I talk softly to Michael as I carry him to my bed. He snuggles against me. He is such a snuggler. It pains me to think that he may be my only child. I long for a baby. I never told Dick. I was sensible enough to know not to make another baby with him.
I fall asleep wondering about babies…babies with Jake. Would they have his dark complexion? Would they have his dark hair or my light brown hair? I’d hope they have his lips. He has delicious, thin lips. I’d really love to kiss those lips.
Chapter Eleven
October 1, 185 pounds, size 20
My first dinner co-op is about thirty minutes away, on the outskirts of Lexington. An older gentleman is the host. The beef tips, noodles, salad, and poke cake are absolutely delicious.
Conversation is relaxed and flows well. I do not feel like a new member of this eclectic group. Everyone makes me feel at home. Most of the attendees are in their late forties and fifties. There is one guy, Daniel, who is my age.
I discover that he is a pediatrician who misses his mother’s home-cooked meals. A co-worker suggested this group to him. He has been a part of the co-op for over a year. We get along so well that we exchange numbers before he rushes out for another shift at the hospital.
“You know,” Brenda, a matronly woman, begins. “Daniel is single. Not that he is not looking and great relationship material…”
I laugh. “I am sure that he is great, but I don’t think he is interested in me,” I protest, trying to change the subject.
“We will see,” she muses ominously. The other women giggle.
I guess I should not have underestimated the match-making capabilities of those women. Before I leave for the airport the following day, the local florist delivers me roses. Yellow roses surrounded by Queen Anne’s Lace. I sigh. It is such a shame that I am not going to be able to enjoy these flowers for a few days. By the time that I am back, they will be completely opened.
Jake walks in as I am slightly arranging the flowers. “Ready?” I ask.
He says nothing. He just looks at the flowers and me. Then, he takes a deep breath. “Yes. I will get your bags.”
We ride to the airport in silence. I know he is upset about the flowers. I would like to think that they would motivate him to make a move, but they seem to have done the opposite.
He is even quiet in the airport. I pull out my phone and watch the Kentucky basketball game on my phone until take-off. Then, I decide that if Jake is going to be quiet, I will just take a nap. However, my nap is fitful. I am anxious and nervous all at the same time.
Sitting next to Jake is tantalizing and unfair. It is like the fact that Girl Scout cookies are sold during Lent, when so many people give up sweets. It is like the fact that women are usually hornier while on their periods. It is agonizingly brutal. He is so close to me, yet he is so far from me.
I pull out my phone again. This time, I text Olivia and tell her of the situation. She texts me back immediately. What he does not say is just as important as what he does say. I think about that for a moment. I realize that she is right. Jake’s silence is telling me a lot.
Chapter Twelve
Opal and all her staff rock. They know how to make a fat girl feel welcome. They also know to keep all the junk food out of my dressing room. Opal has been there, done that. She knows the struggle. Love her heart.
As I sit before her in my workout clothing—don’t even get me started on workout clothing—I tell her about my frustration. “Seventeen pounds. I am a bit frustrated…”
Opal slaps the arm of her chair. “Girl, that is setting the world on fire.”
Jake interjects, “I told her that she did not gain it quickly. She is not going to lose it quickly.”
Opal nods emphatically. “I was going to wait toward the end of the show, but…Melissa, go ahead and bring it out.”
We all look to the side of the stage. Melissa, an assistant, carries in what looks to be plastic yellow globs.
Opal stands up, showing them to me and the crowd. “This, Leigh, is what seventeen pounds of fat looks like. Still think it is disappointing?”
“No. That is…quite a bit of fat. Gross.”
“That is right. However, I bet you have gained a lot of muscle.”
“She has a rigorous lifting schedule,” Jake agrees.
“Well, this is what seventeen pounds of muscle looks like.” She holds up significantly smaller models that represent the same weight but look so much differently.
