"Dani's Island Adventure" Day one by the Masked Writer
The sun hung high over the sapphire ocean, and the tropical Island. Dani stood at the edge of the shore, her toes sinking into the warm sand. She adjusted her swimsuit—a stunning bright red one-piece that hugged the curves of her pear-shaped body and contrasted beautifully with her milky skin. The waves lazily lapped at the beach, creating the perfect backdrop for the swimwear photoshoot she was hired for. She is a plus-size model and influencer on YouTube. She has brownish-blond hair and green eyes. At 5.9 and 230 pounds, with short, light-brown hair and green eyes, she is appreciated for her pretty face, in spite of her slightly flabby arms, small bust, and cellulite. She still works as a model but focuses more on her influencer career, often feeling uncomfortable around other models. She nevertheless accepted this job, thinking it would please her fanbase.
"Alright, Dani, we’ll start with some action shots," the photographer called, excitement in his voice. "Let’s have you run toward the water, just carefree and joyful!"
Dani’s smile wavered. Carefree and joyful? Sure. Running? Not so much.
"Got it! Like a plus-size Baywatch!" she called back, flashing her best confident grin. Inside, though, her heart raced. She hated running. Actually, she hated physical exertion in general. Running for the camera felt like running toward inevitable humiliation. But work was work, and she’d learned long ago to turn her discomfort into humor.
“Alright, let’s go!” she whispered to herself, inhaling deeply before breaking into a light jog. Immediately, her feet sank into the soft sand, throwing off her balance. She stumbled, awkwardly trying to keep up the pretense of elegance while her thighs rubbed together as they always did.
She ran, or at least she thought she was running, but each step took more effort than the last, her lungs burning as though she’d sprinted a marathon. Her breasts—what little there was—bounced gently in the swimsuit, while the lower half of her body had a whole symphony of its own. Her cellulite-dimpled thighs jiggled freely, the beach definitely getting more of a show than anyone anticipated.
She could hear the photographer clicking away, and she hoped that at least one shot would be usable. By the time she reached the water’s edge, Dani was panting hard, her breath escaping in short, ragged bursts.
“That wasn’t so bad!” she gasped, hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. She flashed a grin, trying to pretend like she wasn’t one step away from collapsing.
"Looks great, Dani! Next, we’ll have you do some playful poses with a beach ball."
A beach ball? Could be worse, she supposed. But Dani knew her coordination wasn’t the best. She moved back onto the sand, the photographer tossing her a giant, rainbow-striped ball.
“Just throw it up, catch it, be playful!” he instructed, like it was the simplest thing in the world.
Dani caught the ball with a thud. Playful. Right. She tossed it into the air, watching as it soared high—too high. When she tried to catch it, it bounced right off her head, sending her stumbling backward. Her foot caught on a small rock, and she went down. Hard. Her pear-shaped body hit the sand with an ungraceful thud, and she lay there for a moment, feeling the grainy warmth beneath her.
The photographer rushed over, concern etched on his face. “You okay?”
“Just fine,” she quipped, trying to laugh off the situation. “The sand’s soft. But, you know, not too soft.”
He chuckled nervously. Dani hoisted herself back up, brushing off the sand clinging to her legs and rear. Her arms, though flabby, did little to shield her from the embarrassment that flooded her cheeks.
"Maybe we skip the ball for now," the photographer suggested kindly.
"Or just photoshop it in," Dani teased. "I’ll do my best mime impression."
They laughed, and the tension eased a little.
Next, they wanted her to paddleboard on the shallow water. It seemed innocent enough, but Dani could already imagine herself tumbling over in slow motion, the water splashing dramatically like a scene from a comedy movie.
The board wobbled as she climbed on, her balance tested immediately. Dani’s arms shook from the effort of keeping herself upright, her lower body still jiggling even as she stood still. She paddled a few feet out, wobbling with every stroke.
“You’re doing great!” the photographer called from the shore.
“Sure,” Dani muttered under her breath, “great if you like watching a pear-shaped woman try not to drown on a glorified surfboard.”
Predictably, the next wave sent her tumbling into the water. She surfaced with a gasp, sputtering and wiping her face as she struggled to climb back on the board. Water streamed from her hair and swimsuit, her mascara smudging slightly under her eyes. Her flabby arms trembled as she fought to get back onto the board.
She finally gave up and floated there, panting. “Can we call this an underwater shot?” she called out, raising a hand in defeat.
The crew laughed, but Dani couldn’t help feeling the sting of failure.
That night, as she sat on the beach with a glass of wine in hand, Dani looked out at the horizon. The photoshoot had been a disaster. Her body had betrayed her at every turn—her lack of fitness, her cellulite, her awkwardness. She was supposed to be the confident, plus-size model everyone admired, but days like today made her feel like an impostor. She was beginning to regret taking this contract.
But then, Dani remembered: she was an influencer, not because she was perfect, but because she wasn’t. She was real. She hated exercise, loved good food, and struggled with insecurities. Like all her fans and that is precisely why they loved her.
With a sly grin, she raised her glass to the sky. “To cellulite, wine, and the art of failing spectacularly.”
But, she wondered : “What’s in store for me tomorrow ?”
