Getting Waisted by Monica Parker Read Free Book Online Page B

Fat
    Diet #6 The Stillman Diet
    Cost My pride
    Weight lost 12 pounds
    Weight gained 16 pounds
    I was eighteen and scarfing ham, chicken, beef strips, and every other type of former farm animal, all cooked with no oil, no sauce, and no taste because a Dr. Irwin Stillman had a new diet book that was all the rage, filled with promises of a leaner body just from eating a couple of hay-wagons worth of rump roasts. The monotonous chowing down on nothing but meat bored me stupid. Nonetheless, I gnawed like a zealot on those beef bones because everyone I knew except me had someone, and I needed to change that channel.
    Every weekend my mother was off playing tournament bridge or being a better grandmother than an actual mother. She meant well, but she simply didn’t have the Betty Crocker/Donna Reed gene. Seeing as I didn’t date, she didn’t think she had anything to worry about on the home front; she just figured I’d be hanging out with my other sad-sack girlfriends, inhaling pizza and ice cream. It no longer really mattered to me whether she was home or not; her absences meant I had the apartment to myself and I became notorious for my weekend open houses, as everyone knew my apartment was an adult-free zone. Cars lined my street, unloading hordes of young people, mostly kids I didn’t know, and when the neighbors complained to my mother about the noise, she blew off the criticism by responding, “Call me if it ever gets quiet, then I’ll know they’re up to no good.” She was actually thrilled to hear I was popular.
    Being up to no good was, and still is, a teenage art form and my peers and I had it down to a science. To compensate for my lack of romance, I became a very skilled ringmaster of all things social, including orchestrating pizza deliveries and getting other people to pay for them. My newly discovered talent for matchmaking evolved into figuring out how long my mother’s bedroom could be used for Seven Minutes in Heaven-style games. I didn’t know it but I was exhibiting all the skills required to become a successful madam.
    After the parties ended and I was left to pick up the detritus, the phone always rang with more than one of my friends, male and female, calling to get my guidance on whatever romantic entanglement was at hand. I was everyone’s go-to girl for love advice and I was really good at it, which was ridiculous seeing as I’d never even had a boyfriend, just lots and lots of boy friends . Didn’t they know I was making this stuff up?
    Having given my singledom a lot of thought, I decided that losing my virginity was the key to becoming a woman. All my puppy fat would melt away and return to the puppy from whence it came and I would be desirable. With no one I could trust with my big plan, and therefore no one to warn me that this was a really bone-headed idea, I forged ahead and called my best guy pal Ben. I asked him if he wanted to hang out with some friends since there was no way I was going to give him any clues as to my agenda in case he freaked out and refused. Next I called Vally, who was “honored and excited to be part of my sexual awakening.” I felt myself cringe when she said that out loud, but the plan was on. Vally was always up for an adventure, especially if it had to do with boys and sex. I, however, was scared to death.
    But I did know there was no way anyone could get close to doing“it” with me while I was wearing my iron underwear; I was locked up tighter than a woman on death row. I unshackled myself from my long-line bra, prayed for the Jaws of Life to help release me from my triple-elasticized panty girdle, and I was open for business.
    We were parked above a skating rink on the edge of a bluff also known as “Makeout Mountain: Over 1 billion served”; I desperately hoped to join in the tradition. Vally was in the front seat breathing heavily with some new guy called Barry, and I was in the back with Ben, who was already weirded out that we were on a double