chapter 1b - in which kara pops a seam in public

Despite her hopes, it turned out that eating slowly wasn’t Kara’s latent ‘special skill’. She had to keep going back to top up. Steel bob hadn’t grown bored of glancing over at her and Kara hadn’t mastered the art of the partially-full fork, so now she found herself here: in an already too-tight dress, unable to stop pouring rich buffet food down her throat. She’d pulled her chair close to the table to hide her belly, but she could feel it trying to settle down into her lap. A few of the girls were now just openly watching her. Kara wasn’t paying them any attention. She was single minded.

Full. Oof. Come on girl, another bite. It can’t be long now. This food is so damn good. Ok. Swallow. So full. God, so much for starting a diet this week – When this lot all settles we’ll be lucky to fit back in our jeans. Do we fit in our jeans now? We can do them up! Yeah, if we jump around a bit first! Another mouthful.

Actually, get some of the shrimp too. Nice. We can do this. Too full. No, not too full. Remember Christmas? That was *too* full. Fine. Yes. But still full. Full enough to feel the skin stretching around the middle. To feel the weight of it all in the belly. To feel a little difficulty breathing. How strong are dress seams anyway? They’re pretty strong right? And far too full to reasonably be able to suck it in convincingly for any length of time. Another bite. Ok. Wow. This is actually phenomenal food. Imagine having this all the time. Good luck staying skinny. Ha. ‘Skinny’. God. So full. What happens if they don’t call time for the audition? Do we just keep eating?

Kara had sudden mental image of her belly swelling until it split the seams of her dress and the weight of her broke the chair legs, leaving her sat on the ground unable to get up. Helpless as the salad-eaters pointed and tittered their high-class titters.

Enough. She put down her fork and pushed her plate away.

At the other end of the room, Steel bob looked up and smiled evilly. She stood up to walk over, but as she did so the mantel clock chimed. The woman stopped and then took up her champagne flute and salad fork again:

“Ladies, thank you all for sharing with us the details of your skills and talents – Now, please follow us through to the audition.”

A hundred thoughts went through Kara’s head as she waited for the room to empty. ‘What the hell are we doing?’ was chief amongst them. What was this audition going to be? Why the hell did we eat so much? What had Steel bob meant by “All”? And are we going to be able to get up?

She pushed the chair back and looked down. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but there were no snapped seams, no popped buttons, no gaping holes letting acres of fat gut spill onto hugely fattened thighs. Just crumbs and a much more visible belly than before. She tried to suck it in. Nothing. Not an cm of change. Did it still jiggle. Nope. She poked it. The fabric was tight and hard, and inside the belly felt the same.

“You too, darling – You can play with that later. I doubt it’s going anywhere.”

Kara froze. Steel bob was holding the door open for her. Fuck. Fuck fuckity fuck. Ok, get up. Ignore the weight of it. Good. Right. Walk. No don’t look her in the eye. And don’t waddle we’re in heels! Fuck. Are we sucking in as hard as we can? What the fuck do you think we’re doing? Ok. We’re there. Ok…

“Ahem?”

Kara looked up at the perfectly put-together agent.

“Your bag.”

She could feel the older woman’s eyes all over her as she scampered back to the table to get her handbag. She could imagine her every feature being judged and found…well ‘wanting’ wasn’t the right word for it. With the dress now pulled even tighter, she felt like too much wurst stuffed into too little casing. Bloated and heavy. Those imperious eyes would be sneering as months of poor discipline jiggled a little on her hips, thighs, buttocks, breasts. All orchestrated by 45 minutes of bloody-mindedness in her solid round middle. Great.

She grabbed the bag and hurried back past Steel bob with her head down, and into the auditorium to join the line of candidates.

“Now, ladies, the role we’re looking to fill is all about communication – So we’re going to keep this simple and a little playful! Communicate with my colleagues and me, as clearly as you can, your enjoyment in having dessert”

There was plenty of chatter as everyone revelled in the sheer fashionable absurdity of being judge on eating a croissant or sorbet! Oh how the society pages would make understated comment on this! My personal trainer won’t believe it! Do you have anything without gluten? Etc.

