Dumplin Quotes

I think maybe it’s the things we don’t want to talk about that are the things people most want to hear.

I guess sometimes the perfection we perceive in others is made up of a whole bunch of tiny imperfections, because some days the damn dress just won't zip.

All my life I’ve had a body worth commenting on and if living in my skin has taught me anything it’s that if it’s not your body, it’s not yours to comment on.

There's some kind of peace that comes with knowing that for every person who is waiting to be found, there's someone out there searching.

There’s something about swimsuits that make you think you’ve got to earn the right to wear them. And that’s wrong. Really, the criteria is simple. Do you have a body? Put a swimsuit on it.

I think you gotta be who you want to be until you feel like you are whoever it is you're trying to become. Sometimes half of doing something is pretending that you can.

Sometimes figuring out who you are means understanding that we are a mosaic of experiences. I’m Dumplin’. And Will and Willowdean. I’m fat. I’m happy. I’m insecure. I’m bold.

Good friendships are durable. They're meant to survive the gaps and the growing pains.

I've wasted a lot of time in my life. I've thought too much about what people will say or what they're gonna think. And sometimes it's over silly things like going to the grocery store or going to the post office. But there have been times when I really stopped myself from doing something special. All because I was scared someone might look at me and decide I wasn't good enough. But you don't have to bother with that nonsense. I wasted all that time so you don't have to.

Perfection is nothing more than a phantom shadow we’re all chasing

I don't get why we call it a crush when it feels more like a curse.

I may be uncomfortable, but I refuse to be ashamed

This is me. Back me up or back the fuck out.

My first kiss. It's the fastest thing that lasts forever.

Marcus mumbles something about PMS and to my surprise, from the kitchen, Bo says, “Why can’t she just be having a shitty day? You don’t need to make up some bullshit reason why.

Beautiful, he says. Fat, I think. But can’t I be both at the same time?

Maybe ’cause you don’t always have to win a pageant to wear a crown.

And I guess that's when I decided being good at something didn't mean you had to do it. Just 'cause something's easy doesn't make it right.

Lucy always said that the greatest friends have nothing and everything in common all at once. Y'all girls are different versions of the same story, she would say.

I hate seeing fat girls on TV or in movies, because the only way the world seems to be okay with putting a fat person on camera is if they’re miserable with themselves or if they’re the jolly best friend. Well, I’m neither of those things.

At this point, there’s nothing left to be done, and if there is anything, it’s too late to make the effort. All she can do is let the glitter fall where it may. (Her words, not mine.)

Isn’t that sad? It’s like the whole world has to walk around with name tags on so we can all feel more comfortable? I guess things are less scary if you know what to call them.

I like the idea of keeping my world in these little compartments where there is no risk of collision.

it’s this reminder that no matter who you are, there will always be someone prettier or smarter or thinner. Perfection is nothing more than a phantom shadow we’re all chasing.

It’s like how I notice some girls have big boobs or shiny hair or knobby knees. Those things are okay to say. But the word fat, the one that best describes me, makes lips frown and cheeks lose their color.

But Mondays and Fridays were just twenty-four-hour stretches of time with different names.

I guess the magic of being someone else is lost when you can never quite shed your own skin.

She'd call us her bee-utiful girls and take us for hot chocolate on Mondays, because Fridays didn't deserve all the attention. It was funny. I used to think of myself as a Monday and Ellen as a Friday. But Mondays and Fridays were just twenty-four-hour stretches of time with different names.

I kind of wonder what it feels like to love something so much that you’re even happy to fail at it.

I wish there were some kind of magic words that could bridge the cap between the person I am and the one I wish I could be. Because the whole fake it till you make it thing? It's not working for me.

Hannah shouldn’t have to get braces. Maybe she can’t afford them or maybe she’s scared to get them. Either way, she shouldn’t have to fill her mouth with metal so that some shitheads will leave her alone.

But maybe Lucy wasn’t supposed to be your compass forever. Maybe she was there for you just long enough so you could learn how to be your own compass and find your own way.” She winks at me. “The universe is a strange thing.

I get called a freak everyday. I might as well make a show of it.

For the longest time, I thought the power of positive thinking would get me by. And it helps, that's for dang sure. But it takes more than thinking and hoping and wishing and praying. You need a whole lot of doing.

But the good news is that since this is the worst day ever, tomorrow can only be better. Even if it's by a little bit.

I suck in a breath. This is what it feels like when your life starts happening, I think.

there is no higher achievement for a southern woman than the ability to eat barbecue and walk away stain free.

All my favorite things start as bad ideas.

Sometimes we have to break the rules to get what we want. But now I think it’s time we change them.

Loyalty is . . . loyalty is being there for someone. It’s selfless. It’s about standing by someone’s side even when you don’t want to.” Ellen.

It wasn't just the look of Dolly that drew us in. It was the attitude that came with knowing how ridiculous people thought she looked, but never changing a thing because she felt good about herself. To us, she is...invincible.

