Fat Girls Are Not A Bet Chapter 01
The day before college started, my long-distance boyfriend Ethan suddenly told me he’d been playing dice with his friends—and had lost me to a guy named Adrian.
Before I could even process what he’d said, he pulled me into a Discord server for incoming freshmen. Over a hundred people.
The next second, an old, ugly photo of me was dropped into the chat.
In the picture, I was so heavy you could barely make out my neck, and my walk looked ridiculous.
The chat exploded.
“Oh my god, Ethan, *this* is your online girlfriend? She looks like a pig. Fat AND ugly.”
“Congrats to Adrian—you just won yourself a three-hundred-thirty-pound girlfriend!”
“According to the game rules, Adrian has to do the couple’s challenges with her tomorrow.”
Then Ethan slapped down ten thousand dollars, betting I wouldn’t dare show up at tomorrow’s freshman party.
I watched the messages scrolling past and smiled.
None of them knew.
To meet Ethan in person, I’d dropped from three hundred thirty pounds to a hundred and ten.
None of them knew that in the past two months, more people had asked for my Instagram than in the previous eighteen years of my life combined.
Quietly, I placed my own bet—three thousand dollars that I would show up on time.
Then, into all the laughter, I typed one line.
“A bet is a bet.”
…
I stared at the chat for a long time.
Over a hundred people. Messages flying by.
“Ethan really got the raw end of this—losing his online girlfriend to somebody else.”
“Raw end? He just dumped a monster off his hands. Total win. You want the monster? You can have her.”
“Adrian, come on, give us your acceptance speech.”
The photo had been posted a minute ago.
In it, I was pushing three hundred thirty pounds, the seams of my shirt straining.
I was sitting in the corner, head down, eating a bagel.
Whoever took the picture had been far away, but no amount of blur could hide the size of me back then.
The one who posted it was my online boyfriend.
Ethan.
Just moments before, he’d been coaxing me in private messages.
“Baby, it’s just a joke between friends.”
“I lost a game, so I lost you to Adrian. The rule is just that you help him with a few couple’s challenges tomorrow. Don’t take it seriously.”
I didn’t reply. No one would feel good about something like that.
The chat was howling.
“Judging by Olivia’s build, is Adrian gonna have to rent a moving truck to pick her up tomorrow?”
“What’re the couple’s challenges? A bridal carry? Wouldn’t that flatten Adrian and send him straight to the ER?”
Ethan chimed in.
“Guys, don’t make her cry.”
He looked like he was defending me. In reality, he was grinding my face further into the dirt.
I gripped my phone. My fingers were cold.
We’d been together online for eleven months.
When he had insomnia, I stayed up all night playing games with him.
When he lost a match, I comforted him from midnight till dawn.
Before high school graduation, when SATs and college apps had him so anxious he couldn’t sleep, I recorded a voice memo every day to cheer him on.
I’d even put Boston University at the top of my college list.
Because he’d said, “Olivia, let’s go to the same school.”
“On move-in day, I promise I’ll come see you with flowers.”
And now here he was, treating me like a poker chip and losing me to someone else.
Someone in the chat opened a betting pool.
**[Will Olivia show up at tomorrow’s freshman party?]**
The odds climbed fast.
The money against me showing up had already crossed a hundred thousand dollars.
Ethan threw down his ten grand.
“No way she comes.”
“She’s a mouse. Anyone teases her a little, she cries.”
I actually laughed out loud.
So he *knew* I’d cry.
And still, he’d rounded up more than a hundred people to sit and watch me do it.
Then a new message popped up.
**Serena:** “Guys, don’t talk about Olivia like that. Being a little heavy isn’t a big deal. As long as someone has a good heart.”
She was the unofficial “prettiest girl” in the BU freshman Discord.
Two days earlier, Serena had posted a set of bikini beach photos in the group chat. Blonde hair, red bikini, skin tanned a healthy golden brown, standing at the edge of the surf—gorgeous and confident.
The chat had blown up. Everyone was calling her a real-life Aphrodite, saying she looked like a goddess stepping out of Greek myth.
Now she was addressing me directly.
“Olivia, you’ll come tomorrow, right?”
“If it were me and my photo was being talked about like this, I honestly don’t think I’d have the courage to show up.”
The chat quieted for a beat.
Then, as though worried I might take it wrong, she added:
“Nobody means any harm, really. Don’t let your appearance make you insecure.”
Immediately the chat filled with agreement. Everyone praising Serena for being as kind as she was beautiful.
I didn’t rush to reply. I clicked the betting link instead.
Three thousand dollars, on myself, to arrive on time.
The chat went silent for two seconds. Then everyone posted a question mark. Nobody understood what I was doing. Nobody understood why I would volunteer for public humiliation.
Ethan messaged me privately.
“Are you insane?”
“What are you coming for? Aren’t you afraid they’ll mock you until you want to kill yourself?”
I looked at myself in the mirror.
Long hair spilling down my back. A balanced, proportioned figure.
The features that used to be buried in fat during high school had emerged, sharp and striking.
Almost too sharp.
In the past two months, at the mall, on the subway, at the gym, I’d been asked for my Instagram twenty-seven times.
A modeling agent had once stopped me for half an hour, asking if I’d be interested in shooting print ads.
Ethan didn’t know any of it.
Because I’d wanted to save the best version of myself for the day I finally met him in person.
Now, though—
He didn’t deserve the surprise.
I wiped away the tear that hadn’t quite fallen and typed into the chat.
“I’ll be at the freshman party tomorrow. Count on it.”