The Lighter Side of Large (40 page)

“Excellent, excellent, do have a seat,” she pulls out a chair and walks back around to her own. “Can I get you some coffee? Cappuccino?”

“Is it fat-free?” I ask.

She laughs. “Well, of course it is. We are mostly women working here and we’re all watching our waistlines. But first, let me take you on a tour of our facilities.”

Maggie guides me through their offices and I meet writers, editors, artists and even a photographer, who is shooting a group of models on the roof. It’s impressive -very impressive. I wonder why they want little old me to write a feature for them.
Am I up to the challenge?
I wonder as we look over the next month’s layout. This isn’t a personal blog. This is the big time, a real publication. I glance over my outfit again.

We return to Maggie’s office and her assistant brings us our cappuccinos. “So, tell me, Bella,” Maggie folds her hands together. “What do you think? Is this a job you’d like to do?”

“Yes,” I gush.

Maggie nods. “Good, good. I like to think of Fab You as more than just another women’s magazine. I mean, let’s be honest: they all feature the same things and they’re all about improving women’s lives and selling products to women. But your blog really caught our attention. Writing from the perspective of someone who truly can relate to so many women - overweight women or women who just want to lose that last five pounds but never get around to it: this has potential. It really does. May I be blunt?”

“Sure,” I say.”When I read your blog, so many ideas popped into my head. For example, being an overweight single parent; dating and the overweight woman; the lack of up-to-date trends in plus-size fashions; the implication of genetics and race in obesity. Bella, you’ve stumbled onto a goldmine. So much so, in fact, that I think,” she tapped her computer keyboard for emphasis, “there’s a book deal in all of this.”

“Really?” I gawk. My worries about making a good impression fly out the window. A book deal? From blog to book? I start shaking with excitement. I set down my cappuccino to keep from spilling it.

“Oh, yes, really,” Maggie nods. “Of course, that all depends on the feedback we get from your articles, but I suspect they’re going to increase our readership.”

Maggie speaks more but I hardly hear her. Me, writer of a weekly news column.

Me, feature writer for major monthly magazine.

Me, author of a book.

Me, making money.

Me, voice of the overweight woman.

“So, tell me your thoughts,” says Maggie, bringing me back to reality. Need some time to think about it?”

I smile. “No. I’ve made up my mind.”

•

“A book deal, Dad! Can you believe it?” I am dancing around my hotel room at the Crown Plaza, talking on the phone.

“I knew you’d go far with your writing,” Dad says. “I told you so.”

I laugh. “That’s the best ‘I told you so’ I’ve ever heard.”

“Make sure you get an attorney to look over your contract to make sure everything is on the up and up,” Dad admonishes. “Don’t sign until you’ve read the fine print.”

“Oh Dad, ever the pragmatist,” I say. “I don’t think Fab You will try anything shady. They flew me here, took me out to eat at what has got to be the most expensive restaurant in Auckland, and then put me up in the Crown Plaza. But I will see if Jae knows anyone who can look it over for me.”

“That’s my girl,” he says. “Have you shared the good news with Jae?”

“Not yet,” I say. “I want to call Mama Rose first and let her know.”

“I’m sure Sands will be excited to hear about it.”

I stare out my window at the gorgeous view of the harbour, wishing Jae was here. “Sands doesn’t know I’m here. I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had a chance to chat with her and Riyaan and Cat in a while.”

“There’s no such thing as chance,” Dad says. I know what his next words will be.

“Make opportunities instead of waiting for them,” I finish his sentence. It is one of his most oft-repeated nuggets of advice.

“That’s right,” Dad agrees. “I’ll let you go now. Hope you have a safe flight and I’ll see you Monday.”

“Right. Love you, Dad,” I say.

•

“Good Morning,” I say into my phone. I’m at the airport, awaiting my flight back to Nelson.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Jae replies.

“I’m about to get on the plane, so we should land on time.”

