“What have you learned about women when they are considered fat in our society?” Dr. Grainger asked.
“Women have waged wars on fat. They abolish fat out of their diets, and surgically remove fat from their bodies as they engage in skirmishes against thighs, stomachs, and buttocks. They battle the connection between thin, young, and vivacious while being bombarded with messages that fat is old, sluggish, and irresponsible.”
“You can’t mean that everyone you met projected this opinion?” Dr. Ross interjected.
Robbie felt a smile form. She nodded while she spoke and used her hands for expression, careful to keep them below her chin, so the committee could see her face clearly. “On one of my excursions, a young boy pointed to me and told his mother that I was a Fat Lady. He was right. But his mother also pointed out other members of our society, the elderly, the thin, and the young. She showed respect for me as a person and passed it on to her son.”
The next hour and a half were grueling, but Robbie knew her answers had depth and passion because she had experienced some of the same emotions that women who live with obesity everyday of their lives experienced in their roles as mothers, wives, and employees.
“But you must admit that our population has an obesity crisis. It is all over the news.” Dr. Leddy looked out across the small audience.
Robbie shifted her weight and centered her stance. “Yes, and the practice of telling people to lose weight in order to improve their health isn’t working.”
“What would you suggest?” Dr. Parker asked as he scanned a page of her manuscript.
“Because my study focuses on women, I believe that women will make things happen by examining the reason we are uncomfortable with our weight and reclaim our bodies making them our personal business and not society’s business. When we accept a realistic evaluation of our body, we can build an accurate sense of self. We will address the false stereotypes that fat women are ugly, lazy, and stupid, which are now used to oppress and discriminate against them.”
Robbie heard Sharon’s quiet “yes” from the audience.
“That’s idealistic. Perhaps your field study research is anecdotal.” Dr. Parker’s knee bounced up and down under the table.
“Yes, you may consider my field study as anecdotal because I discovered that I cannot walk in another person’s body. I do not have the day-to-day, hour-to-hour challenges that the women in my research group have faced over their lifetime.” Robbie put her hand on her heart. “I can share that I met a man who loved his wife, whose body type was considered obese. He loved her everyday of their lives until they were separated by death. I can only hope that one day I will be mature enough to also experience unconditional love and acceptance of who I am. I would not have discovered this man without this research. It has been my most prized experience.”
“Thank you, Ms. Smith. We’ll take our ten-minute break now,” Dr. Parker announced. “I’m sorry, Ms. Smith, but you’ll have to be escorted to the restroom that you wish to use to change. Purely for security reasons, we can’t have anyone suggesting that this defense was not performed by the qualified student.”
“I understand. I’ll get my bag.” Robbie turned around and was met by a cold, dark, lava-rock stare. She gripped her belly. Jake. He’d been there the whole time. She swallowed past bile in her throat. She breathed deeply, determined to finish what she had started. With her head held high, she licked her dry lips and nodded to him.
“It was you.” Jean Clifton stood from behind the committee table and peered over her glasses at Robbie and Jake.
Dr. Parker struck his gavel on the table. “Dr. Clifton?”
Robbie held her breath. She stood alone, sweating in the foam body, with all of her years and investment ready to flow down some invisible tunnel never to be retrieved again.
Dr. Clifton sat back into her chair, tapped her pen against her teeth, and a slow, thin, smile slid into place. “Go and change.”
Robbie’s knees buckled and she reached toward Jake, sitting straight-backed in the chair. The planes of his face filled with deep shadows. He didn’t offer assistance. She teetered. Her suitcase provided the support she needed. His hard brown eyes started at the top of her head and traveled down her body and back again to her face. The man who’d accused her of attempted theft on the first day they met was back. She knew she had played a dangerous game when she continued to become friends with Frank and Jake even though only her outer shell had been a lie.
“Jake, I’m sorry. I’ll explain later.”
He looked past her to the door held open by a familiar security man.
“Don’t tell Frank. I’ll tell him. I promise.” Her wheeled suitcase followed her out the door. Brad gave her a high-five and Sam gripped her hand and kissed her cheek when she passed their seats. Mavis blew her nose into a tissue. Sharon reached out and touched Robbie’s hand.
“You did it,” Margaret whispered. “I thought you weren’t going to antagonize the committee by dressing up.”
Robbie shrugged. “It felt right to be here in this shape. But I haven’t passed yet. I still had questions to answer.”
“Good luck,” Margaret said. “We’re here for you, no matter what happens.”
“I know.” Robbie followed the security guard to a staff washroom. He unlocked the door.
The restroom was filled with bright florescent light. She leaned against the wall and balanced up against the sink. While Robbie emerged out from under the foam body, the makeup, the glasses and wig, her thoughts were on Jake and Frank. She felt uneasy even when she argued with herself that Jake researched all of the time so he should be used to the many different approaches to a subject. While her heart jumped from normal to double-time just thinking about him and their fledgling friendship, she knew instinctively that she had to hide those feelings from Clifton if she was going to accomplish her goal and receive her degree.
When she emerged from the restroom, the security guard whistled. She accepted his much-needed boost to her confidence. She knew that she could still be failed and that a pass depended on the committee’s ability to accept her demonstration as well as her research.
When she opened the door to the examination room, the committee members nodded. Except Clifton, who seemed preoccupied but stretched her lips into a thin straight line. She averted her gaze from the back of the room. She couldn’t risk seeing Jake, allowing any regret to deter her from her goal.
Robbie produced her official student identification with her photograph.
“Excellent. Excellent,” Dr. Parker said. “Dr. Clifton?”
“Continue.” Jean Clifton tapped her pen and leaned back in her chair.
