Big Beautiful Dreamer
ridiculously contented
~BBW, ~BHM, ~SWG A woodcarver and a barista slowly discover each other's true feelings.
I rang up one of my regulars regular drinks: medium nonfat white chocolate mocha. He made small talk as I made change.
Pretty weather, he said.
Yeah, finally, I agreed. Its been such a cold, wet winter. I handed back the bills and coins.
Oh, youve lost weight, I blurted, then felt my cheeks redden. What a thing to say to someone whose name I didnt even know.
He smiled sheepishly and ducked his head. I needed to, he mumbled. He looked up. I caught that stomach flu and was in bed for a week. Couldnt keep anything down. Lost eight pounds. He patted his belly, moderately rounded below a faded T shirt. But like I said, I needed to ... I could stand to lose more.
I gave a half shrug. Ah, who couldnt? I smiled and winked. Have a lovely day. He lifted his cup in a salute as he headed out.
The next day, when he came in for hot caramel apple cider, I felt myself blushing as I prepared it.
Sorry for what I said, I finally said, ringing him up.
Whatd you say? He was giving me an impish half-grin.
About losing weight.
Now it was his turn to shrug. Hey, s okay. I have lost weight. And like I said, I could stand to take off some more. He tapped his cup. Im sure this will help.
Never fails, I said. I was a flop at witty banter. I needed a better screenwriter, someone with a deft touch at the romantic comedies I liked.
Hey ... I know your name but you dont know mine, he said, sounding aggrieved. I looked up. He was grinning full on now.
Youre Natalie, he said, nodding at my name tag. And I ... ta da ... am Montague Simmons.
Monatgue, wow.
I know, right? He rolled his eyes. My moms maiden name.
Do you go by Montague?
When I was growing up, they called me Monty. But there are only so many Monty Python jokes you can hear, right? And then that movie came out, The Full Monty.
Ooh, I said. I didnt even think about that.
Yeah, I know, he said ruefully. No, I go by Tag, actually.
Oh, neat, I said, then felt like kicking myself. What was next, peachy keen?
So, Natalie, Tag said, Now that we know each others names ... could we have lunch sometime? Or dinner?
I laughed, catching my bottom lip with my teeth. Dinner would be better, I said. Im here until 4:00.
Um. How about tonight at 6:00?
Tonight?
Sure, why postpone the excitement? There was that grin again, captivating and sexy. A full mouth, decided chin, large straight nose, large soft dark brown eyes. Mmmmm.
Um, okay. I took one of the shops frequent-buyer cards, flipped it over, and printed my address. I added my phone number.
Ill come round tonight, he said. See you. Then he was gone.
I had all day to think about it. Which I did. At 23, proud possessor of a bachelors degree in English, I was saving up to go for a masters degree, hoping to teach. In addition to working as a barista, I made a little money with the editing business I advertised with a flyer on the coffee shops bulletin board. So I was about as skint as most 23-year-olds: that is, mostly. I was also no more than pleasant-looking. Id always been on the plump side; not fat, but not nubile either. My face and hair were average at best, as were my clothes. There was nothing traffic-stopping about me at all. But Tag Simmons seemed to want to spend time with me.
He thinks youre an easy lay, my inner voice mocked. In college, Id had a few boyfriends who had correctly guessed that someone as unexciting-looking as me would be glad for any guys attention. The relationship usually lasted until they bedded me, then it was over. I finally learned. Or had I?
Tag Simmons was exactly on time, a point in his favor. He brought flowers, but not roses a dozen tulips of varying colors, fresh and lovely. And in a delicately beautiful carved wooden vase. He wore a sport coat, polo, and khakis. I wore a plain dark-blue dress and was tottering a little in heels.
He diffidently suggested a restaurant; I agreed. He flagged a taxi down expertly.
In the cab, and then over spinach dip, pecan-crusted chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, broccoli, fresh hot bread, and apple tart a la mode, we talked, small talk occasional plunging into a little more depth.
