Moore To Love (6 page)

“Bummer.” I giggle as we start to walk. “Want to talk about it?”

She shrugs, looking both ways before stepping into the street. “Nah, no use wasting time regurgitating my crap. To sum it up, work sucked, I had a crappy date with Paul, and my noisy neighbors kept me up all night so I didn’t get much sleep.”

I’m immediately sorry for my struggles, again. Seems I’m always inadvertently apologizing for my weight in some way or another. “Oh, Tay. You could have cancelled. I would have gone alone.”

With a pat on my shoulder, Tatum smiles. “Don’t be silly. I want to be here. I’m happy to cheer you on and to catch up with you, which reminds me. We’re still on for tonight, right?”

Shit! What’s tonight? I totally forgot.
I feign recollection, seeing as I have no other plans anyway, and nod again and again. “Yup! We’re on like Donkey Kong. What are we doing again?”

“Um . . . Netflix and Chill except I’m not booty calling you, and between binging on
Orange is the New Black
, we’re redoing my resume. You totally forgot, didn’t you?”

“Nope. It’s on my calendar. Swear. Crazy Eyes and resume polishing. Nine p.m.”

“Good. Now, let’s get our groove on so I can go back to bed before the neighbors start in again.”

When we arrive at the park, I take note of the usual suspects I’ve become accustomed to running into every day since I started my new routine.

There’s the man with four dogs on two double leashes. He nods his ‘hello’ and I swear the dogs do the same. Next up is the thirty-something mother with her jogger stroller and her happy toddler. She lifts one hand from the stroller and waves at me. I return the gesture and smile. Coming round the bend are the boys from the track team. They have to be freshmen because they’re scrawny and pimply, still not into their own. The first time we crossed paths they nearly slammed into me in an inseparable flock. Now when they notice me approaching, they part like the Red Sea, making room for me with brace-faced smiles and squeaky hellos.

“You’re like the mayor, Leni! Look at you.”

I smile, pride fueling my tired legs. “Yeah, I guess. It’s only been three weeks, but these people make the track feel like home, ya know?” I look forward to their greetings and they encourage me to push further, bringing a warmth that can only be explained as
Cheers
syndrome, as I like to call it. You know, belonging to a place where everyone knows your name? I guess it’s silly since none of them actually know my name, but the point is, I feel welcome. Part of the crowd. Akin to these folks sharing the track with me.

“Maybe you’ll meet someone, huh?” Tatum nudges me and winks.

I roll my eyes and shake my head, dismissing her. It’s not so far fetched, except that of the all the people who’ve been so welcoming and warm, there’s only
one
whose attention I cannot seem to grab.

“Too bad, Fancy Pants won’t even look my way.” I pout.

“Who?”

“Oh, just this guy who’s always wearing a snazzy pair of track pants. He’s really cute—more like knee-buckling-hot—with a badass tattoo wrapped around his bicep and shaggy blond hair that bounces with his stride. Dude never looks up from the pavement to give me the same courteous nod that most of the other joggers do. Whatevs.” I should rename him Rude Fucker, but I don’t like to judge. Maybe he’s having a bad day—consistently for the last three weeks. Maybe he’s concentrating. Maybe he just doesn’t want to give a chubby girl false hope in the form of acknowledgment. Who the hell knows. Either way, it’s started to grate on me. More like, it’s become a mission to get the guy to give me the time of day. I’m not asking for a wedding proposal, but a simple ‘hey’ would suffice.

“You need to up your game, girl!
Make
him look at you!”

“No. I have no desire to attempt flirting with a guy while I’m all sweaty and out of breath. Plus, I’d rather him
not
notice me until I’ve lost some of the weight. Better odds and all.”

“Oh my God, this again? You make it sound like you’re a leper. You’re beautiful, you’re smart, you’re funny as hell. Any guy should be
honored
to flirt with you. You piss me off, so bad! You know that?”

I shrug, shaking off the lecture I’ve heard over and over. “What? I’m just being realistic. I’m used to it. It’s okay.”

