The Next Big Thing (A novel about Internet love, plus size heroines, and reality TV) by Johanna Edwards

Author:Johanna Edwards [Edwards, Johanna]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Rock Steady Books
Published: 2014-09-11T04:00:00+00:00

“Okay, guys, worst fat-girl moment.”

“Oh, God,” I groaned. “Do we really have to do this?”

“Yep. It’s on the card,” Alyssa said.

The following Tuesday, Zaidee came on over the house intercom and ordered us into the living room. When we got there, we found a stack of index cards containing various “discussion questions.”

“I’d like you to all sit in a circle and then, one by one, go down the list of question,” Zaidee’s voice commanded, drifting down from the ceiling.

I hated all the games she made us play. I often found myself wishing we did something useful, like learning how to cope with stress eating, or discussing tips to get the most out of our exercise sessions. But, no. We played games.

The first question on the list was simple: Describe your worst fat-girl moment. What makes it stand out above the rest?

Alyssa was acting as emcee, prompting us to play along.

“I don’t think I can pick only one,” Regan said. “There are too many.”

We all nodded. It was true. How could we roll a lifetime of insults and demoralization into one pat answer?

“Okay, I’ll go first,” Maggie volunteered. “A few weeks ago Thomas, Owen, and I go out for a steak dinner. Thomas and Owen place their orders, no problem. But when I ask for the twelve-ounce sirloin, the waiter tells me, and I quote, ‘Ma’am, I suggest you have the grilled chicken salad. I don’t feel comfortable serving you a steak.’ So I say, ‘What I eat is my choice.’ Then he says ‘Ma’am, when a patron is too drunk, a bartender cuts him off—he brings him a club soda instead of a beer. When I see someone so obviously obese I cut them off from fattening food.’”

My jaw dropped. I made a mental note to never visit Jackson, Mississippi, again so long as I lived.

“Whoa,” Janelle said. “What the hell was his problem?”

“You should have told him you were on Atkins,” I volunteered. “That would’ve shut him up.”

“I’d have squirted ketchup in his face,” Luisa chimed in.

“I’ve had that happen to me,” Regan said sadly. Maggie looked alarmed. “Someone’s squirted ketchup in your face?”

“No, I’m talking about mean waiters. Lots of times when I go out to eat, waiters tell me about the dieter’s special, or offer to show me the low-calorie menu items.”

“Guys, I don’t think that’s the kind of thing they’re looking for,” Alyssa jumped in. “It says, ‘worst fat-girl moment.’ Those are pretty trivial things you’re talking about.”

“That was my worst moment,” Maggie said indignantly. “Unless I go back twenty years, before I was married.”

“Alyssa, has a waiter ever been mean to you like that?” I asked.

“No,” she admitted. “Well, then, don’t call it trivial.”

“Whatever.” Alyssa rolled her eyes. “I’ll go next. Show you girls how it’s done. Two years ago, I was dancing in this club—”

“Pole dancing?” I asked innocently.

Regan burst out laughing so hard diet Coke spewed out her nose. “Sorry, Alyssa,” she said, running into the kitchen to get a napkin.

“Kat, you are so mean.

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