My big girl (preview)

chapter 4- getting a date

Ash

It’s not like I don’t notice. I mean the first ten pounds were a surprise don’t get me wrong. That first time, I struggle to get the button to the loop on my official business skirt and it won’t easily close. When I make a quick adjustment, pulling in the edges as if it was merely a matter of stuck fabric, but when I look down I see for the first time a tiny pinch of fat squished as I bring point a to point b.

“What the—?” I mutter and walk to the floor length mirror, opening up my button-up which hasn’t started puckering yet. It doesn’t do that until after lunch and by then I hardly care. I can blame it on a food baby, but this isn’t a food baby. I try to bring the button to the loop again and watch as the skin does a little jiggle.

Then, I pop the button under the little bump of belly and force my shirt between a very tight waistband and feel my stomach squish down. It's a weird feeling, but not entirely unpleasant. I feel substantial actually, like maybe I won’t blow away this time if the wind blows.

After that, it is a little less fun, because I don’t exactly have money for new clothes. Soon my outfits pucker even in the mornings, so I have to make sure I wear an undershirt and then my thighs are thickening so my pencil skirt is getting even more difficult to walk in.

Pulling it up over the extra skin and tiny pockets of fat, sometimes I have to jump a few times to squeeze first my thighs and then my growing rump into a pair of trousers. My face doesn’t look any different or my breasts, but my upper arms and shoulders catch awkwardly on jackets and button-ups.

Somewhere in my heart of hearts, I know I could stop eating, but I don’t want to. This is my first time enjoying great food. How could I deny my tummy's rumbling? It’s not like I eat much dinner or even breakfast. After too large lunches by the fourth month, one ramen noodle dinner isn’t enough to sate me in the evening. I start adding some thick peanut butter jelly sandwiches and sometimes even an extra ramen to tide me over.

All I know is I need this job, not to stop eating or lose weight. So what if I'm not a size 0 anymore. I feel like I'm only growing into myself.

***
Brooks

“I’m not sure Ash is the right fit for our company, Brooks,” Eve says, surprising me. It’s month four and Ashley has finished all of her work. There’s always a little each day, but it’s time to switch her to another position or get rid of her. What I'm not expecting is those words from her supervisor’s lips.

“You were raving about her last month. What’s changed? She’s finished the paperwork two months early.”

Eve grows uncomfortable, shifting in her seat.

“I…well, it’s more of a feeling than anything. Her work is great. It’s impeccable.”

“Then, what the hell is the problem?” I bark, wanting her to say the words that I expect she has to say. Eve jumps at my sharp words, scrambling to put together a coherent sentence.

“I’m not sure this is the right job for her. An office position…I’m worried the accounting position will be too stressful.”

“What makes you say that?” I say a little more softly, trying to coax the truth out and feel my treacherous body respond.

“To be honest…she must have gained thirty pounds in four months. That’s a lot of stress eating and she really isn’t showing any signs of slowing down.”

“Eve, I’m shocked,” I say with a chuckle and lean forward. “I never expected someone like you to judge a person because of their size.”

“I-Brooks, I’m just trying to look out for the girl,” she says.

“Do you think she is capable of doing the work?”

“Of course, over and beyond that,” she says. “I like her though and I hate to see her ruin herself over an accounting job.”

“It’s not like we’re a modeling agency,” I say gently. “It’s her body, Eve. I have to do what’s best for the company and to me, that’s hiring her on as our accountant. Honestly, in my opinion those pounds are quite healthy on her.”

“Brooks, I know. She’s not even fat, but thirty pounds is a lot. I just can’t imagine her staying long at the rate she is going,” Eve says. “She’ll either realize this isn’t good for her or she’ll have to work remotely.”

“It isn’t that bad and who knows,” I say with a shrug. I struggle to banish the image of an Ashley too large to come into work. “Maybe she will decide to make some life changes. It’s still early in her career. A lot of people, especially at her age have to make those decisions when they realize they can’t eat whatever they want anymore.”

Eve doesn’t look convinced, but I smile reassuringly.

“She’ll have you as a mentor still even if you aren’t her supervisor. I know you’ve developed a good relationship with her. You can look out for her.” Eve nods finally convinced, but still looks worried.

