Pizza

This picture was taken right after my first soccer game. My grandpa grandma and me out to eat. It was also the first time in my entire life, that I had tasted pizza. As soon as I took the first bite, of that delicious cheese pizza, I felt like I was floating in the air. My mouth becomes very watery. I heard my grandparents arguing about the food, but I could have cared less. I was only nine years old and I had eaten five slices of a large pizza, the first time I had tried it.
When I went home; I felt sick. I threw up and was in bed for two days, but that didn’t stop me from, thinking about pizza.
After that day, I would go with my grandpa to that same restaurant, every Friday. I tried pepperoni pizza, sausage pizza, mushroom pizza, and even mushroom-pineapple pizza, but none of them tasted as good as the cheese pizza. By the time I was twelve years old, I was five feet tall, and weighted nearly two hundred pounds. Pizza no longer made my mouth watery, or made me sick because I had ate too much. It had become an addiction. It tasted like I was chewing on paper; but I couldn’t stop it, because when I did, I would not be able to go to sleep. I felt empty from the inside.
I was made fun of at school, because of my weight. Still pizza was the most important thing in my life. Then, one Friday before grandpa and I went to get pizza; my mom came back to see me. She said she had lung cancer, and that she wanted to spend the last days of her life with me.
I staid home with her. The first time in three years, I had missed pizza on a Friday. At night I couldn’t go to sleep. I felt depressed, and lonely. I went out into the living room, and saw my mom smoking. Without her noticing I picked up her cigarette and began to smoke. I felt dizzy and began to cough. I felt nauseous. It was a horrible feeling, but it was the only thing that put me to sleep that night. When I woke up in the morning, I had an awful headache. And before I knew it I was smoking a pack of cigarettes each day. I liked it because it was better than eating pizza every Friday, and I began to lose weight.
Soon after my mother died, but still I didn’t stop smoking like I hadn’t stopped eating pizza. Now I’m the one with lung cancer.

The Perfect Wedding Draft 3

There she was the most perfectly shaped body ever created, and she was to suppose to buy me. As she looked through the dress, I pictured her wearing me, walking down the aisle, looking like an angel. However, wait, out of the shadows the unshapeliest figure, looking at me. Every monstrous step she took, the floor shook beneath me. It was as if someone had unleashed Godzilla on to the unsuspected wedding shop, and I was her victim. If I had a mouth, I would have screamed.

I could not take my eyes of off that gorgeous, most attractive and charming dress. It was like, that dress was made just for me. I imagined how I would look on my wedding day, wearing it. However, for some reason I had the feeling the dress, hated me.

She squeezed herself though me, not noticing that the she had ripped my seaming. The shapely women, that dreamed to be worn by, looked at me as if I was her lost love forced into the arms of fat, ghastly, wicked women.

The dress was a bit tight for me, but I was still going to buy it because it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I saw another woman, staring at my beautiful dress. I bet she was jealous of how pretty I looked.

On the day of the wedding, after screaming at her brides maids for leaving her place cards at the hotel, she once more squeezed her humongous body into me. I begged God to free my soul from God’s sense of humor turned bad. There I was the most handsome, attractive, and charming wedding dress, made by one of the best designer in the world, and now worn by an enormous, lazy, rounded, stubborn, rich women.

I was in a horrible mood on my wedding day. My parents had just informed me that they were not going to come to my wedding because one of their friends was sick and they decided to go and see him, instead of going to their daughter's wedding. The dress seemed even tighter on that day. Even after I had been on a very strict diet for three weeks.

As she walked down the church aisle, the sound of my beautiful silk ripping filled the air. She turned red and ran to the nearest restroom. For a couple of minutes, she stood their crying. Then as if it was my fault that she was fat, and it was my fault that I did not inform her that I was about to rip. She got a pair of scissors and rips me into even smaller pieces, than flushed me down the toilet. Unfortunately, for both of us, the toilet was out of order, and it threw me out like a soccer ball and on her once more.

I do not know why I took all my anger out on that poor dress, but it had caused me the most embarrassing day of my life.