I want to be with you,” he says. “But I can’t if you won’t let me.” “Why?” I drop my bag in the driveway. “Why do you want to be with this?” I wave my arm up and down the length of my body. Immediately, I hate myself for this. The only person making this about my body is me. “Because I like you. I think I might feel a lot more than that for you, Willowdean. How is that so hard to believe?

I know that fat girls are supposed to be allergic to pools or whatever, but I love swimming. I mean, I’m not stupid. I know people stare, but they can’t blame me for wanting to cool off. And why should it even matter? What about having huge, bumpy thighs means that I need to apologize?

Aha! I take my three keys on my ring (car, house, El's) and hold my hand in a fist so that each of the keys is peeking out from between my fingers. I remember seeing this on a self-denfense special of Maury. Television saves lives.

I hate that there's never anyting good on TV on Saturday afternoons. It's like even the networks are trying to get you off your ass and have a life.

All the best things in my life have started with a Dolly Parton song.

I try not to cringe. Dog-earing a book feels like a violation of some sacred unspoken rule.

The body I have shouldn't change how deserving I am of my dreams. - Millie

Since the day she died, I've felt that Lucy was only mine to memorialize and that if I faltered, I'd be letting her down in the worst kind of way. The realization that she wasn't just mine comes as a painful relief.

He meets me where I am, and because of the downward tilt of the driveway, we are toe to toe, nose to nose. “Willowdean Opal Dickson, you are beautiful. Fuck anyone who’s ever made you feel anything less.” His chest heaves. “When I close my eyes, I see you. I can talk to you. In a way I never have with anyone else.

Sometimes half of doing something is pretending that you can.

But that’s me. I’m fat. It’s not a cuss word. It’s not an insult. At least it’s not when I say it. So I always figure why not get it out of the way?

Y’all girls are different versions of the same story,

When your options are limited to being miserable in private or being mortified in public, there is no choice. I can’t get on the plane.

What about having huge, bumpy thighs means that I need to apologize?

My magic truth-the thing that has changed everything for me-is this: the body I have shouldn't change how deserving I am of my dreams. I stopped obsessing over my body being too round or too wise or too lumpy. Because I'm not too much of anything. I am just enough. Even when I don't feel like I am.

Really, the criteria is simple. Do you have a body? Put a swimsuit on it.

I--I'm sorry for asking. I have the manners of a cat in a box of bubble wrap. Like, it's a problem.

Plus, having sex doesn’t make you a woman. That is so freaking cliché.

I was so scared that all the big things I wanted would never be anything more than wants.

Clover City is the type of place you leave. It's love that either sucks you in or pushes you away. There are only a few who really make it out and stay out, while the rest of us drink, procreate, and go to church, and that seems to be enough to keep us afloat.

I get what he's saying. When you've known someone for so long, you don't see the same things in them that everyone else does. But then when you're friends because of who you were and not who you are, it's hard not to find the common thread that stitches you together.

Her boyfriend, Camdon or Brandon or whatever his name is, tosses Callie his wallet and says, 'Gotta take a leak.' They exchange a kiss--- which, I mean, why? Is he going to drown in the toilet?

I know guys aren’t supposed to cry, but I cried a bunch that night. And I guess that’s when I decided being good at something didn’t mean you had to do it. Just ‘cause something’s easy doesn’t make it right.

Girls don't have to be nice," she says simply. "But they should stick together...The wider world wants you to think other women are drama...or catty. But that's just because when we work together, we're unstoppable....One day you'll wake up to find that there's a woman, or maybe a few, who have outlasted every changing season of your life.

I hate phrases like that. “Jesus vocab,” El would call them. Things you learn in church that are hammered into you until they’re so normal that you expect everyone else who doesn’t go to church to know what you mean.

When I can't fall asleep at night it’s not because of work or school or Amber or Bekah. It’s you. You’re the one that drives me crazy.” I shake my head because it makes no sense. “Have you ever thought about what people will think? What they’ll say when they see us together holding hands?” “You never struck me as the type to give a shit what everyone else thinks.” His jaw twitches for a moment before he lowers his voice and says, “I want to go everywhere with you. I want to show you off. I want to wear a cheap suit and be your escort for that ridiculous pageant.

Child, you don’t need heels. You’re fierce all on your own.” She

I tell myself that I don't have to hold myself to anything because no one else even knows about it except me.

All my favorite things start as bad ideas', says Millie.

I’ve been real lost without her. Like, she was this compass I didn’t even know I had.

You will. One day you’ll wake up and find that there’s a woman, or maybe a few, who have outlasted every changing season in your life.

Find the things you love and do them every day, even if it means failing. That's all there is to it.

I don’t know why people have to go on dates,” Mitch says. “If we called it hanging out or something, there’d be so much less pressure. But a date, God, that’s like some huge thing to live up to.