Tag Simmons was a woodcarver. (The vase was one hed made.) Hed waited tables, carving items during the day and on his days off until hed built up enough inventory and found enough shops willing to carry his goods. At 28, hed only been able to quit his day job a year ago. His hands were blunt-fingered and expressive, nails clipped short, fingers and backs showing the odd scar and rough patch from his labors.
Hed not gone to college, he admitted, but had taken a few business and accountancy courses to be able to keep his own books. His eyes widened with respect on learning of my education and my plans, but our talking revealed that he read well and widely and was very informed and curious about the world (curiosity is my favorite attribute).
We lingered over dessert, and then coffee, not wanting the conversation to end.
He gave me a chaste peck on the cheek at my door.
I undressed languidly, peeling off my stockings with relief: Id eaten too much and my tummy was tender and sore. What an idiot! In Gone With the Wind, Mammy had nagged Scarlett not to eat lak a field han an gobble lak a hog. All the womens magazines and dating books pointed out that guys secretly disapproved of girls who made pigs of themselves on dates. He would probably switch java joints to avoid ever seeing me again. I resolved to put him out of my mind.
Once in my soft, baggy jammies, I lay back on the bed and snuggled in, massaging my full stomach and thinking of course about Tag.
Why in the world didnt Natalie Allesbrecht have guys falling all over her? So she didnt look like Brooklyn Decker who did? She was friendly, funny, and bright. It took me six months to work up the nerve to ask her out. She agreed I was over the moon. I piddled around in my workshop all day, achieving nothing. I was ready two hours too early, and restlessly paced and channel surfed.
She seemed to like the tulips Id brought, and the vase (my own carving), and I was entranced by the swirl and bounce of the blue dress she wore. I thoroughly enjoyed our first date. Shed seemed to. Would she say yes to another?
Id eaten lemon-roasted pork with garlic mashed potatoes and homemade applesauce yum along with way too many rolls and strawberry cheesecake. I was already too full for dessert, but I hadnt wanted the evening to end. After cheesecake, very rich, I felt stuffed, positively bloated, and longed to let my belt out a notch or three. Coffee. We dawdled as long as I dared, but I knew that the waiter wanted to turn the table and finally we left. I over-tipped, as usual. It hadnt been that long since Id been on the other side of the apron.
It was still early when I got back to my apartment. Finally alone, I undid my belt and changed into the loose T shirt and boxers that were my pajamas and flopped with a groan into my favorite chair. I let loose a couple of belches Id been suppressing and yawned hugely.
Ate too much, I announced to my dog, Spot, who blinked at me. I called Spot a semi-beagle: he was half beagle and the rest, who knew?
I channel surfed idly until I felt myself falling asleep in the chair and dragged off to bed.
The next morning brought a dilemma. If I went to the coffee shop and acted like just another customer, shed think I didnt want a second date. If I mentioned the night before, shed think I was a stalker. Finally, in need of caffeine, I went in, the jingling bell causing a knot to form in my stomach.
Oh. My. Oh my. Ohmy. Ohmyohmy. There he was. Stay cool, Natalie!
Good morning, he said pleasantly.
Morning. I was blushing, I could tell.
He gave his order. I rang it up.
Enjoyed it, he said, lightly, casually, catching my eye. He gave me a nod and a wink. See ya.
Then he was gone.
Whew!
Somehow, that had been just right. Hed acknowledged the fact that wed had a date, without announcing it to the whole shop, and hed done so subtly, skillfully, and ... wow. Just ... wow.
My stomach growled. I glared down at it. Every couple of hours, pastries were rotated to the back room so that no one would ever get a treat that was even a little old. They were free to staff. Id put on fifteen pounds worth of scones, crullers, and bear claws, and that dress Id worn last night had been snug even before the huge dinner I had gobbled down.
I successfully ignored my stomach until 11:00, when growling was replaced with cramping. I gave in and ate a blueberry muffin. Then a cinnamon scone. Then a slice of lemon pound cake it was small.
