Britt Reid
Library Editor
~BBW/Anorexic, Dialogue - A fat girl tries to connect with a childhood friend caught in a tragic nightmare
Chapter One
Is that all you're having? Leslie asked after Jessica ordered a dinner salad: no cheese, no croutons, no dressing and a Diet Coke.
Im not really that hungry. Jessica looked down at the napkin on her lap. I had a huge breakfast.
Great, Leslie thought, youre half-starved, already.
The waitress shifted her weight from one sandaled foot to the other, impatient. Leslie saw toenails painted purple, the polish fading and chipped. Well, I guess Im the only one whos eating, so I'll try to eat enough for both of us.
The waitress did not crack a smile.
I'll have the Bacon Cheeseburger with the seasoned fries, Leslie said.
To drink? The waitress stared at the fat on Leslies arms.
A Diet Coke. I'm trying to watch my figure. Leslie gave a self-deprecating laugh, felt her face grow warm.
The waitress nodded, tucked her pad into her apron and finally smiled. Leslie watched her stop at a booth near the kitchen to flirt with two college guys, streaks of blonde staining their light brown hair. She turned her attention back to Jessica. So, I havent seen you inwhat? Ages, or two semesters, at least. What have you been doing with yourself?
Besides not eating? thought Leslie.
Leslie studied her friend. Jessica had taken the napkin from her lap and was now twisting a corner into shreds. Bits of white paper floated like ash onto the red table cloth. She appeared malnourished, diluted, empty. Her once plump face had retreated into her skull. The skin stretched tight against it. Her dark brown hair, so thick and unruly 10 months ago, seemed to have thinned right along with the rest of her. It hung limp and lifeless in a tight ponytail. The UCLA sweatshirt engulfed her like a blanket, seemed out of place in the Arizona summer heat.
Oh, not much, I guess. Glad that school is out. Jessica gave a half-smile that failed to reach her eyes. Leslie noticed dark circles underneath.
Yeah, Ill bet. Me, too. You're lucky, though. You get to go out of state. How's LA? Do you like it? You must. You didn't come home for the holidays, and I guess you were too busy to answer my emails. Leslie gave her friend a reproachful look. She couldnt help it. A whole year and only two emails.
She and Jessica were best friends, or at least had been. They had grown up across the street from each other, did everything together: read the same books, liked the same music, and shared crushes on boys. Over the years, they'd eaten hundreds of meals with each other and traded tons of clothesextra largeuntil now. Now, Leslie was fat, and Jessica was thin.
If we were still in high school, Leslie thought, I'd probably be eating lunch alone, because nobody really likes to be seen with the fat, unpopular girlunless they are fat and unpopular, too.
Yeah, I guess. Jessica had stopped playing with her napkin and was now examining a photo on the dessert plaque: two giant brownies piled high with vanilla ice cream and hot fudge, whipped cream and chocolate shavings.
Yeah, I guess what? Guess that you like it, or guess that you didnt have time to answer my emails? For Cramminy sake she noticed that Jessica was still looking at the dessert menu. Leslie tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice. Do you want to split a dessert?
No, I was just looking, Jessica set the dessert plaque back on the table. Im sorry I didnt email you. Things were just I dont know Different. Nodifficult. They were difficult, with classes and all. Overwhelming, actually."
Well, you sure look good. What did you do? Stop eating? The words came out sarcastic and cruel. Leslie tried to smooth the jealousy and resentment, unsightly wrinkles, out of her voice. Aren't you boiling in that sweatshirt? I mean, flaunt it if you got it, right? I know I would.
Jessica shrugged. I get cold in the air conditioner. And who'd want to look at this, anyway?
She gestured to her body and stuck out her tongue.
Please, tell me you're joking. Now, me, on the other hand, Leslie held her hands away from her hips, freshman fifteen, baby! And I didnt have to leave home to get them.
Leslie felt uncomfortable. Isnt this the type of thing they'd made fun of in high school? The cheerleaders exclaiming over non-existent thighs in the bathroom mirror, Ohhhhh I am soooo fat!
The waitress returned with their drinks and told them their order would be out shortly. Jessica looked expectantly towards the kitchen. Leslie found herself staring in the same direction, waiting for her cheeseburger to arrive, so she could eat, make her excuses and leave the hollowed out stranger sitting across from her.
The waitress returned and put their food on the table. Leslie started to pour ketchup on her fries, when she noticed Jessica staring at her salad with a taut expression. Whats wrong? They couldnt have screwed up your order. You didnt order anything.
I cant eat this. Jessica picked a small piece of shredded cheddar from her salad and held it up for Leslie to see. She looked on the verge of screaming or tears. Leslie couldnt tell which.
