“Missy?”
They both turned to find Eleanor Lyons, their fifth grade teacher. For only half a year.
“Hi, Ms. Ly—” Missy stopped short. She had been a grown woman for awhile now and it seemed silly to call this woman by her last name like they were still in fifth grade, especially when—
“Melissa, you can call me Eleanor. You’re a grown woman.”
The way Eleanor said grown, Missy knew she wasn’t referring to her age. It was a thinly veiled crack at her weight, which Missy thought was incredible given the setting.
“Still bitter, huh?” Missy folded her arms.
Eleanor laughed but it sounded forced. “Of course not. That was a long time ago, and you and Karen were so little. How could I blame you?”
But she had blamed them, and Missy could tell she still did. Missy and Karen had caught her pushing Kyle O’Houlihan in the hallway. It was during the middle of class, so Eleanor must have thought nobody would see her. Looking back now, Missy realized that Kyle had been a real handful but that still didn’t excuse the shove. They had both reported it to the principal and Eleanor had been promptly fired, despite her argument that she’d only put a hand on Kyle’s shoulder to get his attention and the kid had purposely fallen and put on an act to get her in trouble.
Eleanor turned to Karen. “How did, you-know-what go?”
Missy had no idea what they were talking about. Karen’s eyes got wide. “Uh, fine.”
Karen checked her phone for the time. “We better go find a seat.”
Eleanor watched them as Karen ushered Missy toward the rows of folding chairs that were lined up and facing the glass wall.
“What was that all about?” Missy asked, feeling her old teacher’s eyes on them.
“Eleanor shared her diet with me a couple weeks ago and I said I’d try it.”
“It worked?”
Karen hesitated. “Sorry, Miss, but she shared it in confidence with me so I can’t tell you what it was.”
Missy was taken aback. It seemed ridiculous that Karen would keep this from her, especially since Eleanor had brought it up in the first place with her standing right there. But Diet Club had so many rules.
“Let’s sit here.” Karen signaled at two chairs on the end of a row. “I’m going to get another drink, do you want one?”
Missy had barely sipped her Vitamin Water. “No thanks.”
Karen coughed a few times into the crook of her arm. “I can’t get rid of this cough.”
Which reminded Missy. “So you had the flu last week? In the hallway you said—”
Karen eyes darted around, presumably looking for Abella. “Miss, I needed a mental health day last week. I wasn’t sick.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t understand.” Karen looked at her miserably. “Since the firm merged with that other one, it’s a totally different environment.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’ve been working eleven hours day non-stop for two months.” Karen shook her head. “I preferred things when we were small, even a mid-sized firm. Now we’re a big corporation. I hate it.”
“That’s awful.” Missy had been lucky in work since graduating college. She’d spent all her time at Books and Crannies, doing what she loved: talking about books and selling them and helping people find ones they would really enjoy. Even better, she got to work with Noreen, her best friend.
“Yes, work life is brutal right now.”
“How’s the love life? Seeing anybody?” Missy asked, wincing inwardly once the words were out. Karen hadn’t mentioned a boyfriend or dating in any of their email or Facebook exchanges the last couple of years. A few years ago, she’d been briefly engaged to Ron Moore. She and Ron had met in their late twenties. Missy always got the impression that Ron was head-over-heels about her, but that Karen didn’t quite feel as strongly for him. They’d broken off the engagement three years ago. Karen had been vague on details at the time and Missy didn’t want to pry. Then the usual happened: a few months passed before they spoke again and by that time Missy felt like the ship had sailed to discuss that topic.
Just going off Karen’s mixed expression, Missy figured her friend hadn’t had much success in her love life. It was a shame, because Karen was sweet and kind and pretty and would have made anybody a good partner. There was no other reason for her to be alone except her weight, a thought that totally depressed Missy.
