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“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying your body and good experiences. There’s nothing wrong with sharing it with who you choose. It sounds like those other assholes have the problem, not you.” Once, I might have wished to have her problems instead of mine. The whole world seemed much easier to navigate if I was thin, if I was beautiful. Only, I was starting to make peace with my demons. I wouldn’t want to have to start all over.
“My last long term lover said I was a sex addict.” She shrugged.
“There are worse things to be addicted to.” Rosa took her hand. “I think we’re all a little fucked up one way or another. Fuck them and their labels. We don’t need them. Just like Claire did with Chubbalicious, we define ourselves.”
“Yeah, I like that, Rosa.”
“The sun has to shine on a dog’s ass some time, right?” Rosa winked at me and I nudged her shoulder lightly with a grin.
“So what are you wearing to Mr. Bowman’s graduation?” Bex changed the subject.
Pain still lingered behind her eyes, but I wasn’t going to push her for more details. I was sure that in time, they’d come. I hope she knew I was there to talk if she needed me. I just went with the flow of conversation then.
“I have no idea.”
“What about that cute dress that looked like a mechanic’s shirt?” Rosa asked.
“That’s probably too casual.”
“Would you kill me if I say the cherries?”
I’d been wearing that dress the night we went on the boat tour, the night that things changed between us. “No, I wouldn’t kill you, but Brant might have some other memories with that dress.”
My face flamed.
“Oh really?” Rosa laughed. “Well, I think it’s the woman in the dress that he has the memories with. He didn’t make out with the dress.”
“That’s true. What about the lavender one with the yellow flowers?”
“I thought you weren’t dressing to impress?” Bex teased me.
“Well, I’m a fashion entrepreneur, right? I should look the part.” What was I doing? Maybe I should just stay home. I wasn’t ready to leap back in to anything and neither was he.
“Eat your breakfast.” Bex pushed a plate at me.
Under old circumstances, I wouldn’t have eaten. As if that would suddenly make me skinny. The oldest habits were the hardest to break. I recited a familiar litany.
It’s okay to nourish your body. It’s okay to eat. It’s okay to enjoy your food.
Only this time, I believed it—I knew it to be true.
I ate the waffle, and I didn’t feel guilty or ashamed.
18
I kept checking the orders that had come through Chubbalicious, just to make sure.
This was really my life.
Success shouldn’t have tasted so strange, but it did.
Brant’s graduation ceremony was at two so I had plenty of time to psych myself out, but I was determined not to.
This was the new me.
And it was just Brant. Just my friend.
Just the man who once wanted to be my lover, who’d started me on this journey.
As I put on the matching lavender lace bra and panty set, I looked in the mirror. I used to avoid them, but I was determined to look at myself and find something to like about what I saw.
There were stretch marks. Rolls. My belly hung down like a pouch. My body looked like I’d had children, but I hadn’t. My hips were rounded, my breasts were full. I wasn’t going to let myself choose my breasts as the thing to like, that was the easiest choice. Good breasts were good breasts, it wasn’t hard to like breasts.
What was hard to like were the stretch marks, the angry red slashes down my belly. The dimpling on my thighs. The apron of fat of my abdomen.
I pushed my hands down my belly to my thighs. I forced myself to look at it. I liked the contrast of the lavender lace against my pale skin, but that was easy to like too.
No, I was determined to like something unlikable.
My belly. I would find something that made it worthwhile.
I turned this way and that, forcing that reel of negative talk and insults in my head to be quiet. I rubbed it up and down, like a smooth marble Buddha statue. There was a time when only rich women had a body like this, a time when men made statues to honor this kind of shape.
Even though that time wasn’t now, I would find a way to honor it myself.
I realized how soft my skin was, like silk. It was substantial, but supple. I wrapped my arms around my middle and there was something nurturing about not just my curves, but even my girth, my width. It was warm. It was safe. It was where I’d offered nurturing to those I loved. It was part and parcel of me.
You are lovable. I looked in the mirror and for the first time, I didn’t want to break it so I didn’t have to see myself. It was okay to be me. It was okay to be in this body. You are beautiful.