By the time I took my weary feet out of there at 4:12, I was feeling a little nauseated from over-snacking and a complete lack of remotely healthy food. Since Id snacked so close to lunch, I had virtuously skipped a proper lunch. Which meant, of course, that from around 1:30 onward Id returned to large-scale grazing. Large would apply to the numbers I saw on the scale, too. Dammit! A cute guy was interested in me and I was turning him off as fast as I could manage to move fork to mouth. Next time, I vowed if there was a next time I would go the salad route and keep my hands in my lap.
I showered away the coffee smells, glaring at my traitorous belly the whole time. It seemed to sag visibly, pink and flabby, a squashy tummy, mocking me.
I tried hard to lose myself in work. I took one of my sketches and began the preliminary cutting on what would become a set of Communion ware ordered by an Episcopal church in lower Manhattan. I glanced over my notes and drawings. A chalice was the goblet that would hold the wine. They wanted two of those. A paten was the plate that would hold the bread. Two of those, too. Theyd also asked for a cruet, like a carafe with a stopper, and a small tray and a dozen tiny Communion cups. Most take the common cup, the priest had explained, but a few prefer individual cups. The tray and small cups would be the hardest. The whole order would run the church $1,400, of which the priest had paid 50% down. A bequest, hed said. A memorial. All in polished tulip wood, a pretty wood, light brown with paler streaks twining naturally through it. The whole thing would look awfully good when I finished. It would also cover a third of my months rent in one swoop.
As I began on the first chalice, I felt my hands and tools working, but my mind was entirely on Natalie. Good gosh, what a girl! She was witty, shed dressed prettily, and shed enjoyed her dinner Id about had it with watching elbow-and-ribcage girls pick at salads, making me feel like a hog for enjoying a nice meal out. That she was not skeletal was a point in her favor.
New York was full of would-be models and actresses who made the rest of us look bad. Sometimes Id see a magazine cover of a celebrity who I thought looked shockingly thin but the cover would read not Celeb near death but Celebs beach getaway! Whoo. Natalie had seemed diffident about her looks, but I certainly thought her pretty. As I carved, I wondered how long good manners would compel me to wait before taking her out again.
After a while, when I stood to stretch, my T-shirt rode up, making me uncomfortably aware of my gut. Damn. I finished stretching and poked at my belly, displeased with its softness. I worked out with my upper body and my legs, but shirked sit-ups and the like, and it showed. Plus I was sure my daily sweet coffee-ish drinks didnt help. I was a lousy cook and depended on grocery stores pre-packed foods and occasional takeout. And I was closing in on 30. But now that Natalie seemed interested, maybe I should take off a few. Maybe for a second date I would invite her somewhere non-food-related.
I made myself wait three full days before leaning in and murmuring, May I call on you again? We settled on Saturday at the Hayden Planetarium.
He asked me out again! After the elation subsided, panic set in. I had to lose a ton of weight in no time at all. My complaining stomach did not let me get away with eating nothing between Thursday and Saturday, but I tried to keep my intake as low as I could manage.
I dont know whether I actually succeeded in losing any weight. The skirt I put on was snugger than I would have liked.
Tag picked me up and we walked, enjoying the weather. A couple of blocks away, I heard a stomach growl. He grinned sheepishly and poked at his belly, a little round teddy bear pot.
Shut up, you, he growled affectionately at it. He darted a glance at the hot dog stand on the corner. The smell was wonderful. He made a face.
Ah, I shouldnt, he murmured. He glanced at me. Took a deep breath.
Um. Would you like a dog? he asked me.
As if on cue, my stomach growled too, and too audibly. Tag grinned.
Three dogs all the way, he told the vendor. We repaired to a nearby bench, where, light-headed after three days of near-starvation, I gobbled mine with indecent haste and chugged down the pop so fast I had to stifle a most unladylike belch.
Then Tag did it for me. He had inhaled two dogs and a can of pop as quickly as I had downed my lunch, and the belch that erupted was impressive. I waited for the temblor to stop before grinning at him.
He blushed and hung his head. Scuse me, he mumbled.
I laughed at him. I think its cute. I bounced up, tugged on my top to try to conceal my tubby tummy, and threaded my arm through his, pretending not to notice the pleasant chill that ran through me as my hand accidentally brushed the side of his belly, which had a taut little pooch to it from the dogs.
