any part of yourself,” Doc says.

“I see all of you.

I accept all of you.”

I freeze,

finally realizing why I hug pillows.

I put it down.

“How do you feel without it?” Doc asks.

“Vulnerable.

A little naked.”

“Can you try it for a while,

see what happens?”

I nod.

“Good.

Have you ever dreamed

of being someone else?”

“Only every single day.”

“Then today your dream comes true.”

“I thought you were my therapist,

not my fairy godmother.”

“What can I say?

I have a lot of hidden talents.”

She jogs over to the art table,

dips her pen in glitter, and

spins around as she

waves it like a wand.

“Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo.

You’re Marissa.

And I’m you.”

I’m pretty sure Doc would have to

cut my heart out

for me to act like Marissa,

but I’ll give it my best shot.

“You need to stuff this

under your shirt.”

I toss her the throw pillow.

I stand up and

circle her chair so

I can look down on her.

One side of my upper lip

curls up as I focus on the

frumpy, clumpy, bumpy pillow.

“You’re so fat

you make whales feel skinny.”

“That’s a really hurtful

thing to say.”

“Well, it hurts my eyes

just looking at you.”

“Why are you so mean to me?”

I bend down so

we’re face-to-face.

“Because you deserve it.”

DESERVE IT

Too bad magic isn’t real;

you could fix everything

with a wave of a wand.

Doc waves her pen again.

“Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo.

Switcheroo.

Now I’m Marissa,

and you’re you.”

I sit in the chair.

Doc stands.

“You deserve to feel pain.”

She’s a better Marissa than I am.

She goes right for the jugular.

I’m a mini-marshmallow

in scalding hot chocolate,

melting fast.

Going—

Doc bends down and leans in

so we’re face-to-face again.

“Admit it.”

Going—

“Admit it!”

Gone.

I nod.

Doc pulls up a chair beside me.

No one looks down on anyone now.

“You don’t stand up for yourself

because you think you deserve the hate.”

I nod,

do an amazingly good impression

of a bobblehead.

“I’m fat.

I deserve whatever anyone

says or does to me.”

“No, Ellie.

You don’t.

No matter what you weigh,

you deserve for people to treat you

like a human being with feelings.”

A lump grows in my throat, and

I think I can’t breathe, but

I just can’t swallow, so

I gasp in a gulp of air.

But I’m not,

I think.

I’m a big ol’ fat thing.

My own mom said so.

WITH THE WAVE OF A WAND

Like Cinderella,

my magical time ends.

Doc’s wand is a pen again,

poised to take notes.

“What we just did was role-playing,

which allows you to

think, see, and feel like

someone else and

see yourself through their eyes.

What did you learn from it?”