom answers, handing him a pan.
Caio picked Hairspray—the 2007 version with John Travolta as a woman and Michelle Pfeiffer with all that Botox. Of course, I’d watched this one before. It’s fun, the music is amazing, and Zac Efron looks really cute. My mom, who had never heard of Hairspray until tonight, was all excited. She danced in her spot on the couch, but when the last song came on, she pulled me up and we danced to “You Can’t Stop the Beat” together. I was dying of embarrassment, but Caio got up, too, and the three of us danced until the credits rolled up on the screen.
It had been a while since we’d had such fun on Musical Wednesdays. And I can’t believe I just used that name as if the day were something official, and not something my mom made up.
By the time the movie ends, it’s already late, but I need to shower. I turn on the water and start thinking about Caio’s choice of movie and our humiliating conversation in the dark this afternoon. Hairspray is an incredible film about the fight for civil rights during segregation. It’s about conquering prejudice and opening spaces to all. It’s also a film about a fat protagonist who, in the end (spoiler alert!), ends up with Zac Efron!
The part of my brain that loves to come up with unlikely theories starts whirring, and I wonder if this could be a sign. Caio might be sending hints that he wants to be the Zac Efron of my life. Earlier today I told him I’m embarrassed to talk to him during the daytime. Because I’m fat, I said out loud. Then, a few hours later, he picked a movie with a lot of nice morals, one of them being It’s okay to be fat. And that makes me feel a little happy.
When I go back to my room, properly dressed in my sleeping shorts and an old Felix the Cat T-shirt (always very sexy), Caio is already in bed. He’s on the phone, talking to his mom. From what I gather, he’s trying to convince her that he wasn’t out in the rain in the last few days and that he doesn’t see how she got the idea that he sounds like he has a cold.
He hangs up and turns off the light, and we both lie there in the dark. I feel that little flutter in my stomach because I know now is our official time to talk. I’m afraid that things between us are going to be weird, or that Caio will start suggesting different ways for me to accept my body or, worse, get thin. So, as if our weird conversation earlier hadn’t happened, or as if Caio hadn’t picked a Musical Wednesdays movie that definitely was intended to be a message for me, I start a conversation in the most casual way I know how.
“Wanna play a game?” I ask.
“What kind of game?”
“It doesn’t have a name, because I made it up. But for now, we can call it The Best and Worst in the World.” I proceed to explain how we play, trying not to make it sound silly. “It works like this: One player names a category, and the other has to give both the best and the worst in the world in the category. But it’s only fun if you pick very specific categories to make the other player really think. You can’t say, like, fruit. Or color. Or things the other player will have a favorite and least favorite of already.”