Karma's a B****
I was a chubby kid who got picked on a lot. The popular girls always used to tell me I was fat and ugly, that my clothes were dorky and that I'd never have a boyfriend. They'd tell me I couldn't talk to them, and they'd throw rocks at me as I walked home from school alone. I'd go home and cry, hating myself, wondering if they were right about me.
My mom always used to tell me that bullies at school were mean because they were jealous. It was one of those nice lies that moms tell to make you feel better.
Here's the thing, though. I don't Facebook stalk any more than the next person, but when I do, it's almost always people who were mean to me in school. Looking at them now, every single one of them is fat and poor and stuck in that s***** little town where we grew up with a couple of kids with absentee fathers. Meanwhile, I grew up to be really pretty and in great shape, I've got an excellent job and an apartment in New York where I live with my fiancé who makes me very happy. My life is pretty sweet.
Maybe those girls weren't jealous of me, but they should have been.