"Is she a total bitch or what?" Emma asked when Lisha had finished. Elinor laughed, saying, "I don't want to call her any names because I want to stay on her good side!" "Anyway," Lisha, said feigning impatience, "this whole thing started with you asking me why I don't care if I'm getting fat. I told you, so now I have a question for you, Elinor: Why are you so fat?" Emma gasped at Lisha's question, saying, "I can't believe you are SO rude! That's a horrible thing to say!" Elinor looked straight at Lisha, and said, "No, actually, I don't think she was being rude. I won't take it that way, anyway. I mean, I've never been asked that question before -- not so directly. People pussyfoot around it all the time, mentioning new diets when we're together, talking about friends who've lost lots of weight, asking if I've ever undergone hypnosis, suggesting I try the 'wonderful salad' when we're at some fancy restaurant... Everyone just assumes that I'm as heavy as I am out of laziness or lack of self-control or some other personal failing. So, when you ask me that question, it's actually kind of flattering, because -- just in the asking of it -- you've made the assumption that it is a choice of mine. Which it is."

"Are you saying you want to be this particular weight?" Lisha asked. "No, but I don't mind it." "How much DO you weigh?" Lisha asked, and Emma just put her face in her hand and groaned. "Well, let's see," Elinor answered. "I'm going to guess that when you get on the scale it says that you weigh about 150 pounds. Am I close?" "Well, I weighed about 145 last week, and with the way I've been eating since I've been out here -- that might be a little on the low side, but it's in the ball park." "And I'm going to guess that Emma's scale stops in the neighborhood of 220 -- you don't have to answer." "What the hell! It's obvious that privacy isn't the order of the day. Last time I checked, I weighed about 230-235 -- but after hanging around with the human garbage can over here..." "Well," she said with a big smile, "my scale tells me I weigh 9 pounds!" The two girls looked at the older woman strangely. Elinor laughed heartily, her entire body still moving after she started to speak again. "Really, it does! See, the dial goes up to 359, and then starts with 0 again. Kind of like a ten-year old car with 15,000 miles on the odometer! I don't know how accurate it is at that level, but ten pounds either way doesn't make much of a difference when you're up that high anyway!"

She heaved herself into a sitting position just then, her enormous belly extending so far onto her lap that only her knees were uncovered, and continued speaking in a very intense fashion. "So, to answer your question -- and I'm actually pretty grateful to you for letting me answer this, since I've spent a lot of time analyzing what I'm doing, but I've never had the opportunity to voice it -- let me first tell you what some of the reasons AREN'T. Number one: I'm not fat because my genetics predestined my weight. That is the biggest bullshit cop-out ever! Genetically, it might be easier for me to gain weight because my mother and father are both very fat and always have been, but if that were inescapable, then my 6'4" brother would probably be in the neighborhood of 500 pounds rather than barely breaking 200. And if you think it's because he exercises a lot -- ha! His idea of exercise is either driving a golf cart around the course when he plays on Tuesday morning, or finding the remote control amongst the pile of empty corn chip bags.

"I'm not fat because I'm lazy -- and this really surprises some people, who assume that I lay on the couch and eat bon-bons all day. I walk everywhere possible; I take the seven flights of stairs up to my office every morning rather than ride the elevator; I only use the car out here when I have to go out of Southampton, and ride my bicycle into town for everything else." Lisha got a little excited at the mental picture of all of Elinor's bulk jiggling as she coasted down the road on her bicycle. "In fact, when I was Emma's weight, I used to still compete in 10K runs, and even now, I'm sure I could do a mile in under 10 minutes. And I'm not fat because I'm depressed or repressed or self-destructive -- I think I'm probably one of the most stable people I know. I love my job, I have a strong committed relationship with a man who would marry me if I ever wanted him to, I have plenty of money and some very good investments, I have this beautiful house and a gorgeous apartment in Manhattan, I travel, I shop, I go to the theater and the ballet and the opera and the movies whenever I want.

