I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to shut out all of the pain, but only making the pain worse. 'You're so fat,' ran over and over in my head. 'You ate way too much, you didn't deserve any of that.You're fat and disgusting.' I opened my eyes, tears rolling down my cheeks. I looked into the mirror, dried my eyes, and splashed some water on them to make it appear as though I hadn't been crying at all.
"Taylor?" Zac peeked his head into the bathroom. "Oh, there you are." He spoke in a relieved tone. He entered the bathroom slowly, creeping towards me in a cautious way. "Dad said to come back now, we have to go to our hair stylist, and then to get fitted in clothes."
I followed Zac out of the bathroom, checking my figure on the way out. I cringed at the image. Nothing but a fat blob. I hung my head as we walked down the hallway, and met up with my dad and Isaac. There were a few conversations, and soon we were shoveled into a van and taken fifteen minutes to another building.
This was the part I dreaded worse. Getting fitted for clothing. We had to do photoshoots for our new album, so they wanted us to look good, which was impossible for me. I let out a sigh as we entered the building and were met up with a few stylists, each taking the three of us in diffeent directions.
I got to go to hair first. My hair had been so much of a dispute for years. Us, as Hanson, were always known as the ones with long hair. Then, Isaac cut his. He wanted to cut his a long time before we got 'big,' but, the hair just 'caught fire' and he decided to keep it.
"Well, Taylor, sit down in the chair." The lady stylist instructed. I did as told, and sat in the chair. She immediately turned the chair so I was facing the mirror. I immediately cringed, and looked away. She started squirting my hair with a spray bottle, and then used a bruch on it. "Uh, Taylor, your hair is falling out..." I looked at her, as she was pulling gobs of hair out of my head.
"Why?" I asked.
"Your hair must be too heavy for your head, we're gonna have to cut it." She informed me. I looked at the image in the mirror again. My hair. My blond hair that was down to my shoulders. I nodded my head, letting her know it was alright, and she grabbed her scissors. I watched as she took a strip of hair, and cut more than a few inches off it.
I was in hair for thirty minutes, and then was sent away to the dressing area. I walked slowly, dreading having to have my size figured out, and then having to be measured. It almost made me cry every time I had to do it.
"Taylor, baby!" A gay stylist exclaimed. I smiled a little, enjoying the guy. He was so funny, and entertaining. "We've been waiting for you all day, honey, you're the only one I'm looking forward too." He winked at me, and I blushed and laughed a little. "Stand over there."
I walked to the 'X' that was marked on the floor, and stood in the middle of it. He came to me, and made me lift up my arms. He took my arm length measurement, leg length, around the neck, and most dreadingly, around my waist.
"Taylor, you have the tiniest waist, boy." The stylist spoke, "I wish I had it, mmm, mmm, mmm, you are so fine, boy." I blushed, and looked down. He went away for about ten minutes, and came back with a few pairs of clothing. He instructed me to go to the dressing room and put them on.
Once I was in the dressing room, and had the door locked, I slipped off the pair of jeans I had on. I grabbed a pair of pants that were handed to me, and put them on. I then pulled my shirt over my head, and put on another one of the shirts that was given to me. I then walked out of the dressing room to get the opinions.
"Oh, No," The stylist shook his head. "That makes you look horrible Taylor,"
"Yeah, his legs and arms look fat, and his stomach...it looks bulgy." I looked at the lady who made this comment, and wanted to deck her. It stung like a million bees. I had to fight to keep the tears from coming to my eyes and falling.
.big.
.home.
