The Food Critic
by chrissy
by chrissy
Since joining the masthead of a major newspaper in my mid 30s, I had been thinking about how to stir up some of the staffing and sections to appeal to a broader audience. It was a huge job -- you all know the state of disrepair the papers are in these days. I reorganized sections, placed a dedicated section to lifestyle news and travel, and food criticism -- one of the few reasons people still go out these days was our booming gourmand industry -- got its own column.
I hesitated about two top two choices the editorical team presented me with to head up the food column. There was Ted O'Brien, the consummate critic and sommelier who had the background, but I felt his writing was a bit dry. Then we had an internal option in Marlene Dougall, who had previously worked for us in lifestyle. There were two things leaning me towards Marlene, and one I wouldn't admit. One was that she was the younger up-and-comer. There's something to be said for someone working hard and wanting it, experience be damned. The other reason reason was, well, Marlene was sinfully pretty, and I didn't mind the idea of her possibly picking up a few pounds on the job. She had the face of a doll with a button nose and almost-black curls swinging down just to her shoulders. She was slim and tall, at maybe 5 11 and 140 pounds, and her enthusiam was contagious. I felt she could take all that the job had to offer. So I offered it.
Marlene sat in the office not entirely sure what to expect.
"Hi, well I know there was a typo in the last column and it won't happen again and --" I cut her off and her hands fell to her lap, business slacks and blouse sort of draped over her.
"No, no, silly, no none cares about those unavoidable mistakes. I want to know if you like food."
"Hmm... Yeah, I'd say I'm a foodie," Marlene responded.
"And do you want to write about food?"
"What? Hell yes I do."
"Okay, this could work out then. Here's the job description and here's your first assignment. You understand we want to be aggressive with our reviews?"
"Um, what do you mean?"
"I mean we're looking for five reviews a week. A mix of brunch, dinner, maybe the odd breakfast to throw them a curve ball."
"Yeah, I mean why not?"
I leaned back in my chair. "I'm just saying, it's most likely not a big deal, but if it were me doing that work for a couple of years I think I would possibly gain some weight. You're not concerned about that?"
Marlene was taken aback and thought about it. "Um... no, I mean I don't think so. I hope not. It's a great position and I hope I can fill it."
I smiled internally at her unintended double-entendre.
"Okay, well the first one is the Leopard this Saturday. It goes from there. Five reviews a week. Our audience is hungry for a critic not unlike yourself, I think."
Marlene nodded.
---
The first few weeks were indeed nigh unnoticeable for her. Her reviews were a hit, and restaurants -- well, the good ones, anyway -- were clamouring to serve Marlene. Three to four months in, and things started to get interesting. Just outside the office, I overheard Marlene and her colleague Andrea doing some small talk in the corridor.
"Soooo, how's the food critic stuff working out so far?" Andrea asked. She was in marketing.
"Ah, it's pretty great. People love the columns, I love writing them. I can't deny it's pretty sweet to get all that free food. But I'm feeling a little more swollen thesse days, haha."
"Ah, whatever, it happens to everyone. You're what, late 20s?"
"Uhuh."
"Yeah, you look great. Who cares, honestly? Just be healthy. Be you." Andrea, herself, had become a bit of a chubby office worker in the three years I had seen her around, so I don't know if it was the best advice, but it worked for me.
"Fair enough." They parted ways and I promptly returned to my work, pretending I has heard nothing.
---
My plan was to ask if I could joing Marlene on a dinner critic expedition, in a professional capacity, once she had significantly gained weight. It took a while. The first real sense I got of her progress was at our Christmas party (as you do), about eight months after her tenure began.
In fact, it was hard to believe either Andrea or Marlene were single, but this seemed to be the case. They sat together at one of the tables and I recall glancing over from the editors' table as Marlene got up to peruse the washroom. She had on an all black sleeveless affair and, to my surprise and delight, she had actually grown some very delicious looking, tanned arms, and a noticeable belly complemented by her C cup breasts. I wanted very badly to strike up some conversation, but there was little way to do so without looking terribly out of line. So I viewed from afar.
---
By February, Marlene requested a meeting with me. I thought nothing of it until she actually presented the problem.
"To be honest, I never thought I'd say this, but I don't know if I can be the food critic anymore."
"Why?"
"Well, I mean, do you see me?" Marlene stood up in jeans and a t-shirt (casual Friday). Whether intentional or not, her belly peeked out from under her now-too-short tshirt -- just a slice of honeyed pudge. I got hard but did my utmost not to show any difference as I remained in my chair.
"Yeah, I... I see that."
"I've put on 45 pounds this year. I have no idea how that happened."
I sighed. I wanted to make a sexy comment so badly, but I knew far better. Or did I? I intentionally planned this. I could have given it to Ted. But Marlene really did want the job.
"Okay, well maybe we could get a second critic? But people love your stuff, Marlene. They love it. And I love giving it to them."
"But I'm fat." To be honest, she really wasn't. But as I was learning, Marlene was very good at holding her curves.
"Well if we're talking about opinions, I'd say you were very skinny before and now you're almost average." This wasn't quite true either -- Marlene's stomach was a beautifully convex, slight-more-than-average sight with an array of curves and bumps and a noticeable navel indent on her tshirt -- but this was the narrative.
Marlene simply scoffed, in a gently agreeing way.
"I thought so. You know we have gym memberships for everyone here too. It's barely my place to make any kind of comment like that, except as it relates to your job. So I take it we're ok for now, overall?"
Marlene sighed. "Yeah, we're ok."
"Maybe more than ok."
"Don't push it."
"Fair enough." She left, and as she left I saw her now-packed size 10 jeans remit two budding love handles atop her not-quite-fitting shirt, and once again I fought to repress my sexual urges.
This was quickly getting dangerous.