“You’ve already made your decision,” she says. I smile, because I have.

***
Ash

It’s getting harder to ignore that my clothes aren’t fitting. Eating real food, or at least an abundance of snacks and takeout at work is affecting my body. I don’t think it’s bad thing, except for the fact that I’m running out of clothes that fit.

The pencil skirt my friend gave me is in the back of the closet now crumpled on the floor. I haven’t been able to wear that for a few weeks. Now my biggest frumpiest skirt is slid halfway up my thighs. Bits of flesh prevents it from sliding up easily. I leap around feeling foreign bits of me bounce at random. Looking down, I see thigh flesh and my lower stomach flesh bouncing. I’ve never been even the slightest bit chubby, so it’s weird to see even a little bit of flesh on my body.

I manage to get the skirt to my butt and squeeze my lower belly fat intrigued. Having an ass isn’t a bad thing, I’ve discovered as I’ve gotten a bit more attention at the the bar. My chest is still flat and so is my upper stomach, but it isn’t concave. It’s flat with a tiny little bump of my lower belly poking out.

Tucking in the yellow blouse hard, because there isn’t hardly any wiggle room between the two fabrics and my skin. The shirt sleeves pucker around my arms. The shoulders are pulled tight. The buttons gap around my belly. Everything had been fitted before so now even my biggest shirts look like I’m about to burst from them.

It’s uncomfortable and a little embarrassing, but not unpleasantly so. I’m a growing girl, I think to myself with a smile, wishing I could throw on one of my hoodies, but Marisha has already given me an earful about what to wear every time we meet and bringing more of her extra clothes, oblivious to my growing size.

Most of them are tossed in the back of the closet after I tried them on. I slide on my heels, grab the fake Gucci bag and head out to catch the early metro.

Carmen leans across the counter when I walk in the building. Her eyes graze over me amused as I have coffee and cinnamon buns in hand.

“How ya doing, babe?” She asks. Leaning on the counter, I shake my head.

“I broke my heel, believe it or not,” I admit and just manage to show her since my arms are so full.

“You are such a mess, Ash,” she says with a chuckle. “I think I’ve got some glue.” She goes looking for it, but I shake my head.

“I’ll just twist my ankle or something dumb.” She lifts an eyebrow. “I have a pair of tennis shoes?” She pulls them out of the gym bag she always has with her. “I know they will be too big, but at least if you have to make a coffee run you won’t be bare foot.”

“Thanks, you’re a life saver,” I say and take them. "How can I ever repay you?"

"Oh...I can think of a way," she says, with a cocky smirk, leaning over the counter. "Go out with me this Friday?"

I'm a bit surprised she, this freaking hot woman, would want anything to do with me. My mouth drops.

"Oh, is that not okay? I thought we were cool," she says with a little frown and starts to back up. "No harm done."

"No, I mean, yes. Of-of-of course, I'll hang hang out Friday," I say enthusiastically like a complete dork. She grabs a pen and a post-it so I can give her my number.

In the elevator, I put the over large shoes on, butterflies in my belly, feeling my skirt creak dangerously. It’s so tight I can barely breathe.

With a sigh, I collapse into my cubicle and drop my broken heel. In two seconds the cinnamon buns disappear into my mouth and belly. They are still warm and gooey and I drink half of my sugary coffee, feeling my belly bloat against the skirt tighter.

“Ashley,” Brooks’ smooth sexy voice says, so low and smooth, causing me to nearly leap out of my seat as I spin around.

“Coffee?” I squeak. She leans in against the wall that makes up the cubicle in one of her classic fitted suits. Her hair free, grazing passed her shoulders in fine straight lines, and her hazel eyes drill into mine. I feel small and frumpy as I stand up. Her eyes drop to my oversized shoes and then to my broken heels discarded on the floor near the shelving unit.

“Did you have some issues this morning?” She asks. I nod quickly.

“I—I can be back in a second,” I manage, but she raises a hand.

“No, that won’t be necessary. Have you eaten breakfast yet?” She asks. Before I can even get my mouth open, she answers herself. “Of course you haven’t. You’re an intern. Come on. It’s on me today.”

What the hell is going on? I feel like I’ve just awaken in a parallel universe where nothing makes sense.