Lisha kept her eyes closed when she heard Emma step back out onto the deck, so she was totally surprised when she suddenly felt the cold bottom of the glass contact her sun-warmed belly. "Yikes!" she squealed, sitting up quickly and practically knocking the drink from Emma's hand. "That was evil!" "Not nearly as evil as what I was contemplating. I was considering pouring a little bit of it into that hole in your blubber where your belly-button used to be." "Yeah, well I could've probably poured the whole glassful into yours!" "Well, now that we've made the obvious observation that I'm much fatter than you, let's talk about your recent -- uhhh -- personal growth, which brought us out here in the first place."

"Why, I'm certain I have no idea what you're talking about," Lisha said, feigning insult. "Okay, then I'll be blunt: you're getting to be a tub again! You haven't been this fat in ten years. What's up with that?" "I'm not sure," Lisha replied, very seriously, "but I'll tell you something: I don't think I've been this relaxed or felt this free in those ten years." "What are you saying?" "C'mon. You know what I'm saying. You told me yourself that ever since you quit dieting and quit worrying about trying to make yourself into something you're not, that you've felt a million times better about your entire life. Didn't you say that?" "Yeah, I did. But I sit behind a computer all day and produce a product that's independent of ME, so it doesn't matter if I follow up on some urge to pig-out on an entire half-gallon of ice cream and can't fit into any of my clothes. You, on the other hand -- if you're getting bigger and bigger, busting seams on your costumes, suddenly you're gonna find that no one is returning your calls, and no scripts are showing up at your agent's office, and all those nice things you've gotten used to -- the house, the clothes, the jewelry, the trips -- the money's going to dry up and you're going to find yourself with nothing!"

Lisha didn't say anything for a minute, just absent-mindedly rubbed her round belly and stared out over the railing to the rolling ocean and crashing surf. "It's crazy, isn't it?" she asked rhetorically. "You paint such a bleak picture, yet such a true one. And why? There're fat people EVERYWHERE -- except in Hollywood. And even in our contracts -- there're these clauses about how they're null and void if we should become 'unsuitable for the role.' Sometimes that means a disaster like accidental disfigurement or felony arrest while making a family movie, but more times than you realize they use that when an actor or actress gains some weight. Someone told me they almost bumped Norma Jean from 'Let's Make Love' because she kept exploding out of her costumes. The captain on 'Space Trek' had to wear a girdle under his costume for most of a season or risk losing his job." She sipped her drink, then continued, "And what's it all for? Money? Do you know I made more money producing that TV special last season than I made from my first two films? And Mr. Goldrock may have been lacking in the ability to financially support his only daughter in the manner she desired, but he sure did teach her good about how to save and invest whatever money she did have. Some people may think I'm a dumb little chippie, but I'm rich! And even if Hollywood put up a big, 'No Lisha!' sign, I'd be able to live very comfortably without working for the rest of my life."

"So what's your point?" Emma asked. "Are you retiring?" "I don't know. Maybe. It's been so difficult lately -- all the glamour is worn off, and I keep getting that rebellious feeling like when I was a teenager and I'd go and do something just because my parents told me not to. It's so hard to pretend that I'm not just a trained pony, valuable only for my one trick, and glue-plant fodder when I stop bringing in the kiddies with their quarters. My agent has a staff-member whose job it is to tell me what bra and panties I should wear when I go on 'The Goodnight Show.' She's gonna have a fit when I come back from this little vacation with a tan -- not to mention a few more pounds -- because my image is not the 'beach-bunny type and a tan is inappropriate' for me."

"You sound really bitter," Emma said, somewhat sadly. "I had no idea." "Nobody does. Usually, I can keep it buried pretty well, but lately -- the weight-thing really got me. Think about it: you know how hard it is to diet, right? Well, imagine that your diet was part of your job. Imagine that a second-helping of some delicious dinner could get you fired. Imagine that your boss or someone working for your boss was around you almost all the time to tell you what you can or can't eat. When I was at the Golden Orbs dinner, I practically got in a fight with my assistant -- who's on my agent's payroll -- because when I ordered dessert, she tried to tell the waiter that he shouldn't bring it to me. I had to threaten to make a scene that was sure to get in all the papers in order to get her to back off. Of course, the shot of me stuffing my face with pie got in the papers anyway, but... And that's another thing: imagine if you were on that diet, and every minor slip-up wound up on the front page of a newspaper! At first, all that crap might be a great motivation to keep you on-track, but eventually, you realize how degrading it is and how much it makes you want to fight back."