“Well, stop being used to it. Go for what you want and if Fancy Pants is what you want, go forth and seize his fine ass. Otherwise, stop dwelling. It ain’t a pretty look on you.”

She’s right. I know this. With each passing day I promise myself I won’t let it get to me, but it always does. I’m one of those people who thrive on the acceptance of others. Pretty stupid goal for a fat chick with self-esteem issues, but I’ve done a good job of compensating where I’m lacking, the way Tatum pointed out. I want to scream at Fancy Pants,
People like me! Why can’t you?
It’s true, it’s what’s on the inside that counts. I’ve tried to follow that motto, but unfortunately, society has its ways of judging a book by its cover.

Thankfully today I have Tatum to overpower the voices in my head. I quickly change the subject. “So, you’re really thinking about quitting your job? You hate it that much?”

A long, aggravated groan erupts from her dainty mouth. “Let’s put it this way . . . every morning I wake up and pray I’ll take a stumble down the steps. I’d love to break a leg or, better yet, both, so I can be laid up in bed on disability.”

“That bad, huh?” I laugh.

“That bad.” She bobs her head. “If I stay there any longer, I’m certain I’ll go to jail for mass homicide because killing my boss won’t be enough. The entire staff are assholes. I need out before they dull my sparkle.” She waves jazz hands in the air and curtsies with grace.

This makes me stop dead in my tracks with laughter. “No one can dull
your
sparkle, babe. You’re glitterlicious! And after we spruce up your already kickass resume, the chances of you being put away for murder will decrease significantly.”

“Sounds like a plan.” We high five each other and then I see something out of the corner of my eye that nearly makes me stumble.

“Shit!”

Rounding the bend is none other than Fancy Pants. I don’t want Tatum to know it’s him. Part of me doesn’t want
him
to see me with
her
because—okay, fine! Because she’s perfect and I’m not and if the first look I get from him is because he was really looking at her, I’ll want to poke her eyes out. And she’s my best friend and thoughts like that about your best friend aren’t very friendly.

“My shoe lace is untied.” I pull Tatum by the hand, dodging off course.

I focus on pretending to tie the shoelace that’s actually already secured in a double knot, but I can’t break my stare from him no matter how hard I try.

Tatum follows my line of sight and slaps me on the ass. “Leni! That’s him, isn’t it?”

“Ouch!” The slap stings and my screech turns heads.
His
head. And . . .
hers.
They look our way and then smile tightly. I smile back although I’m left thinking,
Who are you and why are you with my man?
He has a running mate today and she’s everything I’m not. Tall, thin, tan, blonde,
perfect
. Before they noticed me they were laughing together. I can’t help wanting to know what she said to bring that kind of enjoyment to his face. The enjoyment that vanished as soon as he made eye contact with me.

I quickly avert my attention. My gut burns with disappointment and, dare I say it, embarrassment. I’d be lying if I failed to admit that there were days I crawled out of my bed and dragged my ass down to the park just to get a glimpse of him. Stupid. I know.

I untie and retie the other lace just to keep busy waiting for him to be gone and then a hand hits the back of my head with a harsh thud.

“Hey! What was that for?” I rub the throbbing spot.

“How can he notice you if you’re off cowering on a park bench?”

“Oh, give it up, Tatum. He has no reason to notice me when he has
her
.” I plop onto the bench and Tatum joins me.

She wraps an arm around me and squeezes me close. “It could have been his sister for all you know. Why are you always so pessimistic? You’re so much better than that.”

“It comes with the territory. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Tell me you’ll stop thinking you’re anything
but
the amazing, loving, gorgeous best friend I know and love. Size isn’t everything, you know?”

“That’s definitely
not
what she said.” I use sarcasm to mask the hurt.

“Definitely not,” she giggles. “But it’s what
I
said and I know what I’m talking about so when are you going to start listening?”

Time to shut her up before this gets sappy. I don’t have time for sap. I need to finish my workout and get to work. Except, Tatum’s always been there for me and I owe her something other than my gloom and doom. I recall the deal Ashley made with me at the bridal boutique and steal her idea. Fueled by my newfound battle against the bulge, I blurt out, “How about I make you a deal?”

