You are watching: Models don t eat chocolate cookies
A hilarious debut featuring friendship, family, average girls and even celebrity crushes, Celeste"s story is a very delicious treat that doesn"t add a pound.
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About the Author
Erin Dionne writes humorous books with heart for tweens. She titles--which are an extremely long--have been called to several state analysis lists, ALA lists, and have received some quite attention. They incorporate MODELS DON"T EAT chocolate COOKIES (Dial 2009), THE full TRAGEDY the A GIRL named HAMLET (Dial 2010), and NOTES indigenous AN inadvertently BAND geek (Dial 2011). Her recent novel, MOXIE and also THE art OF ascendancy BREAKING:A 14 DAY secret (Dial 2013), has actually the longest location yet and also is based on the real-life Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum art heist. She spends an unreasonable amount of time on Facebook, teaches composing at Montserrat college of Art, and also lives exterior of Boston through her husband, two children, and a an extremely indignant dog.
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Table that Contents
Now, I need to admit, gift a model sounds like a quite cool job. Paris to all parts of the world to have my photo taken, hanging out v stars, never going come school, making lots and also lots of money . . . That would certainly be great. Ns imagined myself top top a beach v Theo Christmas, posing for a Celeb Eye magazine cover shoot. “Closer,” the photographer would certainly direct. “Theo, pull her closer.” I’d remainder my head against his chest and also smile hugely because that the camera.
And then my creative thinking showed me nestling with him in mine polka-dot one-piece, the one with the “modesty skirt” Grandma acquired me to hide what she calls mine “peasant” shape. Modeling could be fun, or a good opportunity, however being the confront of a clothing line because that chunky girl was not the type of modeling that would certainly generate seaside celebrity photograph sessions. Extreme junior high teasing? Probably. Snuggles with Theo Christmas? No way. Also, husky or not, models don’t eat cacao cookies.
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Library of conference Cataloging-in-Publication Data Dionne, Erin, date. Models don’t eat chocolate cookies / by Erin Dionne. P. Cm.
Summary: Overweight thirteen-year-old Celeste begins a campaign to lose weight in order to make sure she walk not success the miss HuskyPeach modeling challenge, which her mother and aunt have entered her in—against her wishes.
<1. Overweight persons—Fiction. 2. Load control—Fiction. 3. Models (Persons)—Fiction. 4. Friendship—Fiction. 5. Self-esteem—Fiction. 6. Schools—Fiction.> I. Title. II. Title: Models execute not eat coco cookies.
For Frank, v all mine love.
You to be right.
“NO WAY,” i hissed with the slatted dressing room door. “I am not coming out.”
“Honey, I need to see how it fits,” mother said. “Let me look.”
I dropped mine forehead versus the beige cubicle wall. I’d have actually to offer in eventually, yet I wasn’t opened up until my cousin was back in the garments cubby beside me.
“Oh, angel! It’s just bee-yoo-ti-ful on you. Isn’t she a sight, Noelle?” Aunt Doreen’s sleep whine came over the optimal of my dressing room door choose arrows end a lock wall. Of food the dress was “bee-yoo-ti-ful” on Kirsten. What wasn’t? She to be tall, blond, athletic, and also one of the nicest people I knew. She also shared my celebrity to like on singer Theo Christmas. Us both dropped in love v him as soon as her enlarge sister took united state to watch him in concert critical summer. Ns swear, he was singing to me the entirety time. (She disagrees.)
“Does it look okay from the back?” Kirsten asked. Ns imagined she pirouetting in prior of the three-way winter at the finish of the row, hair twirling favor a shampoo commercial, evenly tanned skin standing out versus the back of the dress, pastel lace and fabric hugging she in every the right places. I decided the only dressing room there is no a mirror on purpose.
“It’s lovely,” my mother offered, she voice tight. “Will girlfriend come out?” she stage-whispered through the dressing room door. “This is ridiculous.”
“Where’s Celeste?” Aunt Doreen said. “I haven’t checked out her yet. Celeste, execute you need help in there?”
I cringed. “No, Auntie, I’m fine,” i called. “Just, uh, nearly ready. One more minute.” i tugged in ~ the dress, hoping because that the miracle yank that would certainly straighten seams, smooth wrinkles, or snap it into the right proportion. Sometimes you don’t need a winter to recognize when things are an extremely wrong.
“Kirsten, turn around again. Ns think it needs hemming, don’t you?” Aunt Doreen said. “Let’s acquire that seamstress in here.” Then, louder, directed at me, “Okay, Celeste, we’re waiting.”
Ready or not, below I come, i thought. Sliding the door’s bolt back, i hiked increase the skirt and also stepped right into the dressing room corridor, head high. Probably it wasn’t as negative as that felt.
Aunt Doreen gasped, then extended her mouth together if to catch what might follow. Ns let the dress sag to the floor.
“It’s . . . Oh, honey,” mom tried. “It requirements some alterations.”
I can imagine.
“Some?” claimed Aunt Doreen, biting the word prefer a potato chip. “What dimension did you order?”
I hung mine head, trying to dampen the zing of her words, trying not to hear mommy explaining that we essential to bespeak an adult size due to the fact that the youth sizes weren’t reduced for me. Besides, mother said, a seamstress might fix that so the dress would certainly “fall right,” every little thing that meant.
“Wait!” barked a short white-haired woman with a ice cream measure around her neck and also a grasp of pins. She stand in the doorway between the dressing rooms and the rest of Angelique’s Bridal Boutique. “Don’t relocate or you’ll tear the lace!” as soon as she stated it, though, “move” came out like “moof” and also “the” sounded prefer “ze.” I continued to be put. Besides, where can I go in a falling-wrong dress?
“Zis needs several an extensive alterations,” she said, gesturing in mine direction v her chin. “When is the wedding?”
“Nine weeks,” mommy said, tearing she eyes away from me and turning to the seamstress. “Can that be fixed in time?”
Straight out of a soap opera, ns thought. I’m in crucial condition. Ns stared at my feet, lost in a puddle of apricot satin. Typically I avoided this form of situation—comfort was much more important to me than fashion. Comfort meant clothing that didn’t pull, drive up, or display off as well much. Comfort was soft, cozy, and also worn; not lacy, satiny, or peachy. A movement recorded my eye. Kirsten, the Barbie Bridesmaid, was slipping into her dressing room. She increased her perfectly shame eyebrows in an expression of sympathy prior to closing the door.
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A bony hand pushed against the tiny of mine back, and also the seamstress ushered me come the carpet-covered platform in former of the three-way mirror Kirsten had actually just vacated. Ns hoisted myself up and also thought, I hate Kathleen.