Hand Made
By Big Beautiful Dreamer
By Big Beautiful Dreamer
I rang up one of my regulars regular drinks: medium nonfat white chocolate mocha. He made small talk as I made change.
Pretty weather, he said.
Yeah, finally, I agreed. Its been such a cold, wet winter. I handed back the bills and coins.
Oh, youve lost weight, I blurted, then felt my cheeks redden. What a thing to say to someone whose name I didnt even know.
He smiled sheepishly and ducked his head. I needed to, he mumbled. He looked up. I caught that stomach flu and was in bed for a week. Couldnt keep anything down. Lost eight pounds. He patted his belly, moderately rounded below a faded T shirt. But like I said, I needed to ... I could stand to lose more.
I gave a half shrug. Ah, who couldnt? I smiled and winked. Have a lovely day. He lifted his cup in a salute as he headed out.
The next day, when he came in for hot caramel apple cider, I felt myself blushing as I prepared it.
Sorry for what I said, I finally said, ringing him up.
Whatd you say? He was giving me an impish half-grin.
About losing weight.
Now it was his turn to shrug. Hey, s okay. I have lost weight. And like I said, I could stand to take off some more. He tapped his cup. Im sure this will help.
Never fails, I said. I was a flop at witty banter. I needed a better screenwriter, someone with a deft touch at the romantic comedies I liked.
Hey ... I know your name but you dont know mine, he said, sounding aggrieved. I looked up. He was grinning full on now.
Youre Natalie, he said, nodding at my name tag. And I ... ta da ... am Montague Simmons.
Monatgue, wow.
I know, right? He rolled his eyes. My moms maiden name.
Do you go by Montague?
When I was growing up, they called me Monty. But there are only so many Monty Python jokes you can hear, right? And then that movie came out, The Full Monty.
Ooh, I said. I didnt even think about that.
Yeah, I know, he said ruefully. No, I go by Tag, actually.
Oh, neat, I said, then felt like kicking myself. What was next, peachy keen?
So, Natalie, Tag said, Now that we know each others names ... could we have lunch sometime? Or dinner?
I laughed, catching my bottom lip with my teeth. Dinner would be better, I said. Im here until 4:00.
Um. How about tonight at 6:00?
Tonight?
Sure, why postpone the excitement? There was that grin again, captivating and sexy. A full mouth, decided chin, large straight nose, large soft dark brown eyes. Mmmmm.
Um, okay. I took one of the shops frequent-buyer cards, flipped it over, and printed my address. I added my phone number.
Ill come round tonight, he said. See you. Then he was gone.
I had all day to think about it. Which I did. At 23, proud possessor of a bachelors degree in English, I was saving up to go for a masters degree, hoping to teach. In addition to working as a barista, I made a little money with the editing business I advertised with a flyer on the coffee shops bulletin board. So I was about as skint as most 23-year-olds: that is, mostly. I was also no more than pleasant-looking. Id always been on the plump side; not fat, but not nubile either. My face and hair were average at best, as were my clothes. There was nothing traffic-stopping about me at all. But Tag Simmons seemed to want to spend time with me.
He thinks youre an easy lay, my inner voice mocked. In college, Id had a few boyfriends who had correctly guessed that someone as unexciting-looking as me would be glad for any guys attention. The relationship usually lasted until they bedded me, then it was over. I finally learned. Or had I?
Tag Simmons was exactly on time, a point in his favor. He brought flowers, but not roses a dozen tulips of varying colors, fresh and lovely. And in a delicately beautiful carved wooden vase. He wore a sport coat, polo, and khakis. I wore a plain dark-blue dress and was tottering a little in heels.
He diffidently suggested a restaurant; I agreed. He flagged a taxi down expertly.
In the cab, and then over spinach dip, pecan-crusted chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, broccoli, fresh hot bread, and apple tart a la mode, we talked, small talk occasional plunging into a little more depth.
Tag Simmons was a woodcarver. (The vase was one hed made.) Hed waited tables, carving items during the day and on his days off until hed built up enough inventory and found enough shops willing to carry his goods. At 28, hed only been able to quit his day job a year ago. His hands were blunt-fingered and expressive, nails clipped short, fingers and backs showing the odd scar and rough patch from his labors.