“Good,” he says. “I have a surprise for you. I won’t be taking you home right away.”

“Really? Why not? What’s up?” I probe.

“Well,” he begins, “I booked a suite at the Rutherford Hotel for us.” And then he is silent, waiting for my reaction.

I gasp. He booked a suite. That means our relationship is about to go to the next level. “That sounds wonderfully romantic,” I reply shyly. I think about how I wished he was with me last night at the Crown Plaza. Wishes do come true.

“But first,” I can tell he’s smiling by his tone, “There’s a big charity ball that I’m taking you to tonight.”

“What?” I say, dumbfounded. “What charity ball? I don’t have anything to wear…”

“I’ve got it all taken care of,” he says. “Don’t worry.”

“You’ve never mentioned charities before,” I accuse. “Is this something new?”

“No, no, it’s a business thing, an annual ball” he says dismissively.

My heart sinks. The last “business thing” involving Jae and I was my less-than-stellar introduction to his old business associates at the grand opening of go 4 It. The overheard insulting comments come flooding back:
Obviously not from our set. That’s disgusting. Is he really that desperate? He should get back together with Amanda if that’s the best he can find. What does he see in her?
My hopes of a romantic night with Jae dissolve into melancholy at the thought of spending the evening with people who think the worst of me.

“We’re going to have a great time, Bella,” Jae says. “Are you up for it? Not too tired from your trip?”

I grimace and bite the bullet. “Sure, I’m up for it.”

“Fantastic,” Jae sounds excited. “I’ll see you in a couple hours. Bye-bye.”

“Bye,” I say, hitting the end call key. “And all good things must come to an end,” I say to myself. One minute, I’m on a high from the new writing job and possible book contract. The next, I plunge into gloom at the thought of seeing Simon the Orange Suit and the Rejectors. Though the title makes them sound like a has-been 80s band, I can’t laugh. I sigh, pick up my carry-on and head for the gate.
Well, I muse, I’m a part of Jae’s life. It’s time his crowd accepts it or not.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“Our perception of reality isn’t always correct.”

FROM BELLA’S BLOG
http://www.thelightersideoflarge.com/ch23

There is nothing better than stepping off a plane and seeing your boyfriend waiting for you with flowers. “How sweet! Thank you,” I say and give him a kiss as he hands me a posy of pink roses.

“How was your flight?” Jae asks, grabbing my carry-on and guiding me to the door with his hand on the small of my back.

“Good. Did you miss me?”

“Of course I did,” Jae bends down and gives me a loud smack on the cheek as proof. “Are you ready for a busy day?”

“A busy day? Jae, what are you up to? I thought we have a ball to attend tonight,” I ask.

“We do,” Jae winks, “but in the absence of a fairy godmother, I thought you, as the fairytale princess, might like a bit of pampering to get ready for the ball.”

Jae refuses to reveal anything more. When we step out into the sunshine from the airport terminal, a long black stretch limousine awaits us at the curb. I laugh. “Wow, someone is sure pulling out all the stops today.”

He smiles as the chauffeur opens the door. “And why wouldn’t I?” he asks innocently, hand over his chest. “I am the luckiest man on earth to have such an amazing, successful woman for a girlfriend. Of course I would want to demonstrate just how much I appreciate her.” He leans forward and whispers into my ear. “Besides, I have big plans for later tonight, so I thought I’d better up my game to get you in the mood.”

“Oh you do, do you?” I laugh more as I slide in, thrilled that the vehicle doesn’t lean to one side.
Thank God for small mercies.
“Trust me,” I add, “it wouldn’t take much sucking up to get me there.”

He chuckles, but his eyes flash with an intensity that tells me he didn’t miss the true meaning in my double entendre.

We snuggle together on the back seat of the limousine as it drives through the streets of Nelson, gazing at each other. Anyone would think we had been separated from each other for weeks. “Come on, give me a hint where we’re going,” I plead.

