As you leave the men's room with the recently mixed concoction, all the ideas of what this choice could mean swim around in your head. 'Will people treat me differently just because I want to be like everyone else? Will I feel differently trying to be like them? How do I word this 'wish' to mean what I want it to mean?' are just a few of them. Stepping out of the hallway that leads back to the main floor of the shopping mall, you immerse yourself back into the groups of shoppers and head off to the food court. Seems a likely first stop. After years of eating home made meals made by a mom that insists you clean your plate, stuff yourself and eat as much as you want to the point of redundancy, you figure that maybe using this to bring out the fattening qualities of food would be the best. That way whatever you eat, whenever you eat will simply be more fattening that it really is so you could take things slow and not end up an overnight ball of lard, like in the Santa Clause. Thinking of that, as you stroll towards the food court, you pass one of the many movie stores that the mall has to offer and step in to wander a bit while thinking this one through. As you pass racks of CD's, DVD's and odd bits of novelty, you hear a familiar voice greeting you.
"(your name)," it's Monica, one of the cheer leaders from your high school. One of the ones that seemed to really notice you. You pocket the vial of green foaming potion which you realize that you've been gripping the whole time.
"Hey Monica," you respond, "Nice to see you here."
"Oh my God, I didn't think I'd see you here or anywhere in this mall by yourself," she glances at your pocket as you shove the vial inside. "Shopping for someone special?"
You chuckle and settle into an awkward stance. You've always like her, she wasn't a bottle blonde. You share a couple of classes with her, plus the time on the field during practices and games. She seems genuinely interested in you, but she has that sense of confidence that the popular kids in school have and you've never been sure if you could keep up.
"Oh, I was just here to get a CD," you shake the bag that you're holding to emphasize. "You?"
"I'm here all the time, I guess I sort of live here, ya know?"
You pause for a moment, an awkward one and think about how there doesn't seem to be an ounce of fat on her. You can make out her neck line, and shoulder bones so easily through the soft-looking blouse that she is wearing. And her breasts, oh my God, you think every time she points them your way.
"Yeah," is all you can manage.
"Yeah? So what are you looking for here?"
"I'm not sure," you say while absent mindedly fingering a stack of used DVDs, "Just sort of browsing."
"Shallow Hal? Really?" she asks when she notices you select one.
Not really paying attention, you realize which movie you just randomly grabbed. That movie that Jack Black was in with the fat chick, that wasn't really a fat chick. Interesting.
You continue to chat with Monica a bit, who seems very open to you asking her out, but you have something else you want to do. The movie you just picked out weighs heavily into that decision.
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