OK, so pick it out. Thats what theyre going to do, if you send it back. Its no big deal, really. Leslie rolled her eyes.
No, I cant eat this, Jessica pushed the plate of salad away from her and watched Leslie take a bite of her cheeseburger.
Well, send it back, then. Eat something, for goodness sake. Thats why were here, isnt it? To eat.
Jessica sunk down into the black, vinyl booth. Her teeth clenched, and she crossed her arms and hugged her sides until she resembled someone in a straitjacket. She looked panicked, like she expected Leslie to jump across the table and force feed her the saladcheese and all.
Sorry. Look, we'll send it back. They'll make you a new salad, and everyone will be happy, OK? Leslie patted her friends hand. OK?
Jessicas eyes glistened. She dabbed at them with the remnant of her napkin and nodded like an obedient child. All right. Thanks.
Uncrossing her arms, she sat up in the booth.
Leslie motioned for the waitress. Lookthere's a piece of cheese on this salad. Could we get another one?
But the cheese is off the salad now. It's on the plate. The waitress put her hands on her hips and appeared annoyed.
"Yes, I know, but we," Leslie tilted her head towards Jessica, "need a new salad."
Jessica, her face the same shade as the table cloth, shrunk back down into the booth.
The waitress sighed and started to remove the salad. Jessica touched her arm and she stopped, clearly exasperated, as Jessica asked hesitantly, Uhm Would it be possible for you to leave that one here? I won't eat it. I just want to be sure you dont bring me the same salad twice.
The waitress stared at Jessica, searching the baggy sweatshirt for signs of aluminum foil hidden within to block alien transmissions.
I may be fat, but at least I'm not a nut case, Leslie thought.
If that's what you want. The waitress sighed, louder this time, and headed back to the kitchen. On her way, she stopped to say something to the two guys in the booth, which made them laugh and sneak glances at Leslie and Jessica's table while the waitress shook her head.
Leslie took a bite of her cheeseburger and tried not to notice their amusement, stuffing her annoyance down into her gut. The meat was cooked just right, a little pink in the middle. The juice ran down her chin, and she wiped it away with her napkin. Jessica watched her intently.
Do you want a bite? Leslie asked.
No. It just looks good.
It is good. Leslie smacked her lips and dipped a fry in ketchup. I'd offer you some, but it might make you fat.
The waitress returned with the salad: lonely leaves of Romaine, naked and vulnerable on a white porcelain plate that clanked the table when she set it down. Jessica thanked her, but the waitress ignored her.
Leslie watched her friend methodically cut each leaf into shreds of green confetti, then carefully lift a speck to her mouth and chew it slowly. As she watched the uniform rise and fall of Jessicas jaw, Leslie began to count: 1,2,3,4 .....19, 20, swallow. Leslies anger grew. Are you going to chew every bite twenty times? Because I really don't want to sit here all day.
You counted how many times I chewed my food? Jessica gaped at Leslie.
Don't look at me that way. It's a little odd, don't you think? She imitated her friend, Oh, do you mind, I can't eat this. I already picked the cheese out, but I still need a brand new one. Ohand, by the way, can you leave the salad here, because I want to make sure that you don't just bring me the old one. Because if you did, I probably couldn't tell the frigging difference!
Jessica seemed to shrink deep inside herself. Sorry. Look if you want the salad that I'm not eating...
Her voice quivered and then trailed off. Leslie threw her cheeseburger onto the plate. It landed in a pile of ketchup, which splattered onto the front of her blouse.
You, actually think, this is about me wanting to eat more food? You would think that. Why should I be so surprised? You think that I want to eat your stupid salad! Leslie's voice was rising. The guys sitting in the booth by the kitchen stared. She glared at them. We've been best friends our whole lives. Then, you decide to go away to college. And you stop responding to my emails, stop returning my calls. Blow me off like I'm some chick you hardly know, don't want to know! Whatwere you too busy learning not to eat to remember that I wanted to hear from you, to talk to you? And then, you don't even tell me you're backmy mom tells me."
Leslie shook her head. "I don't know why I even asked you to lunch.
Jessica stared at her salad. Leslie continued, It's like your personality disappeared along with the rest of you.
She looked across the tabledaring Jessica to say something, to do something. Jessica kept her eyes on her plate, her shoulders hunched, her jaw set, her face expressionless.
The waitress reappeared. Everything all right?
Yes, fine. Leslie said tightly. Jessica didn't look up. The waitress put their check on the table and made a hasty retreat.
Leslie looked down at her cheeseburger. She had taken only a few bites, yet there was barely half left.
