You’re gorgeous!”
“Thanks, but guys like little skinny girls…and hello?” I grabbed at my fat roll and laughed.
“Not all guys like skinny women, babe. Some guys love a thick woman. They like a little junk in the trunk.” She popped her butt out in emphasis. “We call them chubby chasers.”
I laughed so hard I almost pissed myself. Chubby chasers?Thank God I had an awesome sense of humo r about all this. Of course, I always have. Whenever I watched a comedian on TV I always laughed at the fat jokes. Why not? They’re funny and since I’m a fat girl I’m allowed to either laugh or be offended. Getting mad would be a waste of my time. If I got offended every time someone said something funny about fat people I’d spend my life pissed off.
Shannon’s a plus size girl, too, technically, except she’s the kind of plus size that barely registers on the fat-o-meter. She’s stuck in between worlds…too skinny to be in the fat girl club, but too fat to be skinny. She was only considered plus size because her jeans had a double digit size. Instead of calling her a big girl we just called her thick. Personally, I laughed in the face of size fourteen!
She has long auburn hair that never seems to be in control and pretty hazel eyes that show her sweetness, which was the only way you’d see it. Her height gave her a slimmer appearance, while her firecracker attitude and the random trickle of freckles across her cheeks matched the red in her hair. I’m sure her sarcastic come backs made high school a breeze for her, but still, her witty smartass nature won me over. I couldn’t ask for a better best friend.
I met her three years ago when she first came into Franklin’s looking for a job and we’ve been inseparable since. She’s a year younger than me and acted like the unruly little sister that I never had. She was my first real friend and even though I’ve never said it, I think she knew it.
We finished our uplifting “power to the fat girls” conversation and started getting everything ready for game night. Every Wednesday night a group of our friends came over and we had a few drinks and played board games.
There were six of us all together. Me and Shannon, of course, and then there was Erin, who was tall and bronze with long black hair. We called her our beautiful Indian friend, but she was made to be a plus size model.
There was Anna, who was the shortie of the group—five-foot-one, round, and adorable with shoulder length dark hair and green cat eyes that I’m sure you could see in the dark. Her soon to be veterinary status was perfect for her sweet and giggly personality. A rabid dog would love on Anna. The response she got from animals was freaky, so we all called her the pet detective.
Meg was the skinny blonde in the group. She wasn’t your average skinny blonde, though. She was different. We liked to call Meg, “a fat girl stuck in a skinny girl’s body.” She may look like the cheerleader you’d love to hate, but she had the personality of the sweet round band geek.
Last, but never the least, was Randy. He was the girlie one in the group and the only one who was getting any action in the sex department. Occasionally, he brought along a new boy toy, but most of the time he kept his love life at the gay club down the street, which, by the way, was the best place to have a good time around here.
Once everyone showed up to game night, we got in an all-out Phase 10 war followed by a very long game of perverted Scrabbl e . Shannon, of course, blabbed about my date with a hot stranger, which had Randy fanning himself.
“Oh, honey, there ain’t nothing like some hot stranger sex! Let me tell you!”
We all laughed even though I doubted any of us, with the exception of Randy, knew anything about stranger sex.
It felt like a whole other day when I finally laid my head on my pillow at one in the morning. I didn’t dream that night and as soon as I closed my eyes to go to sleep the