At the back of the line, Kara slowly approached the beautifully laid out desert trolley. She felt Steel bob drop into the line behind her momentarily.

“Only one this time, if you please, Miss Suesse” Kara’s cheeks started to burn. She didn’t look up. The other woman strode away. By the time she reached the trolley, there was only one thing left. A jam doughnut. Plain. Simple. Plump and overfilled. How fitting. The hotel attendant placed it perfectly in the centre of a beautiful delicate china plate.

“Now, let’s make sure everyone gets an opportunity here. We’ll reverse the order. Miss Suesse, if you would?” Steel bob indicated a chair on the small stage, about 4 metres away from the group. Kara walked towards it.

“All you have to do is show us that you enjoy eating, dear. I doubt that’ll be too much of a problem.” There was poorly-muffled laughter from one or two places in the small crowd.

Kara tried to suck in her belly. It didn’t move. She tried to will away the flushing of her ever-so-slightly-chubby cheeks. They didn’t stop burning. She put her chin up and walked to the chair. So we’re a little heavier. Maybe more than a little after that meal. And they’re all so pretty. We’re like a…like…like a…pigeon amongst kestrels or something. They’re going to laugh at us. And they’ve got every right to.

You know what. No. This whole process is bullshit. Get a job for eating a doughnut? Bougie nonsense. They’ve been laughing at everything about us since we arrived. Wrong dress, wrong bag, wrong hair. Fuck them. Fuck them and their tennis coaches. You want to see me enjoy this doughnut? Right, get a load of this!

Kara dropped down into the chair heavily, delighting in the squeak it made. She picked up the doughnut in her right hand and then glanced at the empty plate in her left. It had gold edging and a raised pattern of leaves. It was beautiful. She looked back at the doughnut and threw the plate over her left shoulder. There were gasps as it shattered.
Only just avoiding her fingers, Kara tore into the doughnut. Full or not, there was always room for dessert. She closed her eyes and moaned as the explosion of sugar hit her senses. A whole mouthful. Not a polite mouthful. Not a ladylike mouthful. Capacity. Maybe the debutants would learn something. Let’s give them the full lesson.

Kara let her legs fall open and slouched back into the chair. Posture be damned. She stopped sucking in and let her belly bulge forward into her dress. Ignoring the creak from the seams, she took another enormous bite. Jam squirted onto her chin and dripped onto her heaving cleavage. She swallowed and felt the mouthful slide down her throat. She let her left hand caress her throat and then trailed her fingers down, through the jam on her chest, following the mouthful down, until the hand came to rest on the dome of her overstuffed middle. She slapped it just to feel how full it was.

The last bite was gone in an instant. Kara hadn’t intended to moan, but she had. She licked her fingers to get the last of the sugar. And then made the mistake of opening her eyes.

The whole room was staring at her. Even the dessert attendant. Nobody was impressed. There was shock and a little bit of disgust. It’s hard to hold onto righteous class outrage when shame is welling up inside you. Kara snapped her thighs together and winced at the volume of the clap. She imagined every single thought bubble above the group of women. A little herd of imaginary pigs. A little flock of imaginary foie gras geese stuffed to bursting point. Fuck. Way to recover from making a pig of yourself, Kara. Making a laughing stock too. She straightened up to heave herself out of the chair, but as she sat forward the seam at her side finally gave up. The noise was inescapable.

The universe decided to give a second’s grace before collapsing around Kara. A second to consider whether she’d really ‘Stuck it to the Man’ or just done what she always did and taken any excuse to over-eat. A second. And then the laughter started.

Kara made it to the door before the tears stung her eyes. And then Kara ran.


*******Four days later******


Kara listened to the message again. Ok, just one more time.

“Kara Suesse” – Yes. Ok. That bit was right.

“After reviewing the auditions” – Uh huh. Yes. That is what they would have done.

“And my write up of your special skills” – This. This is the bit that made no sense.

“Cetocean Cruises have decided that you best meet their requirements.” – This bit also made no sense.

“They are offering the performer package as described at the auditions, beginning with a probationary performance starting with a meeting at Tokyo International Airport on the 24th of May. If you can’t make…” And then it just went into details.

Kara hung up on the message. Considered her options. And a ate a KitKat.