OK, you really are a pig, she thought, disgusted. The waitress was now leaning against the booth where the guys Leslie had glared at just a moment ago were seated. All three of them were looking her way. Leslie felt like an irate mother loudly chastising a cowering child down an aisle in a crowded supermarket. She was embarrassed. Embarrassed to be making a scene. Embarrassed to be the fat woman who downed a cheeseburger while her super skinny friend ate threads of lettuce off a salad plate.
You know what. Just forget it. Lunch is on me. Leslie grabbed the check and slid out of the booth. Enjoy your salad.
The trio next to the kitchen watched Leslie walk to the register. She kept her eyes fixed on the red and black circles covering the carpet like intersecting hoola hoops. When she handed her check to the smiling woman behind the register, Leslie realized the waitress had charged her for both salads.
Go figure, she thought, but paid anyway.
Outside the restaurant, she examined her reflection in the plate glass window. Her blonde hair was short. Too short. It barely covered her ears. Her mother said it brought out her blue eyes, but all Leslie saw was a double chin. Her blue blousethe nicest thing she ownedwas too tight. The material strained at her armpits, and she felt it digging into her back whenever she moved. Her pants had wedged their way up her butt crack, again. She bought them thinking their black color would be slimming. Now she walked around with a permanent wedgie and a roll of fat peeking over an elastic waistband.
Leslie cupped her hands around her eyes and placed them on the window, searching for Jessica. She found her estranged friend still hunched over her barren salad at the table. Leslie had hoped, even expected, to see Jessica upset: her head on the table or in her hands, tears moistening her face, dampening her eyes.
But Jessica appeared relieved. She was lifting shreds of lettuce to her mouth and digesting desserts off the cheap, plastic restaurant plaque with her eyesbrownies with hot fudge and vanilla ice cream, cherry cheesecake, boysenberry pie. Leslie knew them all by heart. The offending salad lay, untouched, across from Jessica.
She was pretty, Leslie realized. Even with the thinning ponytail and baggy sweatshirt, she made a striking figureexotic, like a Russian ballet dancer. Leslie thought about going back into the restaurant to apologize, but shoved the impulse down, where it mingled uncomfortably with jealousy and shame, anger and resentment. Maybe she would call Jessica tomorrow.
Leslie felt her stomach gurgle. She wished she had the remaining half of her cheeseburger. She was still hungry.
Lunch
by J D Kell
by J D Kell
Chapter One
Is that all you're having? Leslie asked after Jessica ordered a dinner salad: no cheese, no croutons, no dressing and a Diet Coke.
Im not really that hungry. Jessica looked down at the napkin on her lap. I had a huge breakfast.
Great, Leslie thought, youre half-starved, already.
The waitress shifted her weight from one sandaled foot to the other, impatient. Leslie saw toenails painted purple, the polish fading and chipped. Well, I guess Im the only one whos eating, so I'll try to eat enough for both of us.
The waitress did not crack a smile.
I'll have the Bacon Cheeseburger with the seasoned fries, Leslie said.
To drink? The waitress stared at the fat on Leslies arms.
A Diet Coke. I'm trying to watch my figure. Leslie gave a self-deprecating laugh, felt her face grow warm.
The waitress nodded, tucked her pad into her apron and finally smiled. Leslie watched her stop at a booth near the kitchen to flirt with two college guys, streaks of blonde staining their light brown hair. She turned her attention back to Jessica. So, I havent seen you inwhat? Ages, or two semesters, at least. What have you been doing with yourself?
Besides not eating? thought Leslie.
Leslie studied her friend. Jessica had taken the napkin from her lap and was now twisting a corner into shreds. Bits of white paper floated like ash onto the red table cloth. She appeared malnourished, diluted, empty. Her once plump face had retreated into her skull. The skin stretched tight against it. Her dark brown hair, so thick and unruly 10 months ago, seemed to have thinned right along with the rest of her. It hung limp and lifeless in a tight ponytail. The UCLA sweatshirt engulfed her like a blanket, seemed out of place in the Arizona summer heat.
Oh, not much, I guess. Glad that school is out. Jessica gave a half-smile that failed to reach her eyes. Leslie noticed dark circles underneath.
Yeah, Ill bet. Me, too. You're lucky, though. You get to go out of state. How's LA? Do you like it? You must. You didn't come home for the holidays, and I guess you were too busy to answer my emails. Leslie gave her friend a reproachful look. She couldnt help it. A whole year and only two emails.
She and Jessica were best friends, or at least had been. They had grown up across the street from each other, did everything together: read the same books, liked the same music, and shared crushes on boys. Over the years, they'd eaten hundreds of meals with each other and traded tons of clothesextra largeuntil now. Now, Leslie was fat, and Jessica was thin.
