Princess Mia (The Princess Diaries 9)

But my bra didn’t fit either! I mean, I realize it’s been a while since I put on any underwear, since I was in my Hello Kitty pajamas for most of the week.

And I will admit I noticed things have been getting a little snug all over lately. And I’ve only worn my jeans with stretch in them. And had to use the last hooks on all my bras.

And even then they leave marks on me.

But when I put on my favorite bra this morning, for the first time in my life, I had CLEAVAGE, because it was squeezing my boobs so tight.

That’s right. I actually have boobs to be squeezed. I don’t know where they came from, but I looked down, and there they were. Hello! Boobs!

So then I thought maybe the laundry-by-the-pound place had shrunk my bra too. So I tried a different one. Same thing. Then another. SAME THING. I couldn’t understand it.

But when I got to the SoHo Medical Clinic and they FINALLY called my name, and I went in, and they weighed me, I found out what was going on. I was SHOCKED to find that I weighed almost SIX Fat Louies!

That is nearly one more Fat Louie than I weighed last time I stepped on a scale! Which I’ll admit was a while ago, but still!

And, okay, maybe I’ve been hitting the meat kind of hard this past week or so. Well, not just the meat, but the pizza, the Girl Scout cookies, the peanut butter, the cold sesame noodles, the Honey Nut Cheerios, the microwave popcorn (with melted butter), the Oreos, the Häagen-Dazs, and the fried samosas from Baluchi’s….

But to have gained almost a whole CAT?

Wow. That is all I have to say. Just…wow.

Of course, there was a rational explanation beyond the meat. Dr. Fung went, “You’re still well within the body-mass-index range for your height, Princess. It’s actually quite normal to have these sort of growth spurts at your age. Some women have them even into their twenties.”

Because I haven’t just grown out. I’ve grown up—I’m five feet ten inches now. I grew a whole other INCH since the last time I was at the doctor’s office!

If I keep going like this, I’ll be six feet tall by the time I’m eighteen.

On the bright side of gaining a whole Fat Louie? I guess I’m not flat-chested anymore.

On the not-so-bright side? I’m going to have to talk to Mom about getting new bras. And panties. And jeans. And pajamas. And sweats. And a new school uniform.

And new ball gowns.

Oh, God.

But whatever. Like I don’t have way bigger things to worry about (ha) than the size of my chest (gargantuan) and the fact that my skirt is being held together by pieces of metal and all of my jeans are too short. I mean, there’s the fact that in half an hour I’m going to have to go down to the cafeteria.

And see Lilly.

Who will no doubt take her tray and go sit elsewhere when she sees me.

Which…well, whatever. I know Tina will still want to sit with me. That is the only thing, in fact, that is keeping me from turning to Lars and going, “We’re leaving,” and marching straight out of this loony bin.

In fact it’s a good thing Dr. Knutz mentioned Tina yesterday, because every time I start to feel too much like I am slipping back down this hole I’m trying to crawl out of, I think of her, and it’s like she’s a root or something I can grab hold of to keep from sliding farther into the black abyss of despair.

I wonder how Tina would feel if she found out I think of her as a root?

Of course, I have way worse things to worry about than who I’m going to sit with at lunch: the fact that I’m in therapy and I don’t want anyone to know; the fact that in a week I’m allegedly going to have to address a couple thousand of New York City’s most influential businesswomen; the fact that the love of my life just wants to be friends (and see other people) and that I no longer have him to be my loving support system and so have been cast adrift to swim the social seas of adolescence alone; the fact that the meat industry pumps so many hormones into their products that just by consuming a few dozen ham sandwiches and servings of kung pao chicken over the past week, I have finally managed to grow breasts virtually overnight; ihatemiathermopolis.com; the fact that both the polar ice caps are melting due to anthropogenic global warming and the polar bears are all drowning.

But I’m trying to take all of my worries one at a time. Baby steps, like Rocky took when he was first starting to walk. Baby steps. First I need to get through lunch. Then I’ll worry about the polar ice caps.

Four more hours until I can get out of here.

Friday, September 17, Gifted and Talented

Great. So now I have another worry to add to the list:

Apparently, the entire school thinks J.P. and I are going out.