Chapter 2. Field notes

And so my summer began. I spent long days at Scoopers serving ice cream and watching the sunshine glitter on the waves outside. I worked with Peach, the store owner who had interviewed me. It was comforting to feel like she had taken me under her matronly wing. It was just the two of us, which meant we had hectic periods during peak times. I loved it when the small shop would come alive with all the traffic passing through, clamouring for a frozen dessert.

I enjoyed observing all the interactions between the regulars, what kind of niches existed in this flourishing ecosystem. There were many students from the local college that would drop by. They divided themselves up in cliques. The science nerds who were all taking summer courses online would come by for a treat on their breaks or after classes, while the business school students liked to take photos dressed up in their professional attire on the beach for their LinkedIn profiles. The varsity hockey players always travelled in one dense swarm, which was good for business.

Then there were the sorority girls, who were the only group I disliked. They would come in teetering on sky-high heels, with their heavy-handedly drawn-on eyebrows and teeny miniskirts. Each one would appraise me with a smirk when she placed her order, condemning me silently for my plain appearance. Sometimes they would sit in the shop and lie in wait for the jocks, at which point they would flutter their false lashes and flip and twirl their dyed hair, showing off highlights of various colours as they giggled artificially at whatever dull anecdotes the boys could come up with that day. There was one girl in particular who was undoubtedly the Queen Bee; she was the tallest, the slimmest, the most tanned of the group. Her nails were the sharpest, her ponytail the sleekest, her voice the loudest. Her perky boobs must have cost her daddy a fortune, but they seemed to be awkwardly too large for her petite frame. Kelsey was her name, I learned over time. It seemed that the girls only came here so often because Kelsey was into Brad, the biggest and blondest hockey star, and him and his boys had claimed this section of the beach as their territory for the summer.

Of course, there were plenty of other customers: young families with small children, bored high-schoolers, and senior couples. My favourite couple though was a younger one. There was a tall, somber man who would drop in regularly, always asking for the same: two scoops of London Fog ice cream in a waffle cone with honey drizzle on top, please. And a sprinkle of honeycomb on top if it isn't too much trouble for you, he would say to me gravely. I sometimes found it hard not to giggle at how serious he was, an ironic tone for such a sweet and lighthearted request. He would share the ice cream with his shorter and portlier partner, an energetic man with three silver eyebrow piercings and a radiant smile that accentuated his double chin. They would stroll along the beach hand in hand, the tall man slowing down his pace to match his partner's, despite his much longer legs. When the tall man looked at the short man, only then would a rare hint of a smile touch his lips. The way they looked at each other melted my heart, and made me feel hopeful I would one day too find a love like theirs. Folks of all ages were welcome to stop by for a few scoops before going for a scenic promenade by the sea. I served them all with the same genuine smile. It felt nice to be needed, and to serve.

I was also reaping the tasty rewards of my position. During slower periods, Peach would encourage me to have a cone to keep her company as she daintily licked hers. One cone for me turned into two, or three, or four. Sometimes five, if it was a particularly slow day. I indulged in a new flavour each time. Mint chocolate chip, strawberry cheesecake, rocky road, and more took turns tangoing across my taste buds. I also liked putting together sundaes for myself, when I had the time. I was an architect of towers of scoops drowning in steaming mocha sauce and all the toppings my heart desired: cheesecake bites, mini dark chocolate fudge brownies, fresh strawberries, and any gummy candy I was in the mood for that day. I rode a constant sugar high, becoming a junkie always thinking about the concoction I would put together for my next hit. Of course, I would always end my day with a generous helping of cherry. It was my favourite, after all, and I liked to lock up and head home with its flavour lingering on my tongue.

This change in my diet resulted in an according change in my figure, although at first the effects were transient. I would often eat myself to the point of feeling uncomfortably full, stuffed to the brim with as much ice cream as I could pack in my stomach. This created a round little tummy that stuck out just a tiny bit while I was working. I realized that I actually really liked the feeling of being full to this extent all the time, so I continued to seek the feeling. I loved how my tummy felt when it was inflated and firm to the touch, and carrying the weight of the ice cream I consumed everywhere I went was a strange sort of comfort. The first few weeks of stuffing didn't have a lasting impact on me. I would inflate myself throughout the day, but I would deflate by the following morning ready to repeat the process all over again. I was encouraged further by Peach, who would persuade me to add more scoops to my cone or coax me to have another sundae. She was so much larger in size than I was, that I wasn't the least bit concerned about how my body looked to customers. Compared to her, I was magazine cover model skinny.