by Alona Jarden
By
Alona Jarden
Copyright & Disclaimer
Copyright © 2019 by Alona Jarden
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Alona Jarden asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. Alona Jarden has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate. Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners.
The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.
This book contains elements issues of obesity, as well as self image. This book contains scenes with implied sexual content and adult language; it is intended for mature readers. Do not read this if it’s not legal for you under the laws of your country.
Table of Content
Copyright & Disclaimer
Table of Content
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
A Note From the Author
Giving Thanks
More Books by Alona Jarden
Chapter 1
Michelle
I opened my eyes to yet another morning of the routine life I created for myself.
With a slight effort, I reached for the dresser next to my bed and quickly opened the screen lock on my phone. I wanted to take a peek at my messenger chat with Noel, as I was used to doing at the beginning of every new day.
"Awake yet?"
"Did you get up?"
"Are you awake? Because I'm awake."
"Michelle? What's going on? Are you awake?"
"Michelle?"
"Michelle? What's the schedule for today?"
A hilariously hysteric set of text messages awaited me, followed by another sequence of question marks.
"I just got up, psycho. I'll get ready quickly and be on my way to you soon enough." I stretched my weary body and went on, typing my morning duties to her.
"There are no grandiose plans for today. Just a few staff meetings, one important conversation at noon with the customer from Japan, and it's important that we also make time to discuss the company's holiday toast."
"Are you coming directly here?" she responded almost immediately.
"No. Come to think of it, I'll make a quick stop at a support group meeting first, and then I'll come to the office," I wrote to her, knowing from our long-lasting friendship that there was no point in waiting for another response.
It would be a crime to just call Noel my lifelong best friend. When I try to think about the role she plays in my life, I realize that she's been the cornerstone on which I've always relied on.
We were placed side by side on the carpet on our first day of kindergarten, and within seconds, we realized that we were the only ones who came dressed in red while literally, all the other girls showed up wearing fluffy white dresses.
I think that even as a young girl, I managed to see her as the epitome of femininity beauty. I remember so very clearly how I was aching to be by her side. I used to spend hours watching her from afar, rush to sit beside her when the teacher wanted us to find a place in the circle, and I also remember not being the only one to do so.
As cliché as it might sounds, Noel was the prettiest girl in kindergarten, and I, like everyone else, wanted to be the one to play with her.
Even though we were a little embarrassed at first, as the days went by, the fact that we were made to be together forever became clear. Even the teacher used to comment that we were the only ones who understood each other's humor and commented that everyone would be better off putting us together for the various activities. Little did she know that we took her recommendation for the rest of our lives.
Noel's parents used to work late almost every day, and since my mother was a stay-at-home mom, we would have her over at our house for hours and hours until her parents picked her up and broke our hearts.
Together with my mom, we would measure swivel dresses, play around with my mom’s massive shoe collection, trying to match the correct heel for each dress, and experiment with putting on our makeup.
Back in those days, Noel was like the sister I never had, and I loved her very much.
I still loved her, but I hate reminiscing about those days. Along with the many hours of fun I shared with Noel, my mother's extraordinary beauty also comes to my mind. I remember with painful longing how she would proudly walk around with me from one place to another and how she would take advantage of every opportunity to point out the similarities between the two of us. She would stretch her pretty smile on her face and say how she loves hearing that I look like her, as it is the best compliment she could ever get, after which she would pull me closer, tell me that I was the most beautiful girl in the world, and wrap me in her warm and comforting hug.
As long as I was smashed between her arms and while her flattering words of pride still echoed in my ears, I felt the strong connection between us. But I always feared that it was based on shaky ground.
As the years passed and the pounds started increasing around my waist and neck, I, unfortunately, realized that I was right. That unconditional comforting connection I shared with my mother started loosening up.
She never said the exact words, but she didn’t need to. No matter what she did, I felt fat next to her, and I found the comfort I was missing in the company of Noel, which never made me feel anything other than wanted, loved and adored.
In the early years of our friendship, when weight wasn’t yet the major topic of conversation in our home, I set out to do as my mother pleased. I tried my hardest to make her laugh and was particularly careful not to say anything that would turn her wrath toward me, for fear that we would get into a great fight, one that would jeopardize our friendship in a way I couldn’t bear to think about.