Hed not gone to college, he admitted, but had taken a few business and accountancy courses to be able to keep his own books. His eyes widened with respect on learning of my education and my plans, but our talking revealed that he read well and widely and was very informed and curious about the world (curiosity is my favorite attribute).
We lingered over dessert, and then coffee, not wanting the conversation to end.
He gave me a chaste peck on the cheek at my door.
I undressed languidly, peeling off my stockings with relief: Id eaten too much and my tummy was tender and sore. What an idiot! In Gone With the Wind, Mammy had nagged Scarlett not to eat lak a field han an gobble lak a hog. All the womens magazines and dating books pointed out that guys secretly disapproved of girls who made pigs of themselves on dates. He would probably switch java joints to avoid ever seeing me again. I resolved to put him out of my mind.
Once in my soft, baggy jammies, I lay back on the bed and snuggled in, massaging my full stomach and thinking of course about Tag.
* * *
Why in the world didnt Natalie Allesbrecht have guys falling all over her? So she didnt look like Brooklyn Decker who did? She was friendly, funny, and bright. It took me six months to work up the nerve to ask her out. She agreed I was over the moon. I piddled around in my workshop all day, achieving nothing. I was ready two hours too early, and restlessly paced and channel surfed.
She seemed to like the tulips Id brought, and the vase (my own carving), and I was entranced by the swirl and bounce of the blue dress she wore. I thoroughly enjoyed our first date. Shed seemed to. Would she say yes to another?
Id eaten lemon-roasted pork with garlic mashed potatoes and homemade applesauce yum along with way too many rolls and strawberry cheesecake. I was already too full for dessert, but I hadnt wanted the evening to end. After cheesecake, very rich, I felt stuffed, positively bloated, and longed to let my belt out a notch or three. Coffee. We dawdled as long as I dared, but I knew that the waiter wanted to turn the table and finally we left. I over-tipped, as usual. It hadnt been that long since Id been on the other side of the apron.
It was still early when I got back to my apartment. Finally alone, I undid my belt and changed into the loose T shirt and boxers that were my pajamas and flopped with a groan into my favorite chair. I let loose a couple of belches Id been suppressing and yawned hugely.
Ate too much, I announced to my dog, Spot, who blinked at me. I called Spot a semi-beagle: he was half beagle and the rest, who knew?
I channel surfed idly until I felt myself falling asleep in the chair and dragged off to bed.
The next morning brought a dilemma. If I went to the coffee shop and acted like just another customer, shed think I didnt want a second date. If I mentioned the night before, shed think I was a stalker. Finally, in need of caffeine, I went in, the jingling bell causing a knot to form in my stomach.
* * *
Oh. My. Oh my. Ohmy. Ohmyohmy. There he was. Stay cool, Natalie!
Good morning, he said pleasantly.
Morning. I was blushing, I could tell.
He gave his order. I rang it up.
Enjoyed it, he said, lightly, casually, catching my eye. He gave me a nod and a wink. See ya.
Then he was gone.
Whew!
Somehow, that had been just right. Hed acknowledged the fact that wed had a date, without announcing it to the whole shop, and hed done so subtly, skillfully, and ... wow. Just ... wow.
My stomach growled. I glared down at it. Every couple of hours, pastries were rotated to the back room so that no one would ever get a treat that was even a little old. They were free to staff. Id put on fifteen pounds worth of scones, crullers, and bear claws, and that dress Id worn last night had been snug even before the huge dinner I had gobbled down.
I successfully ignored my stomach until 11:00, when growling was replaced with cramping. I gave in and ate a blueberry muffin. Then a cinnamon scone. Then a slice of lemon pound cake it was small.
By the time I took my weary feet out of there at 4:12, I was feeling a little nauseated from over-snacking and a complete lack of remotely healthy food. Since Id snacked so close to lunch, I had virtuously skipped a proper lunch. Which meant, of course, that from around 1:30 onward Id returned to large-scale grazing. Large would apply to the numbers I saw on the scale, too. Dammit! A cute guy was interested in me and I was turning him off as fast as I could manage to move fork to mouth. Next time, I vowed if there was a next time I would go the salad route and keep my hands in my lap.