As the sun dipped lower over the tropical horizon, Dani sat quietly on a lounge chair, sipping her second glass of wine. She’d showered off the sand and the day’s frustrations, now dressed in a flowy sundress that clung to her damp skin. Despite the chaos of the day’s photoshoot, she was determined to let it go. After all, she had come to this Island as much to enjoy herself as for work.
But then, a shadow fell over her. Dani looked up to see one of the other models—Elsa, an athletic blonde fitness model—standing a few feet away, a smirk pulling at her perfectly sculpted lips. Elsa was everything Dani was not: lean, toned, with the kind of effortless grace that made people stop and stare. Elsa is a stunning blonde with blue eyes, also a model but a former fitness model. 5ft7 and 119 lbs. She has lost some muscle volume since leaving the competition was still a perfect acrobat, practiced martial arts, jogging, and had participated in triathlons. Her tanned and athletic body was highly appreciated for promotions involving swimwear or sportswear She had spent most of the day posing in bikinis that barely covered her defined abs, her long limbs moving with the precision of a dancer.
Dani braced herself, immediately sensing the tension. She knew Elsa could be a bitch.
"Well, if it isn’t the star of the show," Elsa said, crossing her arms over her chest. The sarcasm was obvious in her tone.
Dani raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you heard about the new trend I’m starting : underwater paddleboarding. It’s a workout and a bath all in one."
Elsa didn’t laugh, glancing at Dani’s body, a sneer curling on her lips. "You sure ? Looked more like a session of “flop around in front of the camera”. You should’ve seen yourself trying to run on the sand. I am still not sure whether it was tragical or comical…”."
Dani’s chest tightened. She was used to comments about her size, but Elsa wasn’t even trying to be subtle. Her green eyes locked on Elsa’s cool blue gaze, keeping her face neutral, trying not to let the sting show.
"Well, not all of us are fitness models, Elsa. Can’t all do the same thing. Beside,some of us enjoy living life, you know? Eating good food, drinking good wine. It’s not for everyone," Dani said with a sweet smile, lifting her wine glass in mock toast.
Elsa rolled her eyes. "Please ! It’s not about enjoying life; it’s about being lazy. Just because you’re ‘body positive’ doesn’t mean you should let yourself go. It was hard watching you today—you were out of breath just standing up. Embarassing, really."
Dani’s hand tightened around her glass, heart pounding with the familiar surge of insecurity. But instead of letting Elsa’s words tear her down, she did what she always did—turned to humor. It always worked. Well, almost always.
"Oh, you’re absolutely right," Dani said, putting a hand on her chest in mock horror. "I’ve let myself go so far. But hey, maybe that’s why I’m here—finding myself again on this tropical Island, one margarita at a time." She grinned, though her voice had an edge.
Elsa looked unfazed. "Joke all you want, but the way you were struggling out there today? That wasn’t just ‘real’—it was a shame. The crew barely could keep themselves from laughing in your face. "
That one hit home. She had just avoided to think about it till now but she feared Elssa may be right. Dani swallowed hard. She felt like throwing the wine in Elsa’s face, screaming, telling that bitch where to shove her perfect body where. But she didn’t. Dani had been through this before—sneers, judgmental looks, snide comments about her body. She’d survived it all with a smile and a joke. But this, somehow, was different. Maybe because the day had already been exhausting and she already felt a bit depressed.
Dani stood up, meeting Elsa’s gaze head-on, her full height of 5'9" bringing her to eye level with the fitness model. She didn’t try to hide her curves or her weight; she owned it, even when it felt like a burden.
"You know what, Elsa? You’re right about one thing—it was embarrassing out there. I know I’m not the fastest, or the fittest, or the most graceful. But here’s the thing: I’m still here. I’m still doing this. I’ve had days where I feel like the world’s laughing at me, and guess what? I laugh with them. Because the difference between you and me is that I don’t need to be perfect to feel good about myself."
Elsa’s smirk barely faltered.
Dani pressed on, her voice steady. "You’re great at what you do, Elsa. You’ve got abs that look like they’ve been chiseled out of marble, and I’m sure you work hard for them. But that doesn’t give you the right to tear someone else down. I get it—you think I don’t belong here. But I’m still getting booked. I’m still inspiring people. Not because I fit your idea of beauty, but because I represent something different. Something real."
Elsa’s mouth opened to say something, but Dani didn’t let her.
"And honestly, if your self-worth is tied to how perfect your body is, then that’s your problem, not mine. So yeah, I’ll keep showing up in this industry, even when people like you think I don’t belong. Because I do belong.."
With that, Dani turned, her sundress fluttering in the breeze as she walked back toward her lounge chair. Her heart was racing and she was breathing hard, holding tears. She didn’t know if this confrontation would linger for the rest of the shoot, but right now, she didn’t care.
She sat down, taking another sip of her wine, feeling the weight of the day lift off her shoulders. She wasn’t perfect—far from it. But she was done apologizing for it.
From behind her, she heard Elsa mutter something under her breath and walk away.
Dani smiled to herself. “Another victory for Team Cellulite,” she whispered, raising her glass in triumph.
At least it felt like a victory.
But was it ?
To be continued.
Don't worry : a fight is coming
The Masked Writer.