"So, the reason I AM fat is very simple: I love to eat, and when I eat something good, I like to eat a LOT of it! That's it -- the only reason for my extra-large body is my extra-large appetite. I have determined that there are three things in life that make it all worthwhile to me: fine food and beverages, good hot sex, and reading a first manuscript and discovering an individual voice. I will not deny myself any of those -- why should I? Besides that, I've come to love my size: I have 'presence' wherever I am and I am impossible to ignore. I am incredibly soft and yet incredibly, solidly substantial. And, since I've found a lover who worships my body, and I can combine the eating and the sex -- well, that's as close to heaven as I can expect to get!" "Too bad you can't work the reading into that somehow," Emma said, laughing. "Yeah, I've been turning that one over in my mind, but unless Simon decides to write a novel..."

"I wish I could feel that good about my weight," Emma said. "Don't get me wrong: I have no plans of putting myself, or letting anyone else put me on a diet for the rest of my life. But I still feel uncomfortable sometimes, especially in crowds. I get this feeling like I want to get through the crowd without touching anyone, but this big butt of mine makes it impossible. And then I start feeling that the other people in the crowd are either repulsed by my size and will put themselves through all kinds of contortions to avoid coming in contact with my blubber, or else they see my size as a challenge and force me to squeeze past them. I spend too much time in crowds, and that's the absolute worst time for my self-assuredness!"

"Okay," Lisha said, "I know I'm nowhere on the same scale as either of you, but I used to be, and I can understand Emma's crowd thing. Only, I used to like it! I used to love to brush my butt up against some guys hand while passing him on the street. Sometimes, I'd stick my belly out as far as it went and force myself through some narrow opening just to get a cheap thrill! And I'm sure that at least some of the guys were getting off on it just as much as I was! In fact -- do you remember Sean McCaren, the guy I went out with in eleventh grade?" Emma nodded her head yes, saying, "Of course I do! I started going out with him after you'd dumped him. He was the first guy who ever got to second base with me. I think he was so obsessed with boobs that he didn't care that I was a load."

"He was interested in way more than just boobs: I think he had a thing for fat chicks. First guy I ever believed that about. Mostly because, all those times I was walking through the halls and getting cheap thrills by rubbing up against people like some cat in heat, I started noticing that he was around wherever I was. So I started talking to him a little and doing things like bending down in front of him to look for something in the bottom of my locker, or rearranging my bra whenever I knew he was looking, or patting my belly and talking about how hungry I was. And then, when we started going out, he was all over me, but, his hands were spending way too much time exploring my belly and my big rear end -- especially since I was already having a hard enough time maintaining my determination to lose some weight. When I was heavy, it was like every inch of me was this erogenous zone, and I had this great mental schism going between the 'being-fat-is-fun' camp and the 'your-life-will-be-great-when-you're-thin' camp. Poor Sean got stuck in the middle of that battle, and when I finally declared my loyalty to the thin side, he was the first casualty."

"So, I got to heal the wounded, huh?" Emma asked. "No way! He really had the hots for you, girl. And even after you dumped him, he still wanted to take you to the junior prom and everything." "Yeah, I guess you're right. I just couldn't -- and still can't -- deal with the concept that a guy could possibly find a fat girl attractive, and if he did, then it must've meant that he was really sick and perverted." "Well," Lisha said, somewhat slyly, "it turns out that's not the only reason you've been man-less..."

Elinor had been listening intently to this conversation, following their banter as if she were watching a ping-pong match; when there was a pause in the conversation, she looked right at Lisha and asked, "So how long have the two of you been lovers?" Emma's eyes opened wide and a deep blush came over her face. "How do you know we're lovers?" Lisha asked. Elinor smiled, saying, "New York is full of all kinds of people, and with so many of them thrown together in such a small area, you encounter every variety of person regularly. After a while, you can tell who's carrying a gun, who's having an affair, who's embezzling from the company, who's gay, who's lesbian, who's sleeping their way to the top. It becomes this finely tuned extra sense -- like the one that lets cats and dogs know when an earthquake is coming. So... how long? Not long I bet."

"We've been lovers all of our lives," Emma said quietly, surprising Lisha once again with her forthrightness, "but we made love to each other for the first time this weekend. For the first time that meant something, anyway." "You make a beautiful couple," Elinor said. "And I mean that. I met Lisha for the first time just the other night, and even just in that short amount of time between then and now, there's been this change -- she looks happier, somehow, and more complete." The two girls looked at each other for a moment, smiling shy smiles, then their hands moved until their fingers were entwined.

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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