Chapter 1 - we will never go hungry again

I sat awash in a sea of blubberous fat, my belly stretched out before me, wider and larger than I ever imagined it could get. I felt hazy and stuffed. How long had it been? How much food had I eaten?

I wondered how I had gotten here, and my mind went back in time to my first memory, eating a churro on my father's lap. It was sweet and salty and warm, and my face must have been animated with cartoonish joy. I asked papa for another but my mom scolded me for asking.

"A little girl shouldn't eat so much," she said.

A few minutes later when she left, my dad propped me up on his lap and gave me another. I scarfed it down while still savoring every flavor as they married together in my mouth, and asked him for another. He laughed and said that maybe my mother was right.

He was a hefty man, with a belly that shook when he laughed. I stroked his mustache and made him laugh more.

Even though we were poor, when father was paid by his foreman he always made us a festive meal with slow simmering rice and beans with fresh pork fat cooked into it, and fried corn tortillas. Father always bragged how our great grandfather was a famous chef to a Spanish King. They called him the fat chef because he was jolly and always in good spirits. At first the label was more a joke because of his famous appetites as a young man. He later lived up to the title, however, as the years of constant tasting in the kitchen caught up to him. A jealous young cook under him accused him of stealing food from the kitchen and he was forced to move our family to Mexico to be a chef for an ambassador. Great grandfather continued to become a fatter and fatter chef, his eating never slowing down until he died an enormous man at age 85. His jokes and giant belly were still legend in my village.

Growing up, I loved the days when my mom would make tres leche cake and cut my sister and I off a big piece. I would eat mine quickly, my eyes rolling back in my head with sheer ecstasy. My sister Bella would take her time, and usually only had enough room for a few bites, so she'd let me quickly shovel the rest in my mouth when my mom's back was turned.

I became a little pudgy by age nine, but when father lost his job we all became thin and rarely had enough to eat.

Bella and I would go down to the dusty road and beg for change, but made sure father didn't find out. He would never live down the shame. We were gaunt and dirty little chicas, and after we gathered a few coins we'd sneak them onto papa's bedside table drawer.

To kill time while waiting for strangers to put money in our tins, we'd play a game. Anytime our skinny little tummies started to growl, I'd say, "some day we'll never go hungry again."

"We won't?" she said.

"No, we'll have buffets full of roast pig, and corn and fresh buttered bread, and thin sliced cow, and as many cakes as we want. Cakes of all shapes and sizes."

When I was 15 and Bella was 16 we moved to Mexico City. I got part time work washing dishes at a run-down bar. Every Tuesday they'd take the trash out to the dumpster and the waste always surprised me. I'd sneak out and grab handfuls of delicious pulled pork and corn-cakes and stuffed Poblanos. I'd eat as much as my stomach could possibly hold and for a few minutes lay on the ground feeling like everything was finally right with the world.

All week I looked forward to that feeling -- of feeling like the skin on my stomach was stretched tight and if I ate another bite I'd burst. I loved the feeling of hiccups starting to form and laying on the pavement clutching my stomach feeling almost nauseous with all the food in my belly. When I went to bed hungry the rest of the week, I'd close my eyes and dream of that feeling. Sometimes I dreamed of what it'd be like to be like my great-grandfather and be a jolly fat chef. I pictured myself with a huge buffet full of endless treats, stuffing my fat belly.

On Bellas's 19th birthday there was a big commotion in our part of the city because they were filming part of a Hollywood action movie called "Reluctant Hero" in our district.

Bella came to visit me at the bar and we joked about our childhood game. She looked gorgeous in her birthday clothes. Some said she was the prettiest girl in Mexico City. She still looked skinny for a latina, so I joked with her.

"Some day we'll never go hungry again," I said.

"We won't?" she said

"No, we'll have buffets full of delicacies, American delicacies. Cakes of all shapes and sizes. We can eat whatever we want." The thought swept me up and I started to get carried away. "We can eat all day if we want, we'll never have to stop."

She looked at me, amused.

She poked my tummy, and said, "but won't we get fat if we eat all day?"

"I wouldn't care, I could be a fat chef like great granddad."

She laughed. I looked over in the corner and man was clutching his beer and I could tell he overheard us.

The next day we went with some friends to see the commotion on Catorce Street. There were big machines set up that we had never seen. Cranes and dollies, and wires. We kept trying to sneak a look at someone famous, but realized we had no way of knowing who the actors were. We had never seen an American movie.

I saw a large group of people gathered around a man who spoke loudly, and everyone around him wrote notes on a piece of paper. It took me a few moments, but I realized even through his sunglasses that this was the man from the bar!

Without thinking, I grabbed Bella's hand. "Come!" I said.

She laughed without protesting. Two men started to wrestle outside one of the fenced off areas, so we were able to sneak in through a small crevice without anyone noticing.

I found a Mexican looking woman and asked as casually as I could who the man was. She looked skeptical of us, but then said, "jefe." This means boss. Then she scurried off.

We waited by a brick wall and approached him after everyone had left.

"We must speak with you, sir." I said.

He seemed impatient, but I could tell he understood Spanish, and I could tell he recognized us. He couldn't take his eyes off my sister.

"My sister, sir. She is known by all as the most beautiful girl in all of Mexico City. I see the other girls in your movie over there. We both know there are none as beautiful as her. You must put her in your movies. She would be a star."

"I don't have time for this," he said, in perfect Spanish.

He began to rush off, but I grabbed his arm and stared him down. "You must do this sir, I promise she won't let you down."

He glanced at her again, and then left.

She was furious. "Why did you embarrass me like that," she said.

It was trash day, so I went behind the bar and began to eat and eat until I felt a familiar calm fullness come over me. I sat on the ground and unbuttoned my pants, patting my distended belly. Only then did I notice the man watching me.

I tried to get up and button my pants, but I was too full.

"I considered what you said about your sister," he said. "But can she act?"

"Oh yes sir, we have always played make believe. She can convince anyone she is sad or happy, even when she isn't."

"Well, I am producing a movie soon that will feature a latina lead. She'd have to learn English. I can't make any promises but I can put her up in New York close to one of my production offices for a few months and get her English and acting lessons. Then we'll fly her out to Los Angeles and see..."

"Thank you, sir!" I said.

He gave me a business card that said Frank Alvarez, and began walking away. Then he turned and said, "you go with her too, she'll need an advocate like you."

My family was so excited we could barely speak, only dance around the house. Mother advised Bella not to get her hopes up, but it was clear that she herself was already hoping more than she wanted to.

I told Bella I wouldn't go. I said I had to take care of mother and father.

"But you must," she said.

"No, you can't convince me. My life is here."

She thought for a long time, before saying, "In New York you can try famous American food, all of it you want. I'll make sure Mr. Alvarez let's us eat at fancy restaurants."

"Promise?" I said.

My head filled with thoughts of exotic food. My stomach began to growl.

"I'll pack my bags," I said.