After a few minutes, the bus pulls up and we get one. It's not empty, but not too full either. We grab a seat in the back. She says, "can I borrow you... sweater?" Thinking she's cold, and being a bit chivalrous, I slip it off and hand it to her. Instead of putting it on, she spreads it over our laps. The next thing I know, there's a hand on my crotch. "Well," she says, "you certainly seem happy to see me. I'm happy to see you too." She guides my hand under the sweater and I realize she's not. In a very shallow way that made me feel ashamed, I thought I looked good beside fat Gracie. I felt that if men had to choose, they would prefer me to fat little Gracie. The girls, my friends, were all so much better looking than me, more attractive in every way, but Gracie was fat and I had pretty good body. Every time I went out with the girls, I looked even more unattractive alongside them. I thought I looked good beside Gracie. I hated that feeling but I couldn't ignore it.And part of me. More

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