“All right,” Jae relents. “We need to get you a ball gown,” he confesses as the limo pulls up to the curb. I look out and dread engulfs me: we’ve stopped in front of the AmandaE store on Trafalgar Street.

“What are we doing here?” I ask.

Jae takes my hand. “We are shopping for a ball gown.”

“But- “

He holds up a hand. “I’ve pulled a few strings and they’ve agreed to help change your mind about AmandaE.”

I shake my head, not getting out of the car even though the chauffeur stands there with the door open for me. “But I haven’t even heard back from their president and it’s been three weeks since I wrote her a letter. How concerned can they be about little old me when they don’t bother to reply?”

Jae cups my face and kisses me ever-so-softly. “Do you trust me?”

I look into his eyes. They are full of love with a twinkle of humour. “Yes, I trust you.”

His face breaks into a grin. “Then let’s get you a gown.”

I feel miserable as we walk into the store, hand in hand. Well, Jae strides in; I follow with heavy footsteps, like a lamb to the slaughter. We are immediately approached by
that
manager; a salesgirl hangs back at a respectful distance. “Mr Elliot,” the manager purrs with a practiced smile, “and Ms White.” Her smile freezes. I get the impression that humble pie is not something she often eats. “We’re so glad you came today.”

Jae nods. “Are you ready for us?”

The manager gestures to her left. “Right this way. Cheryl and I will be assisting you.” She leads the way and we follow.

Threading through racks of clothing, we come to the formal gown section of the store. It’s a kaleidoscope of colour and swishy fabrics, a riot of lace and chiffon and satin and taffeta and silk. I’ve never tried on formals before, excluding my wedding gown, and even that was rather plain. But these gowns are gorgeous. There are slinky column gowns fit for movie stars on the red carpet; poufy ball gowns to make any woman a princess for a night; and cocktail gowns best suited for clubbing.

“What would you like to try on first?” Jae asks me.

I panic. I doubt any of the gowns here will accommodate my size sixteen butt. “I’m not sure,” I hesitate.

“Perhaps they can suggest something?” Jae prompts the manager.

“Yes, Mr Elliot,” she gushes, stepping forward. “Is there a certain colour or style which you prefer?” she asks me.

I’m overwhelmed and only see a blur of colour. “If this is a black tie affair, maybe I should stick with black?”

The manager nods. “We have several black gowns. Which size do you need?”

The moment has come where I want to melt into the floor.
Great. I get to announce to Jae what my huge size is.
“Sixteen,” I reply.

The manager looks me up and down like she thinks I’m lying before turning and picking through the gowns. She grabs four. “This way, please,” she says, leading me to the dressing room.

“I want to see them, too,” Jae says, taking a seat just outside the dressing rooms.

I give him a wan smile. “If I fit into them,” I warn him.

The manager hangs up the dresses on the hooks in one of the rooms. “If you need another size, just let me know,” she says and leaves me alone. I shut the door and examine the dresses doubtfully. They all say size twelve, which is the biggest size they carry. I know I won’t be able to zip them up.

With a sigh, I undress and slip on the first one, a short chiffon one with spaghetti straps which comes to my knees. I’m surprised I even got it over my hips and I start to zip it up. It stops halfway. With a sigh, I look in the mirror. It’s cute, very cute. I turn slowly around, examining myself in the mirror. I gasp. “It fits!” I exclaim. The zipper doesn’t stop halfway - it zips the whole way. The back is just very low.

“Let’s see,” I hear Jae call.

I step out of the dressing room, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Jae’s eyes pop out of his head. “Hello, gorgeous,” he whistles in appreciation.

“I can’t believe it fits!”

“Of course it fits,” Jae replies softly. “Look at yourself in the mirror. Really look: you’re not a big woman anymore, Bella.”

I turn around and around, admiring myself in the triple mirrors outside the dressing room.
He’s right: I am far from the woman I was.