We did this grown-up thing. This really adult thing. But we were still ourselves. We still laughed and made jokes. I expected to feel like this whole new person, but really it was me--plain old me--making this decision that I can never unmake.

The pageant and football pull this little town out of itself and turn it into something more. Because when those stadium lights are on or when that curtain parts, we are the best version of ourselves.

Nope,” says Hannah. “I call bullshit. You don’t deserve to win anything or be in any pageant until you make the effort and do the work. Maybe fat girls or girls with limps or girls with big teeth don’t usually win beauty pageants. Maybe that’s not the norm. But the only way to change that is to be present. We can’t expect the same things these other girls do until we demand it. Because no one’s lining up to give us shit, Will.

There’s nothing good about losing someone,” she says. “But maybe Lucy wasn’t supposed to be your compass forever. Maybe she was there for you just long enough so you could learn how to be your own compass and find your own way.” She winks at me. “The universe is a strange thing.

Because how do people even function like this? Like, how is it that people can even pump gas or pay bills or tie their shoes when they're in love?

Just 'cause something's easy doesn't make it right.

To my mom, powdered iced tea is almost as bad as the possibility of being left behind in the wake of the rapture. “You

Maybe you only ever notice the distance when it’s you who’s being left behind.

Every time I blink, all I can see are my flaws. My body in a fun-house mirror. Hips too wide. Thighs too big. And a head too small for the rest of me.

Sometimes figuring out who you are means understanding that we are a mosaic of experiences.

This thing between us is a roller coaster. The brakes might be out and the tracks might be on fire, but I can’t make myself get off the ride.

I think the good stuff is always supposed to be a little scary.

Well, aren’t you just having a come-apart?

No matter how much I tell myself that the fat and the stretch marks don’t matter, they do.

I obviously don’t know the whole story here, but good friendships are durable. They’re meant to survive the gaps and the growing pains.

Loyalty isn’t blind. Even when I wish it was. Loyalty is telling someone they’re wrong when no one else will.

But we can’t walk around scared all the time. That’s no way to do things.

I don't exactly get to be moody or snappy when I don't feel like putting on a happy face, because when most people meet me, I'm already starting out with a deficit. Fat girls don't get that luxury.

There are times when I feel like I can’t be me. I can’t simply exist. I have to offer something in exchange. Something that absolves me of being fat and gay and even worse—both of those things at once.

All my life I’ve had a body worth commenting on and if living in my skin has taught me anything it’s that if it’s not your body, it’s not yours to comment on. Fat. Skinny. Short. Tall. It doesn’t matter.

I, on the other hand, talk like the world will only continue to spin if it can revolve around me. I like listening to you talk. He laighs. It's kinda like Stockholm syndrome. At first it was a little terrifying, but now it's sorta comforting. Like, the world could be ending, but I would come to work and you'd be talking like it's your duty.

The word fat makes people uncomfortable. But when you see me, the first thing you notice is my body. And my body is fat. It’s like how I notice some girls have big boobs or shiny hair or knobby knees. Those things are okay to say. But the word fat, the one that best describes me, makes lips frown and cheeks lose their color. But that’s me. I’m fat. It’s not a cuss word. It’s not an insult. At least it’s not when I say it. So I always figure why not get it out of the way?

No matter how much I tell myself that the fat and the stretch marks don't matter, they do. Even if Bo, for whatever reason, doesn't care, I do. Then there are days when I really give zero flying fucks, and I am totally satisfied with this body of mine. How can I be both of those people at once?

I get what he means, because I think I've played pretend my whole life. I don't know when, but a really long time ago, I decided who I wanted to be. And I've been acting like her -- whoever she is -- since. But I think the act is fading, and I don't know if I like the person I am beneath it all. I wish there were some kind of magic words that could bridge the gap between the person I am and the one I wish I could be. Because the whole fake it till you make it thing? It's not working for me.

I always wanted to change the world. I know that's so corny. Of course everyone wants to change the world. I just always thought the only way I could do that was by being a senator or a mayor or something like that, but there's something about movies and stories. I want to help changes the rules, you know? To help make everything more fair. But no one cares about evening the playing field or changing the rules unless they have some kind of connection. I guess...well, that's what stories do. They connect people. Stories change hearts and then hearts change the world.

ONE All the best things in my life have started with a Dolly Parton song. Including my friendship with Ellen Dryver. The song that sealed the deal was “Dumb Blonde” from her 1967 debut album, Hello, I’m Dolly. During the summer before first grade, my aunt Lucy bonded with Mrs. Dryver over their mutual devotion to Dolly. While they sipped sweet tea in the dining room, Ellen and I would sit on the couch watching cartoons, unsure of what to make of each other. But then one afternoon that song came on over Mrs. Dryver’s stereo. Ellen tapped her foot as I hummed along, and before Dolly had even hit the chorus, we were spinning in circles and singing at the top of our lungs. Thankfully, our love for each other and Dolly ended up running deeper than one song. I