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“You are too fat to wear that outfit,” I said. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t like immodest dressing and I had to tell her what I felt. I felt it was my duty. Her face didn’t look pleased.

“There is no such thing as too fat. Don’t give me advice I didn’t ask for,” she snapped. She couldn’t digest what I told her but I knew it was for her best. Her hair fell on her face and obstructed her vision. It took attention away from her otherwise narrow face to her fat body type. She must be a size 10 at least which in my opinion was two sizes too much.

“Oh and this hairstyle isn’t your style. It falls on your face and doesn’t flatter you,” I added. She tugged at her teeshirt as she stomped out without a reply. Someday she would be grateful for the advice I gave her that day. I know she would. She would break out of the denial cycle that she was in and finally accept the truths in my statements. It was part of my character to be brutally honest. I did better telling everyone what I felt, when I felt it. I obviously didn’t see any reason to sugar coat the truth. One day, she will realise how right I was and thank me for my advice.

[Part of an exercise is to use the character telling the story to show a subjective side of the story which the reader will be given hints to not believe or trust.]

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