I grew up since then. I matured, and so did Noel and our friendship. Along the way, I was glad to see that she was there for me just as I was there for her, if not more.
In elementary school, when I started to fill up a little more than the other girls around me, Noel kept an eye out for me. She would bravely reply to all the boys who laughed at my undefined shape. She would squeeze in front of everyone on school trips so that she could save me a seat beside her on the back of the bus and never made me feel like an unwanted third wheel at parties or other class
activities, even when she was there with a date.
I think that my special appreciation for her was mainly due to the fact that deep down, I knew that I actually was an addendum to Noel's life.
I clung to her popularity during the years of elementary school, went on doing so throughout middle school, high school and life in general.
Thanks to her, I have no harsh memories of being harassed, boycotted or worse things that other girls who were overweight like me suffered.
As an adult, Noel turned out to be a big career woman and as for me? I just turned out to be a big woman, still clinging to her best friends' success.
I guess some things never change.
Over the years, I managed to reach two hundred and sixty pounds, or at least that was my weight the last time I checked, which was forever ago.
I put my phone back on the dresser and prepared myself mentally and physically for my morning ceremony of getting out of bed.
From past experience, I learned that if the device is anywhere near me when I battle my way to standing up, it will undoubtedly fall to the ground and break. I placed it safely on the dresser and only then took a deep breath and took off.
I started the ceremony by rolling my big body sideways on the bed and then, using rhythmic bouncy shakes, I popped my feet closer and closer to the floor.
"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is my morning exercise!" I laughed out loud at myself, once I was able to sit upright. "Thank you all for being here. I'll see you again tomorrow. Same time, same whale-woman, but a completely different day."
I gasped for air as the effort of getting up was a lot and rushed to the shower to prepare for a new day at Noel's corporate offices, where I rocked as her personal assistant slash manager.
The stream of lukewarm water washed away the sweat and dirt that clung on during the night and as always, I tried to finish soaping myself as quickly as possible. I always hated showering. No, no. I was disgusted by it! I just couldn’t bear it, but I had no choice. After all, as my mother always said, no one else was going to do it for me. Right?
"What in God's name are you looking at?" I scolded my reflection in the mirror when, for a split second, I felt judged by it. "Do you think you're better than me?" I sneered and stretched a smile on my face. A fake smile, but at least a smile I was willing to leave home with.
Over the years, I tried a variety of ways to lose weight and they all brought me back to the same starting point. Actually, no, that's not entirely accurate. None of them brought me back to the same starting point, because each of the diets that promised me weight loss left me feeling a little more like a terrible failure when they failed to provide success. Each of them made it clear that my willpower strives to zero when it came to refusing carbs or standing firm against various kinds of sweets.
Time after time, one diet after another, I found that although I was larger than most women in the city, attempting to live healthy in all the different ways I tried was bigger than me.
I know that it's not a solution, but I actually stopped caring about every mole that was over-growing and taught myself to ignore the various pains that were affecting my life. The idea of sitting in front of a doctor was too much for me.
Why should I, anyway? I already know what they have to say to me. Obesity. They seem to go to medical school, through internship and then to specialize in various fields of medicine just to say that everything in my life is caused by my obesity.
A suspicious beauty mark? Obesity.
Headaches? Obesity.
An ear infection? Obesity.
Some unspecified abdominal pain? Wow, that can be the cause of a big celebration for them, as it really actually might be caused by obesity. Little do they care that it could just as well be unrelated. They couldn’t bother checking.
Obesity!
Yes, that's right. In terms of modern medicine, I had no reason to be in the doctors' office, because all I needed to do in order to know that I was obese, was to look in the mirror, so I avoided the GP for years and learned to cope with my health challenges without humiliating myself in the doctors' office.
When I finished my shower, my breakfast was already waiting outside my door in a big brown bag. My mother always said that breakfast is the most important of all the meals of the day, so as I grew older, I made sure to make it count.
"Three butter croissants, three chocolate croissants, a finely chopped vegetable salad, a vegetable omelet and a pint of freshly squeezed orange & carrot juice.
Have a magical day, my favorite customer!"
The note, attached to my regular breakfast delivery bag, turned my fake smile into a real one and I didn't need long to completely devour all its content.
Just minutes later, I put the napkins, which were all that was left from my breakfast, into the trash can, got my handbag, and headed out to the first stop of my day.