Karen opened her mouth to speak, but stopped short. Missy felt horrible, knowing she had asked a bad question. Well, at least Karen could take comfort in the fact that Missy was about as close to the altar as she was. She hadn’t been out on a date in over a year, and spent idle time thinking about her high school sweetheart, Tyler Brock, the chief detective in Grove City and still married, emphasis on the word still. He and his wife had separated but were trying to work it out. She had no details other than that.
Karen’s mouth was still open. She looked like she was going to say something, but before she could, she broke into another hacking fit.
“Jeez, Karen, are you okay?” That cough did not sound good.
“I guess I am coming down with something.” Karen grabbed at her stomach. “Honestly, Miss, not to overshare, but I’m having stomach problems. You know?”
“Ah.”
Karen nodded. “Everything is just going right through—” She coughed again.
“What diet are you on?” Missy asked. “Maybe it’s not agreeing with you?”
Karen shook her head. “Can’t tell you, it’s the one Eleanor…”
Missy held up her hand. “Don’t tell me.”
Karen clutched her stomach. “I hate to leave you alone but right now I have to, uh, go.”
“Oh that’s too bad.”
Karen nodded. “Save my seat?”
“Of course.”
“Thanks.”
Missy watched Karen hurry off. Before her friend could even leave the room to get to the bathroom, though, another woman Missy didn’t recognize stopped her. She was tall, blonde, and buxom. She wore a v-neck t-shirt and a bra that gave her a mile of cleavage.
Missy was about to turn back around when she saw the woman latch onto Karen’s arm, not letting her go. From this distance, Missy couldn’t really see the expression on Karen’s face but her body language was plain as day.
She and this woman were arguing about something. Missy wondered what it could be about. Karen was kind-hearted and didn’t have a mean bone in her body. Even though Abella, the shareholder at her firm, had been incredibly rude to her face, Karen had half-laughed it off later. And somehow, after getting Eleanor fired from her teaching job, Karen had befriended the woman.
Karen pointed in the woman’s face, spat out some words, then wrenched her arm out of the woman’s grip before storming off. The tall blonde watched her leave the room, and even took a step to follow, but stopped before she got to the door. Slowly, she turned and headed for the folding chairs. Missy dropped her eyes quickly and slowly spun around in her seat so it wasn’t obvious that she’d been watching.
The rest of the women filed in and took their seats. Missy did a quick headcount. There were two columns and seven rows of chairs. Each half row had five people in it, which meant there were seventy people in here.
As if they were all on a timer, every woman stopped talking in time for a huge spotlight to snap on. The contrast to the gloom actually hurt, forcing Missy to shield her eyes and squint. The other women clapped and cheered, rising out of their seats to applaud Mrs. Butterworth.
She was a big woman. Missy felt for her. No one got that large by eating alone. Genetics played such a huge factor in that equation, though that didn’t explain Missy’s own situation. Both her parents and all her grandparents had been trim, some of them actually on the slight side. Maybe she’d gotten the recessive gene that had been lurking for a long time in the family’s DNA, ready to spring its deadly trap on the unsuspecting. Or maybe, she just needed to eat less…but
she didn’t know how she could. When she paid attention to her diet, she made sure to eat between fifteen hundred and eighteen hundred calories a day, which was hardly a lot. And even when she cheated (which was rare these days), she cheated carefully and infrequently—
“Thank you all for coming.” Mrs. Butterworth pushed a rolling walker ahead of her as she slowly made her way into the spotlight to stand behind the podium where a microphone was set up. “Before we get to the substance of the meeting, I would like to take a moment to welcome the newest member of our family: Melissa DeMeanor.”
Missy hadn’t been expecting this. Feeling self-conscious in her old jeans that were too tight in the waist, she stood and gave a little half-wave.
“We do hope you’ll share your story with us, Missy, as it is our philosophy that we can all learn from one another,” Mrs. Butterworth said.
It took Missy a moment to realize Mrs. Butterworth was asking her to share right now. But when one of the servers politely tapped her on the shoulder with a wireless microphone, she got the picture.