“This is why you should not get hung up on the scale,” explains Jake. “I know your clothes are fitting differently and you have gone down in size.”
“I will never be small,” I add. “I am okay with that. I just want to be strong and healthy.”
“Wooh! Now that is the spirit!” yells Opal. The audience applauses enthusiastically.
“Now, get up here and let me see your results. Let us all see.”
I stand, and they do that side by side comparison thing—my old picture with the new me. The crowd is on the feet cheering for me. Tears stream down my face. Knowing so many people are supporting me makes me so emotional. Jake stands up next to me. I bury myself in his chest, and he wraps his arms around me. I look at Opal. She has a knowing grin on her face. She did not get to where she is today by not being able to read people.
Feeling awkward, I change the subject. “Someone needs to make workout clothes for real women,” I say. The audience affirms my opinion. “I am never going to be small. Whoever makes these clothes, listen to me. There are a whole lot more bigger girls out there than there are skinny girls. We have boobs, butts, hips, and thighs.”
“Girl, preach!” agrees Opal.
“My thighs,” I go on. “Why don’t they make workout clothes with extra tough material between the thighs? All my workout clothes end up getting threadbare there.”
“Yes!” cries out Opal emphatically. “I can be completely buff and still have thigh chub. All my workout clothes get worn out there first.”
“I will never have a thigh gap.”
“Does anyone unless they are airbrushed in a magazine?” she ponders.
“And when I squat, I don’t want my crack to show.”
The audience is laughing hysterically now.
“Don’t you hate it when the band on the bottom of your sports bras curl up?” she asks me.
“Oh, my gosh! Yes! Real women should not have to constantly adjust their clothing while working out.”
“Girl, let’s start a clothing line! Workout clothes for women with curves!”
“I am in,” I tell her.
Jake looks at us like we have gone completely off subject. He chuckles and shakes his head. “It will sell,” he agrees.
Opal addresses the audience. “Who here thinks that we should make a clothing line for real women who work out?”
The studio is loud with applause, cheering, and whistles. Opal and I look at each other. We know we have stumbled upon a great business venture.
Chapter Thirteen
October 3, 180 pounds and size 18
We stayed an extra day to brainstorm ideas for the clothing line. Let me say that when Opal thinks an idea is worth pursuing, she takes it as a project and gives it one-hundred percent of her effort. By the time we leave, the three of us have multiple sketches of multiple pieces of clothing, specific price points, a marketing plan, and a contract signed. That is right. Jake and I are now partners with Opal in our new clothing line—FAB.
I came up with the name, FAB, because of what started this whole crazy turn in my life. I found the husband that I fell out of love, and like with, ramming the town whore’s cunt. She, then, called me a Fat Ass Bitch. Hence the name FAB. Then, there is the point that it is often used as the abbreviated form of the word “fabulous.”
We decided not to market to the upper-class market. We want to be affordable to all women, because that is what this is all about—all women.
Jake is excited to be involved in the project. He was unaware of the fact
that workout clothes have so many flaws in the designs. Of course, Planet Fitness is simply over-the-moon with excitement. They are working with Opal’s legal team on an advertising agreement.
The awkwardness between me and Jake has dissipated. We have both been too focused on work to think about anything else. We are both so exhausted on the way home that we fall asleep.
Daniel sends me a text as soon as we land, asking if I am interested in dinner. I look over at Jake. My heart is set on him, but I have no commitment. Daniel and I make a date for the following night. I just wish that it was Jake I was making plans with.
Jake insists on carrying my bags to the front door for me. He is kind and considerate like that—a bit of a gentleman. I decide that I like chivalry.
I thank him, and our eyes lock. We look deeply into each other’s eyes, seeing way past the superficial that the eyes see. We gaze into each other’s souls, not wanting to look away. My gaze dips to his lips. I look up at him, biting my lip. I know he can read my desire. I see a hunger that he cannot mask.
With a husky voice, he tells me, “I better go, Leigh.”
