My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out. Weird. It's a text without a name or number attached.How can you do that? It that even possible?The message says, I HAVE SOMETHING FOR YOU, SKYE, AND YOU'RE NOT GOING TO WANT TO MISS IT. I'm confused. Normally, I would just delete something like this, but they know my name. It's not some random spam, but it doesn't look like any text I've ever seen before. Maybe it's the interview committee, although it seems like a really strange way to contact me. Another text pops up on my screen.THIS IS A TEST. NOT HARD. ARE YOU READY?A test? Now my nerves are starting to kick in. I hit reply and write back.ME: WHO IS THIS? WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?The message comes back immediately. LOOK AT THE PICTURE.There is an attachment and I click on it, waiting for it to download. At first I don't even recognize myself. Everything about this is wrong. It's a screenshot. Of me. Only different than any me anyone has ever seen before. It's from the video of Kylie's birthday party, taken out of context and only one frame frozen onto the tiny screen of my phone. It was obviously chosen for maximum shock value -- picked at the exact moment to put me in the worst possible light. It's a full body shot -- the nightie slipping down off one shoulder, leaving it bare, and me leaning in to kiss the air with eyes half closed. My hair is big. My lips are full and pouty. But that's not the part of the picture I focus on. All I can see is my thick thighs, my round stomach and my flabby arms. This is the me I've done everything in my life to hide.

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Excerpted from Screenshot by Donna Cooner
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