From Their Favorite Punchline To Hollywood Royalty

Summary

Twenty-four hours before our high school reunion, the girl who made my teenage years a living hell dropped a video into the class group chat.

In the clip, my seventeen-year-old self—weighing in at two hundred and twenty pounds—was locked inside a bathroom stall, sobbing. Taped across the back of my oversized school hoodie was a sheet of lined paper:

PIG: DO NOT FEED.

The chat notifications exploded instantly.

“Holy shit, is she actually coming tomorrow?”

“Can the hotel chairs even support that?”

“It’s been five years. Has she blown up so big she won’t even fit through the double doors?”