I showered away the coffee smells, glaring at my traitorous belly the whole time. It seemed to sag visibly, pink and flabby, a squashy tummy, mocking me.
* * *
I tried hard to lose myself in work. I took one of my sketches and began the preliminary cutting on what would become a set of Communion ware ordered by an Episcopal church in lower Manhattan. I glanced over my notes and drawings. A chalice was the goblet that would hold the wine. They wanted two of those. A paten was the plate that would hold the bread. Two of those, too. Theyd also asked for a cruet, like a carafe with a stopper, and a small tray and a dozen tiny Communion cups. Most take the common cup, the priest had explained, but a few prefer individual cups. The tray and small cups would be the hardest. The whole order would run the church $1,400, of which the priest had paid 50% down. A bequest, hed said. A memorial. All in polished tulip wood, a pretty wood, light brown with paler streaks twining naturally through it. The whole thing would look awfully good when I finished. It would also cover a third of my months rent in one swoop.
As I began on the first chalice, I felt my hands and tools working, but my mind was entirely on Natalie. Good gosh, what a girl! She was witty, shed dressed prettily, and shed enjoyed her dinner Id about had it with watching elbow-and-ribcage girls pick at salads, making me feel like a hog for enjoying a nice meal out. That she was not skeletal was a point in her favor.
New York was full of would-be models and actresses who made the rest of us look bad. Sometimes Id see a magazine cover of a celebrity who I thought looked shockingly thin but the cover would read not Celeb near death but Celebs beach getaway! Whoo. Natalie had seemed diffident about her looks, but I certainly thought her pretty. As I carved, I wondered how long good manners would compel me to wait before taking her out again.
After a while, when I stood to stretch, my T-shirt rode up, making me uncomfortably aware of my gut. Damn. I finished stretching and poked at my belly, displeased with its softness. I worked out with my upper body and my legs, but shirked sit-ups and the like, and it showed. Plus I was sure my daily sweet coffee-ish drinks didnt help. I was a lousy cook and depended on grocery stores pre-packed foods and occasional takeout. And I was closing in on 30. But now that Natalie seemed interested, maybe I should take off a few. Maybe for a second date I would invite her somewhere non-food-related.
I made myself wait three full days before leaning in and murmuring, May I call on you again? We settled on Saturday at the Hayden Planetarium.
* * *
He asked me out again! After the elation subsided, panic set in. I had to lose a ton of weight in no time at all. My complaining stomach did not let me get away with eating nothing between Thursday and Saturday, but I tried to keep my intake as low as I could manage.
I dont know whether I actually succeeded in losing any weight. The skirt I put on was snugger than I would have liked.
Tag picked me up and we walked, enjoying the weather. A couple of blocks away, I heard a stomach growl. He grinned sheepishly and poked at his belly, a little round teddy bear pot.
Shut up, you, he growled affectionately at it. He darted a glance at the hot dog stand on the corner. The smell was wonderful. He made a face.
Ah, I shouldnt, he murmured. He glanced at me. Took a deep breath.
Um. Would you like a dog? he asked me.
As if on cue, my stomach growled too, and too audibly. Tag grinned.
Three dogs all the way, he told the vendor. We repaired to a nearby bench, where, light-headed after three days of near-starvation, I gobbled mine with indecent haste and chugged down the pop so fast I had to stifle a most unladylike belch.
Then Tag did it for me. He had inhaled two dogs and a can of pop as quickly as I had downed my lunch, and the belch that erupted was impressive. I waited for the temblor to stop before grinning at him.
He blushed and hung his head. Scuse me, he mumbled.
I laughed at him. I think its cute. I bounced up, tugged on my top to try to conceal my tubby tummy, and threaded my arm through his, pretending not to notice the pleasant chill that ran through me as my hand accidentally brushed the side of his belly, which had a taut little pooch to it from the dogs.
