The Worst Best Blind Date Ever

Chapter 1

So, I am sitting there with the phone I just placed against the holder. It is silent. I can hear my breathing, and my belly flip flopping like a pair of cheap sandals.

Ugh! My mind races. I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to let my friend fix me up with a date. I know in my heart of hearts though, I need to get out. It has been awhile, and people might start mistaking me for some kind of recluse or something though. I just don’t think my artsy friend, with his ties and khakis Dockers knows who I am, or what I really look for in a partner. I mean, granted he knows a lot more about men then I do, because he is one and takes home more then I would ever dream of.

It has been a rough ride for me so far. The first date was actually into swinging, and not from a rope. I met his wife after he tried to neck with me a bit on the couch, grabbing my belly as if it was his. I admit, I sort of liked how he knew to touch me. At the same time the site of someone enjoying my flab really shocked me, and I acted like I was upset instead. Then again his wife asked me to stay with them that night…

The one after him was even worse. He just promised drinks. And then when we went back to his house he had candles and incense all over the place. We lay on his floor and listened to some Slayer. Then his kids walked in, and I just sat there as they called me “Mommy.”

I don’t know what happened to me. I used to have all these men clamoring for my attention when I was younger, not that I am old. I am nearly 22. I guess the real attraction for them was the fact that I was younger.

Well, I remind myself, I must get ready and let whatever happens happen tonight. I shower, and moisturize with my signature scent. Lavender envelopes me and I even splash some into my hair. I know I am going to a place that doesn’t allow smoking even though I smoke occasionally, but at least I will smell like someone who cares what others smell. I wear my red top that shows off my breasts, and still looks sweet enough paired with my black frilly skirt and high heels.

Standing at 5’8” I still don’t know how much I weigh. I really try not to classify myself with a number, but read somewhere that a SSBBW is more then 300 pounds. I know I am a SSBBW. I put silver rings of light over my wrists and smile as the reflected shine sparkles and is lighter then my own skin.

"I am a big girl," I repeat. "I am in charge. I can do this."

My belly hangs over the skirt just a bit, enough to let you know I have one. I have 2 large round rolls for a midsection. I am so jealous of those girls who have one large round stomach, as mines cut in half. I run my hands over the soft silk of the halter top, over my large DD breasts. To my core, my belly I stop.

The off center cut of the shirt tends to mask my lower belly with the contrasting black skirt. This makes me sort of sad for a moment, am I lying to myself? I am a big girl, but not everyone’s cup of tea.

I scan over the soft skirt, thin and frilly at the bottom, to my knees. They are a startling color, the color of a full moon in the perfectly dark sky. Such milky white skin, looks like 2 rivers of milk being poured into my heels. They clasp at my ankles, which were a bit hard to close with out putting my leg against the bed for support.

I have grown, and for a moment cupcakes, cookies, and candy bars dance before my eyes as I relive the moments I sat and ate them all. The heels add 3 inches, if not 4 inches. My hair is very dark, and in ringlets down my back. It looks like it was spun out of the same soft shiny fabric as the black skirt. My bangs sit around my eyes, and of course my signature purple eyes peek out.

I catch myself staring in the mirror and I catch my breath at the same time.

I drive to the bar and grill. One of those cheesy places with all the sports memorabilia on the walls. I always thought the decorations were a distraction from how crummy the food actually is. I park off to the left of the entrance. I grab a stick of gum, and grumble thinking about how I shouldn’t have skipped lunch. As the greeter opens the door the smells of the sweet liquors at the bar and french-fries in the kitchen overtake me.
7 chapters, created 14 years , updated 53 years
8   10   23208
12345   loading

More by this author


MarkFA 13 years
Brilliant work. You have a very impressive talent.
14 years
I loved it!
Severino 14 years
Awesome writing! Very sensual.