If we were still in high school, Leslie thought, I'd probably be eating lunch alone, because nobody really likes to be seen with the fat, unpopular girlunless they are fat and unpopular, too.
Yeah, I guess. Jessica had stopped playing with her napkin and was now examining a photo on the dessert plaque: two giant brownies piled high with vanilla ice cream and hot fudge, whipped cream and chocolate shavings.
Yeah, I guess what? Guess that you like it, or guess that you didnt have time to answer my emails? For Cramminy sake she noticed that Jessica was still looking at the dessert menu. Leslie tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice. Do you want to split a dessert?
No, I was just looking, Jessica set the dessert plaque back on the table. Im sorry I didnt email you. Things were just I dont know Different. Nodifficult. They were difficult, with classes and all. Overwhelming, actually."
Well, you sure look good. What did you do? Stop eating? The words came out sarcastic and cruel. Leslie tried to smooth the jealousy and resentment, unsightly wrinkles, out of her voice. Aren't you boiling in that sweatshirt? I mean, flaunt it if you got it, right? I know I would.
Jessica shrugged. I get cold in the air conditioner. And who'd want to look at this, anyway?
She gestured to her body and stuck out her tongue.
Please, tell me you're joking. Now, me, on the other hand, Leslie held her hands away from her hips, freshman fifteen, baby! And I didnt have to leave home to get them.
Leslie felt uncomfortable. Isnt this the type of thing they'd made fun of in high school? The cheerleaders exclaiming over non-existent thighs in the bathroom mirror, Ohhhhh I am soooo fat!
The waitress returned with their drinks and told them their order would be out shortly. Jessica looked expectantly towards the kitchen. Leslie found herself staring in the same direction, waiting for her cheeseburger to arrive, so she could eat, make her excuses and leave the hollowed out stranger sitting across from her.
The waitress returned and put their food on the table. Leslie started to pour ketchup on her fries, when she noticed Jessica staring at her salad with a taut expression. Whats wrong? They couldnt have screwed up your order. You didnt order anything.
I cant eat this. Jessica picked a small piece of shredded cheddar from her salad and held it up for Leslie to see. She looked on the verge of screaming or tears. Leslie couldnt tell which.
OK, so pick it out. Thats what theyre going to do, if you send it back. Its no big deal, really. Leslie rolled her eyes.
No, I cant eat this, Jessica pushed the plate of salad away from her and watched Leslie take a bite of her cheeseburger.
Well, send it back, then. Eat something, for goodness sake. Thats why were here, isnt it? To eat.
Jessica sunk down into the black, vinyl booth. Her teeth clenched, and she crossed her arms and hugged her sides until she resembled someone in a straitjacket. She looked panicked, like she expected Leslie to jump across the table and force feed her the saladcheese and all.
Sorry. Look, we'll send it back. They'll make you a new salad, and everyone will be happy, OK? Leslie patted her friends hand. OK?
Jessicas eyes glistened. She dabbed at them with the remnant of her napkin and nodded like an obedient child. All right. Thanks.
Uncrossing her arms, she sat up in the booth.
Leslie motioned for the waitress. Lookthere's a piece of cheese on this salad. Could we get another one?
But the cheese is off the salad now. It's on the plate. The waitress put her hands on her hips and appeared annoyed.
"Yes, I know, but we," Leslie tilted her head towards Jessica, "need a new salad."
Jessica, her face the same shade as the table cloth, shrunk back down into the booth.
The waitress sighed and started to remove the salad. Jessica touched her arm and she stopped, clearly exasperated, as Jessica asked hesitantly, Uhm Would it be possible for you to leave that one here? I won't eat it. I just want to be sure you dont bring me the same salad twice.
The waitress stared at Jessica, searching the baggy sweatshirt for signs of aluminum foil hidden within to block alien transmissions.
I may be fat, but at least I'm not a nut case, Leslie thought.
If that's what you want. The waitress sighed, louder this time, and headed back to the kitchen. On her way, she stopped to say something to the two guys in the booth, which made them laugh and sneak glances at Leslie and Jessica's table while the waitress shook her head.
Leslie took a bite of her cheeseburger and tried not to notice their amusement, stuffing her annoyance down into her gut. The meat was cooked just right, a little pink in the middle. The juice ran down her chin, and she wiped it away with her napkin. Jessica watched her intently.
Do you want a bite? Leslie asked.
No. It just looks good.
It is good. Leslie smacked her lips and dipped a fry in ketchup. I'd offer you some, but it might make you fat.
