Big is Beautiful (5 page)

"Aggravating." She smiled and tapped the steering wheel to the Christian music blasting through the radio.

I was nothing if not nice, so I decided to throw my mom a bone and tell her everything. "That
cutie,
as you so weirdly called him, was Matt Taylor."

"Quarterback Matt Taylor?"

"One and the same."

"And he's your tutor?" As if football players couldn't tutor…

"That he is."

She got quiet for a second and a strange
hmmm
sound came from her lips.

I couldn't take the quiet. "He's really nice."

"Is he now?" She looked at me and kept on driving. I had to yell at her before she ran over some poor lady's mailbox.

"Yes, he's nice, and smart and funny and all of those other clichés girls swoon over."

"You swooning?"

I nearly choked on my tongue. "Seriously? Me? I'm not a swooner."

"You seem like you're swooning."

"I'm not." Was I? "Besides, I'm not his type."

My mom stopped at the red light at the top of a little hill. "Why not?"

It was my turn to stare at her. My mom wasn't dumb. She knew the ways of the world. In her day, she had been a knockout, not that she was too shabby now. For all intents and purposes, I looked a lot like her. We had the same dark hair and round face, only mine was the supersized version. Twenty years ago, my mom had been Miss Carter County when she was in high school. Cheerleader. Popular. And I was told, not by her, that she had been a guy magnet.

The thing about my mom was that she never made me feel bad for not being that person. Sure, I saw it in her eyes sometimes when we watched pageants on TV. Her beauty queen dreams faded for me when she entered me in the Little Miss Carter County pageant when I was three. Apparently, I embarrassed her terribly, though I can't remember how, and she won't talk about it. I did know I had come in twelfth out of twelve. Kendra Moses probably didn't even know where the crown she'd won was now.

Except for the rare occasion, my mom accepted me for who I was and for being on the bigger side of life. I loved her for it.

"Why not? Because I'm me and he's him."

"Oh, of course. Well, it could never work." The light turned green, and she pulled out onto the road leading to our house.

"I'm serious."

"Me too."

Reverse psychology. Awesome.

"Brittany, have you ever heard the saying, 'The man who says he can and the man who says he can't are both right'?"

"You been reading self-help books again?"

"Nope, someone posted it on the Internet."

I sighed, knowing exactly where this was headed. Looking down, the big hole in my coat caught my eye. Not wanting her to see that I'd destroyed something she'd spent so much money on, I shifted to the side and eased my backpack back up to my lap. Later, I'd have to figure out what to do about my coat. Did they even have tailors anymore?

"Do you get what I'm saying?" My mom changed the song to one about being courageous.

"I get it." I didn't want it, but I got it. "You're saying if I think I'm a loser, then I'm a loser."

"You get the general idea, Brittany. Don't put yourself down."

Interesting. I'd heard that twice today.

"I don't. Not really." Did I? If I did, I needed to change it or change myself. I wouldn't call myself fat if I wasn't fat. Another check in the 'Brittany needs to lose weight before summer' box.

"I don't want you to hold yourself back because of your weight."

"I think my weight does enough holding me back as it is."

Mom flicked her long, straight hair over her shoulder. "That guy didn't seem to think so."

My attention was definitely piqued. "He was just being nice."

"Nice or not. He didn't seem bothered by your weight."

No, he didn't. He hadn't from the moment he saw me. I felt my scraped up knuckles. Caleb had definitely been bothered by it. Bothered enough to push me out of the way.

"Can we not talk about him anymore? Please. I'm surprised you haven't been more interested in what I learned, you know, instead of who taught it to me."

"You're right." She smiled. "What did you learn?"

"I learned about the Pythagorean Theory." I was pretty proud about it.

"You mean the Pythagorean Theorem?" She chuckled, and I felt deflated. Had I learned it if I couldn't say it?

****

Later that night, I kissed my mom at around eight and headed upstairs to my room to start on my homework. I did have other classes besides Geometry after all.

I pulled out my English book and laid it on my desk next to my laptop. Opening my computer, I searched for five Twentieth Century poets for a class report. More than likely it would turn into the most boring report known to man.

