The Lighter Side of Large (47 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“Because for a truly happy ending, you must realize that the only person who can rescue you is yourself.”

FROM BELLA’S BLOG
http://www.thelightersideoflarge.com/ch27

I sit at my desk, tears streaming down my cheeks as I read the comments to my latest blog post:

KC: I was so inspired by your writings but now I feel disgusted. You’re just another wannabe celebrity trying to make money off people’s issues. I hope your newspaper column gets cancelled.

Taxed2Death: I heard ur a welfare mum. ur probably using taxpayer money to fund ur plastic surgery. Way to go, liberal government! Give money to those who don’t use it correctly but let education reform go underfunded. I’m moving to Fiji.

Frankie: So how much did AmandaE pay you to make up the discrimination story? Or do you just get a lifetime supply of free clothing from them? Pretty brave of them to launch a negative marketing campaign. I suppose that will become the latest trend in advertising.

Big Ron: Notice how skinny people don’t cry “Discrimination”? But I bet once you get skinny after your plastic surgery, you’ll find something to whine about. I’m overweight and happy. Why can’t you be?

GT: You ugly fat b****

Deedee: Gab Gazette is not known for its journalistic integrity so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. I think it will help your cause if you address the issues the article accuses you of.

Serena: I’m unsubscribing from your blog. If I want to read fiction, I can go to the library and check out a book.

PontifiKate: That’s all this world needs is another FRAUD. I hope you die from anorexia.

RandyAndy: I’ll give you plastic surgery. I got a knife and a vacuum.

MrX: At least no-one will recognise you on the street once you get all that plastic surgery done. Now you just have to change your screen identity and presto! You have a new life. You’re going to need one after fooling so many people. You really had a great message until we found out that you don’t believe what you say.

WW: I was so excited when I found your blog and then you started writing for the newspaper. Finally, we fat people have a voice, I thought. I’ve been through many of the same experiences you’ve related, from squashing people on public transportation to knocking into tables at restaurants to being unable to find clothing which fits, even at plus-size shops. I haven’t flown in years because I can’t afford to buy two seats to accommodate my wide girth and I generally avoid going out in public (I work from home) because it’s just too hard to put up with the stares and insults. I grocery shop late at night at 24-hour stores with the rest of the freaks and I often sew my own clothes because it’s so hard to find stuff even online which fits and is fashionable. But when I read the article in the Gab, I cried. I thought you were one of us. I really did. I thought of you as a friend even though we never met or chatted online. Guess I was wrong.

Tyson: Hope your plastic surgery goes wrong and you end up looking like Mick Jagger.

I quit reading after the dozenth one, typing quickly to erase the hateful comments and disable any more from being posted. It’s been this way all week, ever since the
Gab Gazette
hit newsstands.

I log off my blog and log onto my email. I’m stunned to see over one hundred new emails in my box. “No, no, oh no,” I wail. I click on the oldest new email. It’s from a nasty reader who informs me that, besides the fact I am a terrible person, she is going to post my email address online for everyone to find. It worked. I don’t bother reading any from an address I don’t recognise. Finally I find one that I do recognise - it’s from Maggie Dylan, Editor-in-Chief of
Fab You.
My heart is in my throat as I click on it:

Bella,

In light of the recent exposé on you published by the Gab Gazette and the negative backlash, which has arisen from it, I regret to inform you that we are canceling our feature article contract with you, as well as the book contract.

I have been inundated with emails from readers and concerned parties about the veracity of your writings. In order to protect the integrity of our periodical, I have no choice but to suspend our working relationship until such a time as your reputation reasserts itself as trustworthy.

Attached are the legal documents, which terminate your contracts. You will find everything in order. If you have any questions, please call our attorney.

I stop reading. ‘Concerned parties?’ Who did that mean? And the contracts are cancelled? That means no money. Scrambling for my cell phone, I dial Dr Carver’s office. “Yes, I need to cancel my surgery. When can I expect a refund?”

“When is your surgery?” the receptionist on the other end of the line asks.

“In two days, Saturday,” I reply.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but Dr Carver doesn’t give refunds on cancellations less than a week before the surgery date.”

“But I just received notice of it two weeks ago,” I plead in an attempt to get her to cut me some slack.

“The papers you signed say you’ve read the conditions and agree to the terms,” the receptionist says. “Do you still wish to cancel or do you need to postpone it to a different date?”

I feel like throwing up. “No, I don’t wish to cancel. Thank you.”

I can hear the flush as my life and career go swirling down the toilet. First I lose Jae; then I lose my job. Now I am forced to get surgery, which I can no longer afford.
I’ll be in debt until I’m ready to retire, but by golly, I’ll look good.
The thought sickens me. How can I walk around looking good, knowing I couldn’t afford the work in the first place?

At least I still have my newspaper column gig.
I try to console myself. But how long will that last in light of these horrendous developments?

I shut off my computer, unable to take any more abuse and bad news coming through it, and pace the floor. “Damn you, Tiresa!” I say. “This is all your fault. If you hadn’t set me up, I would still have a book contract. I would still have a promising career. I would still have a husband.” I stop pacing as the light dawns in my head. “She can’t stand it if I succeed. She has been sabotaging me since I married Mika. I wouldn’t doubt it if she contacted Jae and told him lies about me. That would be just like her to do that.”