Her eyes sparkle with wonderment. “Let’s hear it.” She rubs her hands together and bites her bottom lip.

“When I get to my goal weight—
if
I get to my goal weight—I’ll put myself out there.”

“You’ll flirt with Fancy Pants?” She jumps to the edge of the bench.

“No! Geez, you’re relentless. Forget him. He’s taken. I’m talking about
other
hot, tattooed, shaggy-haired men. I’ll even let you set me up.”

She clutches her chest and gasps.
Shit!
I shouldn’t have thrown in that last part. “Really? Really? Really?”

“Yeah, really. But not until that scale says the magic number and until then, I need you to let me complain about being on a diet, let me whine about being fat, and continue to let me wallow in my pessimism. You think you can do that?”

Her eyebrows scrunch in disgust. “You take the fun out of everything, Len. And when will you get it through your thick skull that the attention of a man won’t fix everything. You need to feel worthy of
yourself.
A guy can’t do that for you and it goes so much deeper than losing a few pounds.”

Once again she’s right, but this is all too heavy a convo for right now. I realize I have things to work on other than shedding some skin, but I’ll deal with that later.

“Can we not? I made you a deal, you taking it or not?”

It takes her a second to give in, but then her pretty smile returns to her even prettier face. “Fine! You’re on! Whine away, there’s a silver lining with my name on it!”

While I’m enthused by Tatum’s amusement, I’m not so sure I’ll be able to hold up my end of the bargain. The whole idea of a full-on transformation scares the ever loving shit out of me.

“Don’t do it, Leni.” Tatum’s calm warning reminds me of my mother’s when I was a child.

“Shut up, wench!” I snap. I want no part of reprimands today. It was a bad one. The kind where your cravings get the best of you and your stomach speaks in tongues—growling and crying for anything other than a freaking raw carrot or a tasteless cucumber slice.

“Come on, it’s not worth it! You’ll regret it later.” My friend’s hand is at my wrist in a death grip.
Geez, she seems more invested in this than I am.

“Fuck off!” I pout and nudge her in the arm with a rather sharp elbowing.

“Ow, bitch!” That gets a rise out of her. “Put down the goddamn spoon and have a little self respect!”

I gape at her, the spoon dripping with a huge heaping of Rocky Road. “Did you . . . did you really, just—?”

“Yeah, I really just.” She yanks the melted ice cream covered spoon from my hold and stuffs it in her own mouth. After she licks her lips and fingers clean of
my
treat, she deadpans, “Deal or no deal, it’s been three weeks and you’ve lost twelve pounds! That’s two small newborns! That’s amazing, Leni I’m so proud of you and you should be, too. So, why?
Why
would you ruin everything you worked for with this?” Tatum points to the quart of poison as if it’s . . . well, poison.

“Shit, Tatum. I’m not snorting coke! I just wanted to treat myself. I had a shitty day and I needed something more than an ugly green vegetable to help me get through.” I rise from the table with a loud scrape of my chair against the tile floor and head to the fridge. If I can’t have my beloved ice cream, I’ll have to settle for celery.

Tatum follows behind me, like a woman on a mission. “Do you hear yourself? That’s the one thing you haven’t admitted yet. You use food as a crutch, as some weird coping mechanism.”

“So!”
Doesn’t every woman?
I ignore her as I search through the fridge for something to accompany my crunchy veggie.

“So? So, you have me, your parents, and Reynold and Ashley! You don’t need to turn to
food
when you have a shit day . . . turn to
us
! And what the hell was so awful about today that you decided to do
that
?”

“Again? Calm your tits. You’re pointing to the ice cream container like it’s a weapon of mass destruction.”

“It is.” She snorted with laughter but I didn’t find anything amusing about this. “Your ass will spontaneously combust if you eat it. Because let’s face it, Len, I know one scoop isn’t gonna do the trick. Then, after you devour the entire quart you’ll cry because you’re disappointed in yourself and then your shitty day will turn into a shittier night and you’ll find yet another food to comfort you in your time of need. ’Round and around . . . see the cycle, here?”