America's fattest model

chapter 2

Chapter Two

Stepping back into her studio was one of the best coming-home feelings Maddy could get. As someone who came from a Hollywood dynasty, she’d basically been born in front of cameras. Production sets felt more like home than the Beverly Hills mansion she shared with her grandma.

“Nick!” Maddy squealed when she saw who her production director was, rushing over to give him a huge hug. Every week on America’s Fattest Model they switched up the crews so no one would get too attached to the competitors or try to give them an edge. What they didn’t count on was Maddy already knowing half of the crews, and more importantly, being on their good side. For all of her “sugar smoke benders” during the Fashion Weeks, she hadn’t been mingling with other models. It’d been with the so-called little people, like Nick.

“Oh, how are you, my dear?” Nick crooned, pulling the larger model into his decent sized belly. “Did you have fun at the fashion weeks?”

“You know I did. So many hot designs, so many people to rub elbows with.” Her mind flicked back to the long nights and late mornings of sugar-smoke hazed food orgies. Fashion weeks were the life she wanted to have all year round, and she was so close to permanently cementing her place.

“Amazing. Ok, we’re short on time so we’ll save the chit-chat for later. Do you know what you want to do?” Nick raised his well-manicured brows, herding her over to hair and make-up as he spoke. Maddy lifted her arms to let the wardrobe department strip her down and put her back together in their image, but she huffed at Nick.

“Not a clue. I can’t believe Mama Lu really wants us to sell diet pills. I mean, what gives?” She wrinkled her nose only for the makeup artist to swat her hand away.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. Nick just shrugged. She knew he knew something, but the crews weren’t allowed to give any hints to the competitors.

“I think you should go with your gut on this,” he said vaguely. Maddy pursed her lips only to once again get scolded by the makeup artist. Fine. She held perfectly still as her face was remade. Wardrobe buttoned a generic button down over her massive belly, each button straining against her gut.

“Is this really what I’m supposed to wear?” she asked.

“If anyone asks, you chose it,” Nick practically sang at her, begging her to pick up on an uptake she wasn’t quite getting. Diet pills? Frumpy clothes? None of this fit the theme of America’s Fattest Model. How was she supposed to sell something she didn’t believe in and morally objected to? Diet pills were evil, everyone knew that. They’d caused tons of health issues in their heyday, and ruined the self esteem of generations of women. They were virtually obsolete now, and had a strong stigma attached to them. They’d contributed to Maddy’s own mother passing away before her time. This didn’t make sense, unless…

“Am I supposed to refuse the assignment? Is that the test?” she asked. Nick looked genuinely surprised.

“What? No. Absolutely not. No way production would pay for us all to come out here just for models to throw a fit, that’s a horrible precedent,” he scoffed.

“But…” Maddy pressed. He rolled his eyes.

“Listen: just because you’re the only model left on the show who actually treats their background people with respect doesn’t mean I can just tell you the whole trick of the season. I’ve already told you too much, you big doofus,” Nick sassed. The wardrobe crew stepped away and he gave her a once over: snug jeans with the zipper unbuttoned that created a delicious muffin top of belly, the horribly ill-fitting button down, makeup that overly emphasized her double chin ridge and forehead fat. Nick beamed.

“You look absolutely perfect, my darling. Let’s get you into position, hm? Cameras will be rolling,” he sang the last part, as an obvious reminder to Maddy to quit trying to fish for information and get it together. Maddy followed after him, feeling like she was going to rip her shirt open with every step she took. Her feet already ached from standing on them, but she was pleased to see a chair on set, plus a big bottle of the LifeLess Diet Pills in a garish pill bottle. She gladly took the seat and skimmed the label while she waited for the challenge-specific camera crew and production staff to get into place. The crew filming America’s Fattest Model’s B-roll was already filming from the sidelines.

“And… action!” Nick called. Maddy’s belly swirled with panic at the lack of warning or preparation time. The teleprompter was blank since she was doing this improv. All she had was the bottle of pills, and no time to think. She trained her face into an energetic smile that hopefully didn’t look too manic or fake, but her mind remained as empty as a bubble.

Seconds were dripping by, and she had no idea what to do. She didn’t know how to sell this product. She’d been one of the top performers through the entire season, and the idea that this– this odd whim of Mama Lu’s– would drop her to the bottom made her want to sweat bullets under the hot production lights. She had to do something.

“Tired of your clothes fitting like mine?” Maddy asked, giving her enormous belly a slap to make it jiggle. It was seductive instead of derogatory, but she didn’t have time to clam up over the details. “Tired of being out of breath everywhere you go? Miss seeing your toes, or being able to touch them? LifeLess Diet Pills can help! They’re–” She held up the bottle, shamelessly reading the back of it mostly because she knew this was a practice take “--Designed for the extreme obesity pandemic, to get users back into a… toned and trimmed down lifestyle.” Maddy grimaced, fully giving up for this take. Her heart wasn’t in it.

“LifeLess,” she quipped, looking dead into the camera, “For those who want to enjoy life… less.”

“Cut!” Nick - not to mention the rest of the crew - was collectively choking back laughter. Maddy wished she could giggle along with them, but she was too busy being stressed. She had to sell this product, but what she wanted was to throw it out the window.

“Give me some direction, at least,” Maddy begged Nick. “Work with me.”

“What you did at the end– I liked that,” he said. Maddy frowned, having assumed that would be the part he didn’t want her to do. Mocking a product? It was unheard of. But she trusted Nick.

“You can’t really mean that I should–”

“Action!” Nick called with a significant look toward the AFM cameras before Maddy could fully speak her thoughts. Maddy composed herself. She was professional. She could do this. She held up the bottle of LifeLess Diet Pills.

“Are you tired of life being too full? Do you wish your social life would just slim down a little? Tired of the smoky haze and looking for something new? My name is Maddy Henderson, and I’m here to talk to you about LifeLess Diet Pills. None of the cool kids are taking them. Certainly not me.” She winked and smacked her enormous gut, like before. Behind the camera, Nick was motioning her to keep going, a look of pure glee on his face.

“With LifeLess Diet Pills, you’re guaranteed to lose your belly. It’s right on the bottle!” She turned the bottle, holding it up to the camera so they could see the lime green “weight loss guaranteed!” in italics. Nick was motioning her to wrap it up.

“LifeLess Diet Pills: for those who want to enjoy life less!” This time she gave the camera the most sarcastic smile she could.

“Cut!” Nick called before clapping enthusiastically for her.

“Maddy, that was absolutely PERFECT, you nailed it!”

“--What?” Maddy’s heart was thundering in her chest. “But I didn’t do anything at all to sell the product. Nick, I was mocking it!”

“As it was meant to be! Come on, Maddy, use your brain for something other than thoughts of more food. Do you really think a show that is literally titled America’s FATTEST Model would ever possibly want you to actually sell diet pills?”

Maddy gaped as it all finally clicked. She’d been snorting too much sugar smoke if it really took someone else pointing it out for her to make the connection. It was an obvious trick. She wondered if the other competitors had puzzled it out or not.

“So are we shooting again?” Maddy asked. Nick shook his head.

“Two takes, that’s it. The other twist in the assignment. Surprise, you’re done.” He waved her away as a techie guided her to her dressing room. A massive lunch spread was set up there, which only happened when the producers didn’t want the competitors trading notes ahead of the judgment. That made sense. She sat down to eat and tried to calm her nerves. Perhaps she’d done OK after all.
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