"Good morning everyone, sorry I'm late." I threw some polite words I didn't really mean to the weight loss support group members and found a vacant seat to settle in.
"It's all right, Michelle. You arrived just in time." Janice, the little-less-than-obese group guide, addressed my apology and looked back at Gia, who was probably in the middle of yet another story about the exciting complex relationship she had with the various food dishes in her life. "You can go on now," Janice gestured toward Gia, and she did. My God, did she go on, and on, and on…
For long, excruciating minutes I sat listening to Gia talk about her night binging, the crises she dealt with, the self-disappointment she felt for not meeting her goals and the undenied feelings that fill her up each time she succumbs to the temptation and shoves a piece of cake, or nine to be precise, into her mouth.
I bailed out on all the weight loss methods, but I kept going to the morning meetings. Only to the morning sessions!
I can't stress enough how much I hated going to the evening sessions. I tried, but I just didn't find the self-assurance I was looking for in them, while I easily found it in the morning sessions.
I sat and looked around, happy and full of the satisfaction I had come there looking for.
All those fatsos were leaning uncomfortably in their chairs, listing how all of them couldn't find a way to make something of their lives.
They each sighed in frustration once they realized again and again that they had eaten every good opportunity that came their way until they had nothing left to do, other than to come to the morning meetings and to share with their brothers-in-fat the difficulties they were experiencing.
I didn't even need to wonder why I loved going there so much. I stopped trying to maintain a healthy lifestyle for quite a while. I didn’t go there to strive to lose any of my weight, and I didn’t seek inspiration from them. I kept going there because it made me feel good about myself. Because it was easy and pleasant to hear that group of losers whining about how obesity was preventing them from achieving their goals in life while knowing that from there, I was going straight out to my senior position, which was paying me a large amount of money each month, and unlike them, I actually did something with my life.
I gave the evening sessions a chance, but it didn't help my state of mind. Not like the morning sessions in any case.
The people who attended the evening weight loss support group session were not so different than me, and I found it difficult to listen to them with any sense of superiority. Actually, if I'm being totally honest, I left the few meetings I attended and sank into a deep depression.
There were businesswomen, doctors, lawyers, teachers, and others who were busy building themselves during business hours, yet still found time to fight the fat monster that nibbled everything around them in the evening.
Facing them made me feel fragile and weak, so I chose to attend the morning sessions, where I could more easily feel better than anyone around me, despite the high percentage of fat on my body, which basically made me just as bad as them.
"...but I didn't touch it! I took the trays from the p
izza delivery guy, slammed the door and put the boxes on the countertop. I left them there until morning. I swear I didn't even smell them, " Gia finished sharing her dubious victory over the dough triangles, and everyone applauded her.
"Interesting." I nodded. "I mean… it's a miserable technique, but an interesting one, I'll give you that." Everyone's eyes turned to stare at me as I realized I had blurted the words out loud rather than merely reciting them silently in my head like I'd intended to do.
"And what do you mean by that?" Janice, the grumpy group guide asked, trying to make sense of my blurting.
"I didn’t… I mean, I did, but I… ahh..." I hoped they wouldn't force me to explain what I meant, but they all kept staring at me, so I went on mumbling away. "I didn't mean that. What I meant to say is well done, Gia. It's really amazing that you didn't touch those pizzas. It had pepperoni, you say? Bravo!" I tried to pull the group into another wave of applause in admiration of Gia's minor achievement in life and failed.
"What technique did you mean?" Apparently, Janice had had enough of my sarcastic comments emitted from time to time and insisted I supply a satisfactory explanation.
"I was talking nonsense, alright? I didn't mean to say technique. It just…"
"Just what? What technique were you talking about?" Gia crossed her arms in anger and turned her insulted look to me. As if I cared about her feelings being hurt.
"You're all making a big deal out of nothing. I just realized that cold pizza is disgusting and if you failed to resist the temptation of ordering pizza, at least you had the wits to turn it disgusting, so you wouldn't be tempted to eat it, that's all." I breathed a sigh of relief when I found a reasonable explanation that I completely made up while trying hard not to mention that I simply thought that she was stupid.
"Ahh... yeah... that... That was my intention all along." Gia released her defensive pose with her arms crossed, and I hoped that the meeting would continue as usual, but it didn’t.