“Oh. Thank you.”
“Into the mike, dear,” Mrs. Butterworth said.
“Oh. Thank you!” Her voice boomed across the ballroom and the mike squeaked. “Sorry.” She smiled and laughed. As she took in the audience, she saw Abella turned in her chair ahead, watching her with lizard-like eyes. Eleanor, her old fifth grade teacher, was frowning at her.
“Hi, I’m Melissa DeMeanor, but everybody calls me Missy, for obvious reasons.” This drew some polite laughter from the audience. “I’ve known Karen since we were little girls, going to grade school together.”
At the mention of Karen, Missy saw the tall-blond, seated two rows ahead, turn around fully in her seat. She couldn’t read the woman’s expression.
“In a way, it makes sense that Karen would invite me in because for as long as we’ve known each other, we’ve both struggled with our weight.”
“Tell us about it,” Mrs. Butterworth said.
Missy hated talking about her weight, even in what was supposed to be a safe, supportive environment like this. But she didn’t feel comfortable here, not with Eleanor, Abella, and now also the tall blonde woman staring at her.
“I’ll bet everybody has felt this way at one point or another, but I feel like the deck is stacked against me.” Missy tried to calm down. She didn’t like being the center of attention—never had. “I’ve watched what other people eat and I’ve eaten the same things in the same portions, but they stay skinny and I just put weight on. I get heavier just walking past a bakery.”
“We know what you mean!” somebody in the front row shouted, and everybody cheered. Which was a little strange because Missy hadn’t been trying to rally anybody, but still it made her feel better.
“Thanks. Well, I don’t want to complain or make excuses. My weight is my weight. As the years go by, I get used to who I am and I don’t let my weight define me, but still, I’d like to get rid of it so I can be healthier.”
“Hear, hear, Missy,” Mrs. Butterworth said. “Thank you for sharing your story.”
The server tapped Missy on the shoulder again, and she handed the mike off. She was grateful Mrs. Butterworth had kept the meeting on track, because she had run out of things to say.
“Now then.” Mrs. Butterworth grew serious. “Shifting gears to a much more serious, grievous matter. I myself cannot believe I’m saying this, but one of our members has broken the very first rule of Diet Club.”
A total, all-consuming silence fell over the crowd. Mrs. Butterworth let that silence stretch to the toe-curling, grimacing awkward stage, to the point where the members were beginning to look at each other, hoping someone would break the silence.
Mrs. Butterworth finally did. “Women in general are constantly judged by how we appear. But we, we women of weight, we are under intense and dismissive scrutiny.” Mrs. Butterworth paused dramatically again. “No one can truly understand what it is like to be us, what it is like to be seen as disgusting, or just as bad, to be overlooked, to be ignored because we are overweight. That attitude burrows deep into our bones and permeates our sense of self and self-worth.
“I started this club almost five years ago now so that women would have a safe place. A home away from home, where they could let their guard down and share their journey with other women. A place where there would be no judgment and create a network of support strong enough to bolster us through those all-too-frequent, incredibly difficult days. We’ve all been there. We’ve all heard the snickers in the hallway, coming from men who don’t even have the common decency to wait until we’re out of earshot.
“And the first tenet—the most important principle that governs us—has been violated. One of our members has revealed the identity of another member to an outsider.”
Missy thought they were taking the whole top secret thing a bit far. They were just participating in a Diet Club, not members of the Knights Templar. She half-expected to see Masonic imagery trotted out or robed figures appear and these thoughts would have made her laugh—
Until the rest of the women present gasped.
They were all shocked that one in their league had broken the first rule of Diet Club. Nobody was supposed to talk about Diet Club.
Missy believed in trust and never breaking confidence and would hold herself to the standards Mrs. Butterworth expected. But she never for a moment expected everyone else to do the same. People loved to gossip, so there would always be gossip. That was just how people were. If you didn’t want something making the rounds, then you had better keep it to yourself.