I refuse to be a needy woman who begs for affection. I simply nod while meeting his gaze. He sighs and turns abruptly. I watch as he walks to his car. What I wouldn’t give to run my hands up and down that firm back.
Clearly, we feel something. I am just not sure what.
Chapter Fourteen
October 4, 181 pounds and size 18
Damn tortilla chips. I cannot eat anything salty without being bloated. Hence the weight gain. I plan to clean out the garage today. Maybe I can burn off that extra pound.
Dick is supposed to get Michael in an hour and keep him until tomorrow afternoon. Of course, like every mother, I could use a break. Then again, the thought of Michael with Dick and Stacey Ray is terrifying. They aren’t much on responsibility.
Michael is helping me organize. I use the word “helping” loosely. He found the boxes of old toys I had planned on giving to charity. He has them spread across the garage floor.
Even when doing big chores such as this one, I do not miss Dick. He hindered progress of any kind. He loved to piddle. Yes, he actually used the word “piddle.” I cannot help but roll my eyes when I think of that. Whereas, I am the roll-up-your-sleeves-and-get-to-work type of person, he was the hold-his-coffee-cup-in-one-hand-while-he-piddled-around kind of person. He just has never quite grown up. Productivity is not his strong suit.
Michael and I are singing “Michael Row the Boat Ashore” once again when my phone rings. Dick. Of course, he will be late. No doubt, his excuse will include Stacey.
“Hello,” I answer as nicely as I can muster the grace to be.
“Hello,” he replies. “Sorry to bother you.”
“No problem.”
“Well,” he begins. “I have an issue.”
An “issue”? No fucking joke. However, I keep my smart-ass thoughts to myself.
“Okay,” I answer.
“Stacey and I are no longer together. She kicked me out.”
“Can you hold on? Michael needs help.”
“Sure.”
I place him on hold. I take a few moments to jump around, laughing hysterically. Then, I notice the old, nosey lady across the street staring at me. I gather my wits.
“Sorry to hear that,” I mumble.
“Uh huh. Anyway, I am living at the Dawson Inn for the time being.”
“That week-to-week motel on Fifth Street?”
“Yes.”
“That is not good.”
“It is less than ideal,” he agrees. “I could move back in. Help with Michael.”
“No.”
“Will that interfere with your new-found fame?” he sarcastically asks.
I ignore his tone. “Yes, it would.”
“I cannot keep him here. Nowhere for him to play. I have nothing. Not even a yard.”
“No. I would not let you.”
“Can I at least come and play with him for an hour?”
“When?”
“Now?”
“Okay.”
I text my sister, parents, and lawyer. All are thrilled with the turn of events. Strategically, it places more leverage on my side. However, I just long for a family for Michael. I want him to have stable, loving parents. I want him to have a sibling. Dick will never be part of what I long for.
Chapter Fifteen
October 10, 178 pounds and size 18
Daniel and I decide to watch a movie together at his house. He worked late, and I cooked dinner for me and Michael. We forego the typical dinner/movie combination. I do indulge in a glass of wine with him. Maybe that is why I feel so comfortable when I lay my head on his shoulder and cuddle up next to him.
He covers us with a blanket and kisses the top of my head. We laugh hysterically through the movie. There is a sense of familiarity that makes any possible awkwardness dissipate.
The movie ends and neither of us want to untangle. “Leigh,” he whispers.
“Hmmmm…” I answer.
“It is still early…”
“It is.”
“Leigh?”
The question causes me to look up at him. “Yes?” I ask while staring into his eyes.
He doesn’t have to ask the question. I already know it. I gently press my lips to his in response. He hands—his strong, capable hands—are all over my body, searching but not achieving what he needs to fill his ache.
He firmly holds the back of my head as his tongue teases mine, letting me know what could be. The thought of his tongue on my clit sends shivers down my body. I want him to want me, to taste me. He pulls me onto his lap.