Not being able to concentrate, I gave up, visited my social sites for a while, and found something interesting. It was a site on different diets with before and after pictures. The before pictures all looked like me (some even smaller). The afters resembled Kendra Moses. Losing myself in the pictures, I flipped through each one until I had my mind made up. To be healthy — okay, and hot — I needed to lose weight. Only four months would be way too long of time and twenty pounds was not enough. Twenty-five by the end of April would do it.

How? I didn't want to get a disorder. I only wanted to get smaller quickly. After I wrote down a basic plan, I bookmarked my new favorite site. I shut down my computer, brushed my teeth in the bathroom, put on my pjs, and hopped into bed. After I set my alarm clock for six, I settled in under my covers.

It had been an interesting day. I started out so aggravated that I had to go to tutoring. Now, I was pretty glad to have it. Not only had I learned something, but Matt Taylor had actually been nice to me. To Big. A banner day indeed!

God, thank you for taking care of me today. I know I wouldn't have made it through without You. But Matt Taylor? Seriously? Are you trying to tempt me? To see how I'd react?

I'm just… I'm tired of being Big. I don't want to
be like this anymore. For once, I'd like to be the little people in the picture. The after photos. If you could help me with that, you know,
without
making me deathly ill or having to throw up, I'd appreciate it. In Jesus's name I pray, Amen.

I rolled over a few times, unable to get comfortable, and finally settled on staring at the ceiling.

I knew a few things for certain: if I wasn't Big, Kendra wouldn't have anything to make fun of me for. If I didn't block doors, Caleb wouldn't have any reason to push me. If I were skinny, Matt Taylor might want to be more than acquaintances… more than friends.

If I were skinny, my life would be so different.

Chapter Five

I woke up the next morning to a growling stomach but a new determination. After I took a few seconds to stretch my stiff muscles, I went to my laptop and pulled up the weight loss website I'd signed up for the night before. At the top was a tab for weight loss goals and how much exercise/calories it would take to get there. I typed in my far-reaching goal and sat back in my chair, waiting. The plan it popped up with shocked me at first. It would take nearly two months to lose just ten pounds.

Not acceptable. I needed to lose twenty-five in about the same time frame.

Messing with the guided plans didn't result in the weight loss I wanted, so I went to custom. If I only ate nine hundred calories a day, I could lose almost three pounds a week. That would let me lose the twenty pounds in almost seven weeks, an acceptable time frame. Three three-hundred calorie meals a day wouldn't be bad. Why hadn't I tried this before?

I shut the laptop, trying my best to ignore the note in red at the bottom: WARNING, A HEALTHY DIET CONSISTS OF AT LEAST TWELVE HUNDRED CALORIES A DAY.

Eating only nine hundred calories would make me lose weight, which in turn would make me more healthy, right? I was sure the large, red warning wasn't for me. Or so I told myself anyway.

I had a feeling this would be one of the hardest things I'd ever tried. And even more so because I didn't want to tell my mom. Sure, she'd be excited for me to be little like her, but I didn't think she would approve of my timeline or the way I planned on doing it. To that end, she didn't have to know. If she asked, I'd tell her lots of exercise. It wouldn't be a total lie. A few years ago, I'd gotten one of those dance games for my game console. I could shake my bottom an hour every night and lose more inches.

A plan, I had. A great plan. Maybe not the healthiest plan, but a plan nonetheless.

Noticing how close I was to being late for school, I ran to the bathroom and brushed my teeth and hair. Judging by the fogged over bathroom window, it appeared to be in the twenties outside, so I decided to leave my hair down so my ears could stay warm. Plus, I wouldn't have to count my chins (a bonus). I didn't have time to straighten my hair though, so it hung around my shoulders in a wavy mess.

For the first time in forever, I put on a little make up. Nothing major. A little pink eye shadow, brown mascara, and a shade of lip gloss which gave my lips a hint of extra color. Looking in the mirror, I felt a bit stupid, so I wiped the lip gloss off and put on my normal chap stick. There, not too terrible.

With time running out before I missed my bus, I ran to my room and grabbed a pair of jeans just big enough they didn't make a muffin top and a long-sleeved black shirt. Black slimmed even the biggest figure, of course.

I took half a second to look in the mirror.

Decent.