"So, is that why you've been gaining weight? Some kind of revenge?" Lisha smiled, saying, "Well, revenge is supposed to be sweet and served cold -- just like ice cream. And you know how I love ice cream!" They both laughed a little, relaxing somewhat from the darkness of the conversation up to that point, then Lisha continued. "At first it WAS a little bit of petty revenge. I started sneaking over to the Twenty-Four/Seven at three in the morning, wearing a disguise, and buying out one of their display racks of chocolate bars. Then I'd go home and eat like a pound of chocolate at a sitting, every night for two weeks straight, until I'd gained like five pounds and Randi, my agent, told Elizabeth, my assistant, that she'd better get me under control or risk losing her job. Elizabeth's a real bossy little bitch, anyway -- except when we're around Randi and she's as sweet as pie, making me look like the bitch -- and I didn't particularly care if she got fired. So, I did the diet all day, let Elizabeth do my shopping and prepare meals and everything. But as soon as I was home alone -- boom! I turned into this non-stop eating machine and by the time the Golden Orbs came around, I'd put on a total of twelve pounds.

"The thing is -- the more I was pigging out to make a point, the more I was remembering how much I loved to eat. I was having a lot of fun, and I was starting to look at my body as if it was mine -- something, I realized, that I hadn't been doing for years!" "Since we went away to that camp -- right?" Emma asked, knowing the answer already.

Lisha looked out at the ocean again, stopping for a moment to check on Elinor's big body, lying on the sand below. "What do you remember when you think about your childhood?" she asked. "I don't know," Emma answered. "A lot of things I don't want to remember, but... I guess I think about us always being together, having a lot of fun, being closer than sisters ever could be." "Me, too," Lisha said. "And all these actors and actresses jumping on the 'dysfunctional family' bandwagon -- they don't know what the hell it means! They just think it makes good copy. My parents didn't buy me a pony, but that wasn't abuse. I remember having a great childhood, great parents, a great friend. We weren't rich, but we certainly weren't poor. I was really popular and did very well in school -- class president in ninth and tenth grade, and honor society every year. All that, and I was fat as a pig most of the time!" "Oh, you weren't that bad," Emma said. "Oh, yes I was! I'm sure I weighed more then than you do now. I was 236 pounds when we checked into that camp. And the only reason I went -- the only reason I suddenly cared about my weight -- was because they wouldn't give me the lead role when we did 'Oil' for the spring musical, even though I was a much better actress and sang much better than ANYONE else who auditioned!" "Oh, God! Do you remember: they gave the role -- and the operative word here is 'gave' -- to Renata Lewis. She couldn't act or sing and her parents were practically the only people who clapped for her to come out and take a bow." "And why did they give it to her? One reason and one reason only: she wasn't fat. It was my first -- obviously belated -- introduction to that nasty prejudice."

She sat up on the side of her chair, so agitated and animated by the conversation, that she didn't even take any pleasure in the way her belly rolled out over her thighs. "Up to that point, I didn't care that I was fat. I mean, I was fat and you were fat and we were always together and we had some of the greatest fun just eating and not even caring. When I think back on what were some of my most vivid memories, they almost always involve you and me and lots and lots of food! Do you remember the Honor Society Bake Sale?" Emma smiled and shook her head in mock embarrassment, saying, "Do you think they had any clue what a mistake they were making when they put us in charge of collecting all the cakes and storing them and then bringing them into the bake sale the next morning? It's like asking junkies to mind the drug store!" "We maintained our willpower for -- what -- two hours, maybe?" "If that!" "And then, there we were, down in the basement of your house, opening the spare refrigerator and stuffing our faces like starving animals. We ate like four whole cakes the first trip down and then I think we polished off another four before we passed out up in your bedroom. I remember being so stuffed that I was sure I was going to rupture something." "And the next morning we had to take money out of our savings accounts to buy replacement cakes, and -- the best part was -- we had like fifteen dollars left over, and we used it to buy more cake from the bake sale!" "God, we were such incredible little pigs! It's amazing we didn't weigh 500 pounds."

If you've got any comments or criticisms, you can post them on the WeightBoard or e-mail me at: melaniebel@aol.com.

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