“I need you,” he tells me. He lifts his hips, and I feel his hard-on. I have an uncontrollable urge to feel him inside me.
I know that he is not Jake. God knows I want him to be Jake. However, for just a few moments, I want to pretend he is. If that is wrong, well, I will just have to be wrong.
I lift his shirt, and he pulls it over his head. He works the buttons on mine. I help him. We are breathing heavily. I need this. If I cannot have Jake, I can at least have a release with Daniel. Rebound sex. Yolo and all that shit. I am supposed to be doing this, I remind myself. This is part of the healing process. I am not committed to Jake, so this is not wrong.
I shrug out of my shirt and take off my bra. I lift stand up and take off my skirt and panties. Never mind that I have fat around my middle and droopy boobs. I need his cock.
He undoes his belt and slides his pants and underwear off. Boxer briefs. Interesting. Boxer briefs, in my head, means a guy just cannot commit to one thing. I like that right now.
He slides a condom over his cock as I straddle him. His cock…it is unlike any I have ever seen. Every guy I have been with had a tapered cock. His is thick from tip to base. Wisps of dark, curly hair surround the base and his balls. It is yet another reminder of his manliness.
“I need this,” I tell him as I lower myself on him.
“I know you do. Take what you need.”
Those words spur another wave of lust. My pussy moistens and I slide it down his dick, gasping the entire time. The fullness is something I have never experienced. My cunt is full. Sensations of desire radiate through me, limb to limb. I ride him without any consideration of my soft belly.
The only thought I have is of his cock and the wantonness that has consumed me. I grab the back of his head and kiss him, thinking of Jake. In my mind, this is all about Jake. I ride him, screaming out my passion and rubbing my clit against him.
I throw my head back wildly. My long, brown hair whips around my face frantically as I writhe in need. I feel the need coil inside me only to break forth with luster. I close my eyes. I feel so intensely. I savor the moment. The orgasm ebbs only to flow into another one and yet another one.
Daniel looks at me, completely sated. In the throes of passion, I don’t remember him coming. I lay my head on his shoulder. “Sorry to be so selfish. You are just too
much for me to handle without going a little crazy. I assume you came?”
“Oh, yes!” He chuckles. “Hard to watch that sexy show of one orgasm after another and not come.”
“I would move, but I cannot. I feel so good.”
“Just relax,” he whispers as he strokes my hair. The moment is perfect…at least, it would be if it were with Jake.
Chapter Sixteen
October 20, 170 pounds and size 16
Dick is still living in the pay-by-the-week motel. Rather than find a job, he is trying to rekindle whatever the hell he had with Stacey Ray. Say what you want about Stacey, and God knows there is a lot to be said about her, she works. She works hard as a nurse in a nursing home. However, maybe that is how she gets her pill habit fed. I will have to ponder that further.
Anyway, since Dick is showing no effort to better his situation, I ask my lawyer to give Dick an offer. I want sole custody and no child support. He can visit Michael for two hours a week with my supervision and at my discretion. Many people may consider that offer selfish. I have no selfish reasons to offer it. I simply want stability for Michael.
I hold Michael closely and watch Teletubbies on Netflix with him for the eighth time today. Why, oh why, does he like Teletubbies? I’d take reruns of Barney any day over reruns of Teletubbies.
He is chewing on a frozen washcloth right now, trying to ease the pain of his molars breaking through. Needless to say, I have slept very little these last few nights. I just hold him through the night as he whimpers.
Jake has shown no mercy for my sleep deprivation. He simply asks me time and time again how badly I want this. I have to say that wearing size 16 jeans is exhilarating. I also credit Jake for my amazing ass. Yes, it is a little bigger than I prefer. I am working on that aspect. However, it has that curve where my ass meets my hamstrings. I think it is sexy. It is well-defined and definitely earned.
Revenge of a Fat Bitch Page 3
