Fat (16 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I kept checking the orders that had come through
Chubbalicious
, just to make sure.

This was really my life.

Success shouldn’t have tasted so strange, but it did.

Brant’s graduation ceremony was at two so I had plenty of time to psych myself out, but I was determined not to.

This was the new me.

And it was just Brant. Just my friend.

Just the man who once wanted to be my lover, who’d started me on this journey.

As I put on the matching lavender lace bra and panty set, I looked in the mirror. I used to avoid them, but I was determined to look at myself and find something to like about what I saw.

There were stretch marks. Rolls. My belly hung down like a pouch. My body looked like I’d had children, but I hadn’t. My hips were rounded, my breasts were full. I wasn’t going to let myself choose my breasts as the thing to like, that was the easiest choice. Good breasts were good breasts, it wasn’t hard to like breasts.

What was hard to like were the stretch marks, the angry red slashes down my belly. The dimpling on my thighs. The apron of fat of my abdomen.

I pushed my hands down my belly to my thighs. I forced myself to look at it. I liked the contrast of the lavender lace against my pale skin, but that was easy to like too.

No, I was determined to like something unlikable.

My belly. I would find something that made it worthwhile.

I turned this way and that, forcing that reel of negative talk and insults in my head to be quiet. I rubbed it up and down, like a smooth marble Buddha statue. There was a time when only rich women had a body like this, a time when men made statues to honor this kind of shape.

Even though that time wasn’t now, I would find a way to honor it myself.

I realized how soft my skin was, like silk. It was substantial, but supple. I wrapped my arms around my middle and there was something nurturing about not just my curves, but even my girth, my width. It was warm. It was safe. It was where I’d offered nurturing to those I loved. It was part and parcel of me.

You are lovable
. I looked in the mirror and for the first time, I didn’t want to break it so I didn’t have to see myself. It was okay to be me. It was okay to be in this body.
You are beautiful
.

I believed it. I really, finally, honestly believed it.

I sank to the floor and I cried.

But they weren’t tears of grief or sadness, I guess it was more of an exorcism. I released all the bad that was just hanging out in my skull, ready to infect me with doubt at a moment’s notice.

The crying would make my face puffy, but I didn’t care. I let the emotion roll through me, over me, until I could look at myself again.

When I could finally finish dressing, my fingers were clumsy on the buttons. They didn’t feel like my fingers because they were so light, like hollow wood. I hadn’t realized how much everything had weighed me down, not just my heart, my everything. Knots unraveled in my shoulders, it was easy to hold my head high, my back straight. I wasn’t worried about sucking in my belly, or shrinking into the smallest space possible.

After fixing my hair, my makeup and stockings, I looked in the mirror again.

“Hello, you.” I said out loud, then satisfied with myself, I drove to the ceremony.

I expected to feel uncomfortable, on display, but I didn’t. Not even when there wasn’t anywhere for me to sit. I stood in the back and watched Brant get his degree.

Our eyes met, and he nodded to me from the stage and I smiled.

It was so strange how fast life could change. I thought about where I’d been a month ago and where I was now. It was like a different universe.

I wandered from the auditorium to the banquet hall and waited. I debated leaving before we had a chance to talk. Even though he invited me, he hadn’t made any other contact.

But he deserved to know how he changed me—how he helped me change myself.

The graduates milled in with their families, but Brant wasn’t with anyone. Only himself. He beelined for me.

“Thank you so much for coming.” It could have been any nicety uttered from any tongue that afternoon, but it sounded like a benediction coming from Brant. He pulled me into a quick hug, just long enough to smell his cologne and remember how good his arms felt.

Suddenly, I was so glad I’d decided to be brave. “Of course. I know how hard you’ve worked for this. You should be so proud of yourself.”

“I am.” He nodded. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Why not? You asked me to.”

He shrugged and looked away. “I quit the club.”

“Rosa just told me.”

“It served its purpose.”

A lot like he and Kieran had. They’d been catalysts of sorts—both of them. “I really wanted to tell you something.”

“Yeah?” He looked up, his expression unreadable.

“First, I’m proud of you for chasing your dreams. I think it’s amazing that you did this all on your own, no matter what it took. Second, I wanted to tell you that you changed me. In a good way. You didn’t just tell me I was a certain thing, you showed me. I don’t know if I can ever thank you for that.”

He was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, he said, “How did the launch go?”

“It was…surreal. I sold out in a half an hour.”