The waitress returned with the salad: lonely leaves of Romaine, naked and vulnerable on a white porcelain plate that clanked the table when she set it down. Jessica thanked her, but the waitress ignored her.
Leslie watched her friend methodically cut each leaf into shreds of green confetti, then carefully lift a speck to her mouth and chew it slowly. As she watched the uniform rise and fall of Jessicas jaw, Leslie began to count: 1,2,3,4 .....19, 20, swallow. Leslies anger grew. Are you going to chew every bite twenty times? Because I really don't want to sit here all day.
You counted how many times I chewed my food? Jessica gaped at Leslie.
Don't look at me that way. It's a little odd, don't you think? She imitated her friend, Oh, do you mind, I can't eat this. I already picked the cheese out, but I still need a brand new one. Ohand, by the way, can you leave the salad here, because I want to make sure that you don't just bring me the old one. Because if you did, I probably couldn't tell the frigging difference!
Jessica seemed to shrink deep inside herself. Sorry. Look if you want the salad that I'm not eating...
Her voice quivered and then trailed off. Leslie threw her cheeseburger onto the plate. It landed in a pile of ketchup, which splattered onto the front of her blouse.
You, actually think, this is about me wanting to eat more food? You would think that. Why should I be so surprised? You think that I want to eat your stupid salad! Leslie's voice was rising. The guys sitting in the booth by the kitchen stared. She glared at them. We've been best friends our whole lives. Then, you decide to go away to college. And you stop responding to my emails, stop returning my calls. Blow me off like I'm some chick you hardly know, don't want to know! Whatwere you too busy learning not to eat to remember that I wanted to hear from you, to talk to you? And then, you don't even tell me you're backmy mom tells me."
Leslie shook her head. "I don't know why I even asked you to lunch.
Jessica stared at her salad. Leslie continued, It's like your personality disappeared along with the rest of you.
She looked across the tabledaring Jessica to say something, to do something. Jessica kept her eyes on her plate, her shoulders hunched, her jaw set, her face expressionless.
The waitress reappeared. Everything all right?
Yes, fine. Leslie said tightly. Jessica didn't look up. The waitress put their check on the table and made a hasty retreat.
Leslie looked down at her cheeseburger. She had taken only a few bites, yet there was barely half left.
OK, you really are a pig, she thought, disgusted. The waitress was now leaning against the booth where the guys Leslie had glared at just a moment ago were seated. All three of them were looking her way. Leslie felt like an irate mother loudly chastising a cowering child down an aisle in a crowded supermarket. She was embarrassed. Embarrassed to be making a scene. Embarrassed to be the fat woman who downed a cheeseburger while her super skinny friend ate threads of lettuce off a salad plate.
You know what. Just forget it. Lunch is on me. Leslie grabbed the check and slid out of the booth. Enjoy your salad.
The trio next to the kitchen watched Leslie walk to the register. She kept her eyes fixed on the red and black circles covering the carpet like intersecting hoola hoops. When she handed her check to the smiling woman behind the register, Leslie realized the waitress had charged her for both salads.
Go figure, she thought, but paid anyway.
Outside the restaurant, she examined her reflection in the plate glass window. Her blonde hair was short. Too short. It barely covered her ears. Her mother said it brought out her blue eyes, but all Leslie saw was a double chin. Her blue blousethe nicest thing she ownedwas too tight. The material strained at her armpits, and she felt it digging into her back whenever she moved. Her pants had wedged their way up her butt crack, again. She bought them thinking their black color would be slimming. Now she walked around with a permanent wedgie and a roll of fat peeking over an elastic waistband.
Leslie cupped her hands around her eyes and placed them on the window, searching for Jessica. She found her estranged friend still hunched over her barren salad at the table. Leslie had hoped, even expected, to see Jessica upset: her head on the table or in her hands, tears moistening her face, dampening her eyes.
But Jessica appeared relieved. She was lifting shreds of lettuce to her mouth and digesting desserts off the cheap, plastic restaurant plaque with her eyesbrownies with hot fudge and vanilla ice cream, cherry cheesecake, boysenberry pie. Leslie knew them all by heart. The offending salad lay, untouched, across from Jessica.
She was pretty, Leslie realized. Even with the thinning ponytail and baggy sweatshirt, she made a striking figureexotic, like a Russian ballet dancer. Leslie thought about going back into the restaurant to apologize, but shoved the impulse down, where it mingled uncomfortably with jealousy and shame, anger and resentment. Maybe she would call Jessica tomorrow.
Leslie felt her stomach gurgle. She wished she had the remaining half of her cheeseburger. She was still hungry.