“Now, believe me, we will identify the member who divulged another member’s identity,” Mrs. Butterworth said. “We are taking this seriously. But if you’re here tonight and throw yourself upon the mercy of the group, we will consider being lenient.”
Mrs. Butterworth moved the mike away from her mouth and through narrowed eyes peered out at the crowd. She started on her left and swept across the ballroom, lingering here and there. It reminded Missy of her nasty grade school teachers—actually, reminded her of the stern Eleanor Lyons. That woman had watched the fifth-graders like a hawk, her gaze fierce.
Mrs. Butterworth completed the first sweep and just when Missy thought it was over, the woman swept her eyes back in the other direction, like a lighthouse suddenly changing its orientation. Even though Missy couldn’t be guilty of this infraction since this was her first meeting, she still squirmed under Mrs. Butterworth’s intense stare as the older woman’s eyes slowly moved over her.
“Very well,” Mrs. Butterworth said. “You’ve made your decision. And I’ve made mine. You will be banished from this group once I know who you are.”
Missy checked her phone. It had been five minutes since Karen had gone to the bathroom. Missy wondered if her friend was alright. Part of her wanted to get up to check on Karen—not that she knew where the bathroom was—but it would look suspicious if she got up and left the room at this very moment when Mrs. Butterworth was ready to pass serious judgment on somebody.
Eventually Mrs. Butterworth moved on to the next agenda item. She asked members to come forward with success stories, and a long line formed. Missy almost groaned. She had been to diet clubs like this before where members gloated over losing a few pounds. To her, it seemed half the thrill for these people was just getting praise from everybody else. And judging by how long the line was, Missy knew they would be talking for awhile.
The first woman took Mrs. Butterworth’s place behind the podium. She was medium height, small in the waist but significantly bigger in the hips and thighs. Missy would have actually killed for her figure.
“Hi, everybody. I wanted to give my update. One month ago I started the Baby Food Diet.”
Missy sat forward, thinking she’d misheard the woman.
“It’s working really well. I puree everything on Sunday afternoon. It takes a few hours but then I’ve got all my meals for the week ready.”
Missy was
still not believing what the woman was saying. Did she really just eat baby food?
“Of course, the portion control plays a big part too. One jar per meal, four to five meals per day.” She gripped her love handles. “The pounds have just melted away.”
Missy wondered how long a person could sustain themselves on pureed food and at so few calories. She ate breakfast around seven-thirty and was usually ravenous by nine.
The next woman came to the podium. She was round everywhere and had a friendly smile.
“I know what you’re all going to say, but I really wanted to share…the cotton ball diet works.”
Missy’s jaw dropped. Cotton ball surely had to be a euphemism for something else.
“You just eat a few cotton balls before every meal. They really make you feel full…”
Missy looked around the room, expecting everyone else to be incredulous. But the members acted like this was normal. They were adhering to one of the basic tenets of Diet Club: no judgment.
The next woman that came up smiled and everybody applauded her. She was medium height and average size, so the cheers suggested she’d achieved significant weight loss.
“I’ve figured out the secret to weight loss.” She beamed a bright smile and paused dramatically. The women around Missy scooted forward to the edge of their seats.
“Two things.” The women held up her pointer and middle finger. “Diet and exercise. That’s it.”
A few people booed playfully but the rest clapped. “Way to go, Alex!”
The members started chanting Alex’s name. She basked in their applause for a moment, then held out her palms for quiet.
“Seriously, that’s all it takes. Diet and exercise. I don’t try to cut out foods, I just try to restrict intake, and I make sure to exercise every day. When I exercise, I don’t want to eat junk food, it’s like my body craves good food.”
Missy nodded. She’d experienced the same thing since she’d joined WiredFit. The crazy exercises, as difficult as they were, were actually fun and exhausted her so she slept soundly every night. And when she got hungry, she found herself reaching for a salad or an apple for a snack instead of her favorite potato chips. She joined in the applause for Alex.
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