The unreadable, solemn expression bloomed into a smile. “That’s great, Claire. I never doubted your success for a second.” Silence reigned again, an icy queen. “How’s Kieran?”

I bit my lip. “I don’t know.”

“That bastard.”

“No, it’s okay. Really. We talked about it.” If you could call what happened talking about it. “And we realized it wasn’t going to work. I mean, we hadn’t even had one day as a couple before he was fucking someone else. Kieran and I, we’re all ashes and dust.”

“Surely the friendship is worth saving.”

“He didn’t want to.”

“I’m sorry. This is my fault. It just… I thought you needed to get him out of your system. Or he had to get you out of his.”

“Yeah, well, I guess we both did with no half measures.” I sighed. “But we don’t have to talk about Kieran. I’m here to celebrate your day. To be your friend the way you were mine. You deserve that.”

He had gone quiet again.

“Hey, you know, what happened? I hope you’re not sorry for that. It was painful, but it was a useful kind of pain. You might even say transformative. I’m not sorry it happened. I mean, part of me wishes that I hadn’t said yes to Kieran joining us, but then I’d have wondered. I’d have kept doubting myself.”

“Now you don’t doubt yourself?” he asked, sounding curious.

“Of course I do.” I laughed. “But the difference is that when I talk myself through it, I believe what I say.” I shrugged.

“I’m still sorry he treated you the way he did.”

“He has his own demons. I guess we all do,” I said thinking of Bex.

“You’re right about that.” He took my hand. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. More than you know.” My stupid nose prickled again. I was not going to cry. I’d cried enough in the last month to last me forever. I wasn’t that girl, the one who always had tears in her beer.

“Are you sure you don’t want Kieran?”

“I’m sure.”

“Maybe we can start over, Claire. I’d like to call you sometime.”

I laughed. “I’d like you to call me. Hell, let’s get crazy. You could even text.”

“That might be too rich for my blood.” He winked.

“Okay. How about tonight we celebrate like we planned. Midnight picnic, champagne under the stars to celebrate
Chubbalicious
and your graduation.”

“You don’t think that might be a little too familiar too soon?”

I considered him for a moment. There was no doubt he made my body sing, but that’s not what I was after. “No, I don’t. See, I want you to be my friend first. Like you offered before. Midnight picnics are my favorite things.”

“What if I can’t help but get fresh?”

“No, I know you.” And I realized that while I may not know everything about Brant Edward Bowman, I knew the important things.

“All the mystery is gone already,” he teased.

“Mystery is overrated. Intimacy is kind of nice.”

“Kinda. If you’re into that.” He wrapped his arm around my waist. “So, you want to get out of here?”

“What about the reception?”

“Fuck it. You’re the person I wanted here and you came. That’s all I needed.”

“Okay, it’s a long time until picnic time. What do you want to do?”

“How about we get some supplies for our picnic and take some long drives down some unknown country roads until we find a place we like?”

“Yeah, that sounds rather perfect.”

As I walked with him out to his car, I knew I was going to get my happily ever after. I didn’t know if it was going to be with Brant, but I had the rest of my life with a version of myself I was proud to be.

As it turned out, being fat wasn’t the worst thing I could be. I didn’t have to change my outside to get my happy ending. I had to change my insides.

One of my favorite romance writers says that happy ever after is a journey not a destination.

I think she’s right.

***Are you ready for Bex’s story? You can read about her journey here:

Slut

“You’re a woman who is comfortable in her own sexuality. That necessarily means you must be labeled, categorized and filed away for everyone’s safety.” 
Rebecca “Bex” Foxworth likes that description of herself. It makes her sound strong, dangerous, and powerful—like she’s standing against some grand injustice by using her body as she sees fit. That’s how her friend Claire Howard sees her and if Claire has taught her anything, it’s that labels are defined by the people who wear them, and not the other way around. 
But SLUT is more than a label to Bex: it’s her armor. It protects her from ever having to share her true self. The loop in her head tells her she’s innately flawed and wholly unworthy. Why else would her parents insist she go under the knife for a new nose, a new body, and plastic perfection? 
That’s something Thornton Henry Edgeleaf would never understand. Thornton is perfect, in every way—handsome, worldly, passionate—with just one unforgivable flaw: he’s utterly sincere. It makes Bex want to run screaming, back into the familiar, indifferent arms of men who won’t fail to dismiss and mistreat her. But nothing’s as easy as it used to be…