I went to grab my new white coat from my computer chair when it hit me: I couldn't wear it. Not only did it have a big stain and hole from the marker board, but did I truly want to look like a movie marshmallow man or cartoon tire guy? Did I tell my mom about it so she could fix it, or did I let Kendra's words keep me from it?

"Brittany! Time to go! Bus is coming." Mom yelled from downstairs.

She made my decision for me. No time to dwell on the coat. I grabbed my old black one from the closet, my backpack from under my desk, and ran down the steps. In the kitchen, I kissed my mama on the cheek and grabbed a piece of toast from the tray she held out for me. Toast couldn't be too many calories.

"Wait." She yelled when I'd gotten almost to the door. I had been so close. "Where's your new coat?"

So, so close.

"Um. It's in my room. It has a… stain."

I turned in time to see her eyes narrow in that way moms' eyes do when they are aggravated. She plopped the plate of toast and bacon on the table and crossed her arms very firmly. Her nostrils flared like a dragon's as she leaned on one leg while tapping her fingers on her arm. "I just paid that coat off on Saturday."

"I know—"

"And I've been paying on it for four months. Four."

The more she talked, the guiltier I felt. Not that I tore it (not my fault) but that she had worked so hard for it, and I'd let Kendra make me not love it any more. "I'm sorry. I'll be more careful with this one." I pulled out the bottom of my black fleece one.

My mom took a deep breath and shut her eyes. "Brittany Isabelle Gregory…"

Time for a lecture.

"I know how much you loved that coat."

-ED
being the operative suffix.

"How could you be so careless with it?"

I took my own deep breath. The semi-truth and consequences trumped the truth and Kendra. "I'm sorry. I was walking out of Geometry and ran into the marker board. It put a big stain on it."

"A dry erase marker stain?"

I nodded.

She seemed to relax a bit. "Okay. That's okay. Doable. I think I can get it cleaned at the dry cleaner and you can wear it again."

I so didn't want it back. "And the hole."

Her shoulders tensed back up. "Hole?"

"The marker tray grabbed it and made a hole at the bottom." It surprised me she hadn't noticed it on the drive home, but she had been too interested in my time with Matt to notice.

"Brittany." She groaned.

I'm sure there were more things she wanted to say. Some would be yelled. Fortunately for both of us, I saw the bus coming around the corner. "Gotta go. Bus is here. We'll talk about it after school, okay?"

I walked out without waiting for an answer. "Wait!"

Caught again. This time, I stopped outside at the third step which was also the last step.

"What about breakfast? Grab some bacon to eat on the way."

Doubtful a handful of bacon and toast would be less than three hundred calories. "Bus is here. Sorry. Gotta go." I threw the toast in my mouth and headed down the sidewalk, careful not to slip on the frost.

I slid to the end of the walkway just as the bus pulled up. I got on and sat down in the fourth seat from the back, my usual spot. With a few bites, I finished the toast and mentally added three hundred to the tally for the day. I didn't think a small piece of toast had that many calories, but better safe than sorry.

Freezing, I sunk down in the seat, pulled my coat tighter, and huddled inside it. February chilled my bones. My oh so warm, plus-sized white coat taunted me from home.

All around me, I heard chatter about the Easton High Valentine's Dance, a.k.a. the Red Ball. It was lame really. Sort of a mini prom without the limos. All grades could go. Tickets were twenty-five dollars. Everyone wore some shade of red and brought a date. I didn't have a date, and wearing red made me look like some sort of mutated tomato.

The dance was Saturday, and I knew by the next Monday girls would still be glowing from their 'magical' night… some of the guys too, but for much different reasons. I'd get to hear how 'amazing' the music sounded, how beautiful the decorations hung from the ceiling, how romantic it all turned out, and who got voted Red Queen.

Red Queen was a big deal, not as big as Prom Queen or Homecoming Queen, but a little higher in the ranks than Football Queen. The student body voted on the winner at the dance. Red King was also voted on, but it wasn't nearly as coveted. Both the Red King and Queen got a crown, sash, fifty-dollar gift certificate, and the 'perfect' dance as the 'perfect' couple. I got all of that from the gaudy red flyers littering the school since Winter Break ended.