Living Life in the Fat Lane

Chapter 6: Summer Lovin'

I just love casual Fridays. I get to wear more comfortable clothes that don’t draw too much attention to my misplaced curves. I wish I could pull off the corporate look, the way emaciated models can – wearing a sleek pencil skirt, a tailored edgy blazer, protruding cheek bones, and a look of boredom and apathy that they have mastered. The corporate look just isn’t for plus size divas like me. More often than not, regular pantsuit sizes only go as big as size 16, and even when you happen to find yourself at the department store’s plus size section, the only things available are clothes suitable for more mature customers. I don’t know why some people automatically assume that if you’re big, you must be ancient.

The plus size formal section, although it has vastly improved over the years, is still filled with poorly designed clothes that cater to more mature shoppers; sequined ninang ternos and pleated lola slacks. So unless you’re a seventy-year old wedding sponsor or retired librarian, you wouldn’t be interested in some of the things they have to offer. 

As I get ready for a good stretch and what I hope will be a satisfying yawn, Jason walks past my desk, wearing a white polo shirt and a pair of flattering faded jeans that highlight his rear area. I immediately shut my mouth, suppressing the yawn, thus rendering me even more aesthetically displeasing. Jason stops, turns to me and smiles.

“Long day, huh?” he says.

“Uhuh,” I say, wondering why words always elude me every time Jason is around.

“Well, have a great weekend, Kaitlin,” he says, giving me yet another smile and a wink.  I manage to say nothing.

            Friday is the most wonderful day of the week. Not only is it the last working day for most people, it is also a day of countless possibilities: meeting new people, trying new restaurants, watching the latest movies. There are myriad reasons why people go out on a Friday night. Tonight is a night for celebration because my friend Christine and her family were granted U.S. visas earlier today. That can only mean one thing – free food and drinks!

Summer’s picking me up at six. She promised she’ll be here on time, something I’ve heard many times before but have yet to witness. She doesn’t wear a watch because she finds it too heavy. Besides having small wrists (the size of a five-year-old’s) that couldn’t possibly bear the weight of a heavy metallic object, Summer considers watches a symbol of imprisonment. She spends her days without limits. This means that while she can start her day at five in the afternoon and continue on until the wee hours of the next morning, to her it’s still the same day. She lives in her own time zone, which is why I am willing to bet my brother’s money that she won’t be here at six.

My brother would be on welfare now if I actually bet all his money. It is ten to six and a woman resembling Summer is walking towards me. I gasp in disbelief. Same height, same build; the same flirty sway of the hips as Summer’s. She’s early? Maybe the Body Snatchers are here and have slowly taken over the world. This can’t be right. How did she even know the time?

As she gets close enough for my eyes to make out the Aztec details of her dress, I notice something metallic around her left wrist. I gasp once again, this time remembering to cover my mouth with my free hand. She’s wearing a watch! Don’t I know my friends anymore? Something has happened. Something I have yet to know about.

Our right cheeks touch as we give each other a double pat on the back, and in my best Ricky Ricardo impression I say, “Summer, you got some es-playnin’ to do.” She smiles and tells me, “All in good time, my friend, all in good time.”

We walk through the restaurant door at exactly six-thirty. The place is almost empty except for a couple of extremely handsome men who are probably waiting for their equally gorgeous dates. Summer picks the farthest table from the main door. I follow her as a dog would his master, virtually drooling over the potential juicy story she’s about to tell. This is torture. What’s with the watch? I’ve known her for fifteen years! Not once have I ever seen her wearing one. And it looks very expensive indeed. I see diamonds instead of the typical Roman numerals, and more diamonds around the exterior. What is this?