The cringing, sinking feeling, which has been with me all week disappears as rage against my sister consumes me. “She just has to win. She can’t stand to see me be happy and successful.” And then my rage against her veers toward Jae. “He can’t just dump me. He’s being a chicken, that’s what. Well, if he wants to break up with me, he’s going to have to do it to my face.”

I dial Jae’s cell phone but there’s no answer. It doesn’t even go to voice mail. I dial the number for Go 4 It but Chuck says Jae is in Nelson. I scan the Internet for the AmandaE headquarters phone number and dial it. A secretary informs me that Mr Elliot isn’t available and asks to take a message. I hang up. “He’ll get my message, all right. And then some.”

At least, that’s what I tell myself as I drive through town toward his loft. I don’t see his Jeep and he’s not in the loft. I feel like an intruder, standing in this place where I once felt so welcome, and a little hurt. Where is he? My anger melts into fear. What if I can’t find him? I scan the Internet again on my smartphone for the address to AmandaE headquarters. By the time I pull into the parking lot, my heart is pounding at the thought of seeing him again. As I walk through the lobby doors and into the elevator, I doubt if I will be able to hold back the tears when I see him.
Why did you dump me? I thought we had something great going on. Are you that angry about the plastic surgery? Or do you feel guilty for not telling me who you really are?

If I thought I was nervous before, my nervousness increases ten-fold as I step into the AmandaE reception area. “May I help you?” the receptionist inquires.

“I’m here to see Mr Elliot. He’s expecting me,” I lie.

“Mr Elliot isn’t in his office today,” she informs me.

Damn.
I take a deep breath. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of him for days and it’s very important that I speak with him. I’m Bella White, the woman who wrote the editorial about this company and I need to talk to him.”

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Ms White, but he isn’t here. I can take a message and forward it to him.”

“That’s not good enough!” I raise my voice. “I need to talk to him
now.”

“Bella?” a voice says. I look up to find Amanda standing in the door to her office.

“Amanda,” I nod, “where is Jae?”

She waves me forward. “Come in my office.”

I stalk past the receptionist’s desk and past Amanda. She shuts the door. I don’t bother sitting, preferring to stand my ground both physically and symbolically. Amanda sits on the front edge of her desk. “So, what’s going on?”

“You tell me,” I demand. “You and he are still close. In fact, we could hardly spend time together without you being the third wheel. Jae and I have some things to discuss and he won’t return my calls. This whole situation with your company and my editorial has gotten blown way out of proportion and he and I need to settle our differences. And now that the
Gab
is featuring you as their
Back Page Hero
- what’s up with that? First my sister sets me up as a fraud and then you end up the golden child in the feature, which I was supposed to be in. Are you and Jae trying to make me look bad? Is this revenge because of what I said? All I wanted was an acknowledgement from your company that I had been mistreated and you did nothing. Nothing! Jae didn’t even have the decency to tell me he was vice president or break up with me to my face. I mean, how rude can you two get?”

Amanda shakes her head and crosses her arms. “Do you hear yourself?”

“Excuse me?”

Amanda is still shaking her head. “Bella, you’re making yourself out to be a victim instead of taking responsibility for your actions. All I’m hearing from you is ‘poor me, woe is me, me-me-me’. Do you really view things that way?”

I cross my arms. “I am
not
a victim. I can’t help it that the world hates fat people. I’m trying to change that for the obese of this world. But discrimination is not something you’ve ever had to deal with, I’m sure. All I’ve asked for is a little decency and compassion and you can’t even give me that.”

Amanda shakes her head again. “As far as I can tell from what you’ve said and written, it seems to me that you walked into that AmandaE shop as a victim. And when you act like a victim, you create an atmosphere around you, which makes you a target for victimisation. If you had gone in there with a confident demeanor and a smile and with an expectation of service, maybe those saleswomen would have reacted toward you in the same way and treated you better. It seems to me you entered your relationship with Jae with the same victim mentality, and no relationship can last when one person thinks she’s a victim. Who wants to stay with someone who can’t see past herself?”

“I can see past myself just fine, thank you,” I sneer, but I’m stunned by her accusation. It’s my sister, not me, who can’t see past herself. I want to help others, not step on them to get to the top. I’m not overly concerned about looking perfect like Tiresa is. I’m the good sister. I’m the crusader for equality for the obese. I’m- “As for not responding to your editorial and letter, Jae requested that I let him handle the situation, and so I did. I can’t answer why he isn’t returning your calls and didn’t tell you sooner about his position here, but I do know his heart and he does nothing that will intentionally hurt anybody. But you can’t blame him for everything. It takes two to make a relationship. It sounds like you didn’t know what a good thing you had in Jae until you lost him. Believe me, that I can empathise with.”

You lost him,
Tiresa’s words echo from memory.
Whining about how depressed you were. You deserve to lose him. Mika needed a strong woman. You were never there for him. I find it hard to breathe. Oh God, have I done it again?

“As for your other accusation concerning the Gab, we had no idea they were doing an article on you. If we had, we never would have granted them an interview, which I did only because Jae despises personal publicity. It was his idea to donate clothing to the homeless. He thought of it after meeting your weird friend, the homeless psychologist. So I stood in for him so he wouldn’t have to appear in print. He is an intensely private man and really hates the press. Your editorial and articles and blog have made him a laughing stock among all his friends and associates. I am surprised he stayed with you for as long as he did. Thank God he found out the truth when he saw you canoodling with your ex.”