THE PROMPT = You’ve had a rough day at work. You head home and go straight to bed, mumbling, “I wish I’d wake up tomorrow and be anyone but me,” before dozing off. When you wake up in the morning, your dream has come true, as you quickly realize that you are not you—you are someone else that you know! Excited to live the day in that person’s shoes, you set off, only to find a day in the life of that person isn't as easy as you imagined.
Submitted : April 23, 2015
Be Careful What You Ask For
There she was. She looked amazing in the pink floral print sundress, her long dark hair plaited neatly down her back, the sun casting a nice warm glow on smoothly tanned skin. I knew when I bought the dress it would look great on me. But that wasn't me, not any more. I looked across the room and saw the other girl. She was at least fifty pounds overweight, dressed in a over-sized t-shirt and a pair of worn jeans. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled back into a messy pony tail and she was frowning causing deep furrows across her brow. It was a girl I had looked at with disgust fairly often over the past few years, I even made a point of pointing out her every flaw to those who would listen and laugh about it with me. I absolutely detested that woman with every fiber in my being and now I was trapped in her body.
I've been this way for two weeks now. After a harrowing day at work I had gone to bed saying “I wish I’d wake up and be anyone but me.” When I woke the next morning, I was no longer Brittany, the Administrative Assistant to the President of the company; instead, I was Rachel, the fat girl who worked in the tech department and smelled like peanut-butter fudge and cigarettes. I should have been more specific with my wish.
Rachel lived in an apartment building that was constructed in the 1960’s, her furniture was all things you would find in garage sales, just like her very unfashionable wardrobe. Every night since the swap, I get a call from a very drunk man named “Paul”, professing his love for me and apologizing profusely for running around on me. In the mornings, a very sober Paul calls to tell me to quit calling him. I eventually put the pieces together and figured out that Paul is the handsome Loan Officer I've often heard in the office bragging about the women he has slept with. Paul is a piece of trash. Rachel could do so much better, she’s actually quite pretty under all those extra pounds and lack of self-esteem. I have decided to help her, but I keep craving sugar and fast food no matter how hard I try to stick to a diet of salads and low-calorie foods. I continue the weird craving for cigarettes even though I have tossed out all the ashtrays and cleaned the dingy apartment from top to bottom. I try to go walking in the evenings, but this body tires easily and it’s harder to move it like I did with my old body. Yesterday a car of young teens drove by and shouted out fat jokes as I made my way down the block. I admit I cried when I heard it, I've never had anyone do that to me before.
I don’t know how long this is going to go on. I miss Brittany. I don’t like the way people look at me with judging eyes, they don’t know me! I hate the way I’m out of breath from climbing a set of stairs, I hate the way my hair always looks a mess, and I really despise the fact that I really want Rachel to like me.
I've been this way for two weeks now. After a harrowing day at work I had gone to bed saying “I wish I’d wake up and be anyone but me.” When I woke the next morning, I was no longer Brittany, the Administrative Assistant to the President of the company; instead, I was Rachel, the fat girl who worked in the tech department and smelled like peanut-butter fudge and cigarettes. I should have been more specific with my wish.
Rachel lived in an apartment building that was constructed in the 1960’s, her furniture was all things you would find in garage sales, just like her very unfashionable wardrobe. Every night since the swap, I get a call from a very drunk man named “Paul”, professing his love for me and apologizing profusely for running around on me. In the mornings, a very sober Paul calls to tell me to quit calling him. I eventually put the pieces together and figured out that Paul is the handsome Loan Officer I've often heard in the office bragging about the women he has slept with. Paul is a piece of trash. Rachel could do so much better, she’s actually quite pretty under all those extra pounds and lack of self-esteem. I have decided to help her, but I keep craving sugar and fast food no matter how hard I try to stick to a diet of salads and low-calorie foods. I continue the weird craving for cigarettes even though I have tossed out all the ashtrays and cleaned the dingy apartment from top to bottom. I try to go walking in the evenings, but this body tires easily and it’s harder to move it like I did with my old body. Yesterday a car of young teens drove by and shouted out fat jokes as I made my way down the block. I admit I cried when I heard it, I've never had anyone do that to me before.
I don’t know how long this is going to go on. I miss Brittany. I don’t like the way people look at me with judging eyes, they don’t know me! I hate the way I’m out of breath from climbing a set of stairs, I hate the way my hair always looks a mess, and I really despise the fact that I really want Rachel to like me.
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