Chapter 3 - paul tells his secrets

"He totally porked out. It looks like a lot of guys here have gained weight, but I'm surprised to see Paul all pudgy like that," she said as she downed her wine cooler and reached for some chips.

I took this opening and walked over to her.

"Hi Kathy, I couldn't help but overhear you talking about Paul."

"Yeah, I guess that without me around he stopped caring about how he looked," she said, looking for approval from her gal pals as she filled her mouth with chips.

I reached out and patted her stomach and said, "So what explains your expanded midsection?"

Defensively she said, "It's different for women. You know, a little bit of weight comes with kids. It's expected, you know. Well, actually, you wouldn't know. You're still single, aren't you?" Her tone was catty, and the other ex-cheerleaders were giggling wickedly in agreement. "It's a mark of a real woman to become a mother, and getting a bit more voluptuous is just part of it."

I grabbed her love handle and squeezed it until she winced. "That's not voluptuousness, Kathy. That's fat. Seems a little hypocritical to put Paul down, like the pot calling the kettle black, or in your case, the potbelly!" I let her flab go, and the gasps of her friends rang in my ears as I turned back to take Paul his beer.

It was not a light beer, by the way.

The rest of the night was fantastic. Paul and I drank and talked like nobody else was in the room. We traded stories of young adult comedies and tragedies. As the official function was winding down, I boldly suggested we go to an all-night diner down the road. He agreed to the idea, and we left without much fanfare.

We were seated and the waitress came to take our order. I ordered a club sandwich and a diet coke. Paul ordered steak and eggs, a tall stack of buttermilk pancakes, an order of hash browns, and a side of bacon. I couldn't help but notice him watching my reaction. When the waitress left, Paul looked down at his placemat and started nervously drawing circles on it with his finger. I could see his blue eyes deepen in color and almost look sad.

"Do you think I'm a pig?" he asked.

"No, why would you say that?"

"I mean, I ordered so much food. And look at me, I'm not the same strong thin basketball star I once was," he said with some pain in his voice.

"I think you look better now than you did then."

"That's so nice of you to say, but I saw everyone's reaction tonight. They looked at me like I was a joke or something."

"I don't think so. Besides, who made them the Taste police?"

"Can I tell you a secret? Well It's sort of two secrets in one." He looked up at me, his eyes a bit misty.

"Sure", I said not certain this whole thing was going the way I had hoped.

"I don't normally look like this. I dieted so I would feel comfortable at the reunion. Isn't that crazy! Until eight months ago, I was about forty pounds heavier."

I silently cursed my luck at not being able to see Paul with another forty pounds on his tall big-man frame. Then I remembered. "What's the other part of the secret?" I asked.

"You're going to think I'm nuts, but I just have to tell someone." He paused. "I love to eat. I love to stuff my face full of rich fattening food. I love sit on my couch and eat until I have to unbutton my pants so I can breath."

"You're not nuts Paul, you're visceral", I said.

"I'm what?"

"Visceral, a pleasure creature. You get pleasure from feeling full. Humans are made to receive pleasure from eating. I guess it's God's insurance policy against us starving ourselves."

"Really?" he said, looking at me intently, his eyes brightening. "I thought it was rebelling against years of feeling pressure to be athletic and in shape. I've always liked to overeat, I guess that as I got older I started giving in to that desire more and more."

"I wouldn't look at it as giving in. Giving in is what those Hollywood hunks do. Society is sick in that it thinks that the only men who are handsome are thin and muscular. The male form is meant to be big, real big and thick." I wondered if I had gone too far, but I decided to continue. "At least, that's what I think. I bet you looked fantastic forty pounds heavier."

"Hmmm, I wonder. It did seem like a lot of women were checking me out as I grew fatter. I thought maybe they were staring at me because I was so fat. Maybe they were staring at me because they were actually attracted to me. Could that be possible?"

"Listen, I think a lot of women prefer big men. They aren't vocal about it for the same reason men go the gym so much. Society has projected this sick image of the ideal male shape and many women are afraid that if they admitted they liked big men, they would be made fun of."

Paul smiled. "What do motor scooters and fat boys have in common?"

(If you want to know the answer, this is continued, so just click the next section below).