Robbie felt humbled by the personality that easily emerged. She smiled more readily and she moved with ease. When she was fat Robin, she worked harder to be accepted before she was heard and valued.
During the last minutes of a defense, it was tradition that the advisor would ask a question showcasing the student’s intellect and possibly sealing the passing grade.
Jean Clifton cleared her throat. “How do you think your field study has helped you understand society’s bias against size diversity when you can so easily remove the very thing that your research concludes that society is prejudiced against?” Jean paused for effect while she turned her focus to the male members of the committee. “Many women will never be the size our grad student, Ms. Smith, is right now.”
Robbie straightened and lifted her chin. “Thank you, Dr. Clifton, for asking this question. You said yourself that to walk for a little while in someone’s shoes is cliché. But I also found it an enlightening generalization. I’ve learned that people of size are constantly bruised physically by the small spaces that are all around us from chairs that are welded onto tables in fast-food restaurants, to small cubicles in department store change rooms. And t
hey are bruised mentally and emotionally every time someone polices the food that is eaten or the changes in their bodies caused by medication or comments on the impact of genetics. Without personal insults, I would not have understood life from that perspective. I’ve also learned how difficult it is to purchase clothing that has style and that when clothing off the rack doesn’t fit, how easily it was assumed to be my body’s problem rather than the manufacturer’s patterns.” Robbie paused and looked at each panel member. “But I’ve also learned that not everyone would want to be my real size. There are men and women who are starting a revolution. It is empowering to take up space, to be noticed, to be loved and recognized for who you are outside and inside. I met enlightened people who respected me in spite of my outward appearance.”
Jean Clifton nodded toward the back of the room and seemed to be preoccupied and fidgety. Dr. Parker asked if there were any further questions. The committee members shook their heads.
“In that case, I’ll ask Ms. Smith and the guests to leave the room so that the committee can confer,” Dr. Parker said.
“Ms. Smith, wait outside please and we’ll give you the results.” He looked toward the panel. “In thirty minutes?”
By the time she had exited the room, Jake was gone. Brad and Sam both waited and told her that she had done great.
“You really showed them how small-minded some people can be to big people,” Brad said.
“You said it, some people. There are others who love equally the inside and the outside of a person.” Robbie held onto her knowledge that Frank was his name and nature. A fair man. But Jake. What would he do?
Sam slung his arm around her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “You rocked. I’m guessing an A-plus for sure.”
She remembered other friendship kisses and her heart sank. Where was Jake? She was usually visiting Frank right now. If Jake was here, then Frank was alone.
Brad and Sam asked her to text them when she had the results. “You’ve got it. You’re on the list with my parents and these wonderful women.”
Mavis called, “Group hug.” The four women stood in a circle with their arms around each other. “I’d love to stay but the kids will be home from school soon. I’m the driver today so we all have to leave,” Mavis said.
“I’ll text you as soon as I have the results. Thank you so much for your constant support.” Robbie waved goodbye to the women.
Please hurry. At every thud from a door closing on its frame she gripped the handle of her suitcase tighter, vacillating between exhilaration and dread at the one the door when opened would reveal if she passed or failed. She had promised Frank and Jake that she’d be there and she wasn’t. She should have placed her intrinsic honesty before her need for personal experience and told them right in the beginning. She held onto Frank calling her Robbie, hoping that he knew and could advise her on how to make this up to Jake. What could be taking the committee so long?
She dropped onto a hardback chair in the corridor and watched students bustling to classes and to the library studying for final examinations. She hoped that she would no longer be a part of their angst, but she’d miss the opportunity to grow intellectually in a structured environment as well.
The door opened. “You may come in, please,” Dr. Grainger said.
Robbie squared her shoulders and lifted her chin as she pulled the wheeled suitcase containing the outer self that had helped her complete her invaluable research. She held her breath until she realized that her personal and intellectual growth fostered by the project would continue whether she had to do revisions or write a whole new paper. Her experiment had been good discipline and training for the real world. Whatever capacity she worked at in the future, she’d help find ways to hire the most qualified person and promote education for health and fitness in the workplace.
“Ms. Smith,” Dr. Parker said.
“Yes.” She licked her lips and then contracted her facial muscles that should form a smile while she kept her hand on her roller suitcase for support.
“Although your presentation was unconventional, the majority of the committee agrees that your paper is worthy of a pass with a few minor revisions. Please see my secretary for the final suggestions. Congratulations.” He stood and rounded the table. Stepping forward, he shook her hand, followed by the other committee members, including Dr. Clifton.
“Thank you. Thank you all and I especially need to thank you, Dr. Clifton. You are the best.” Robbie’s tension washed away her fake smile and her mouth felt as if it must have taken over her whole face. She palmed away tears that pooled in her eyes. It wasn’t easy to skip like a child pulling a roller case behind her, but she managed all the way to her car. This time she put the parking ticket beside the other one on her passenger seat. Tomorrow she’d pay both of them.
She called her mother from her cell phone. “Mail those party invitations.”
“Robbie, I’m proud of you. Can I tell your father or do you want to?”
“Is he around?”
“He has appointments this afternoon.”
“I’ll text him. Thanks, Mom, for your support. You know I couldn’t have done this without the two of you. I love you so much.”
Cars moved past her. She saw one slowing down and signaling to take her space when she left.
“We know, but it is nice to hear. What are you doing tonight?” Her mother’s voice echoed pride, and love filled Robbie’s heart.
“Not sure. But I need to visit Frank, the man in the care home and I need to tell my women’s group and I need to jump for joy. Got to go, Mom, someone wants my space. I’ll text Dad as soon as I get home.”
The road was slippery and she held onto the steering wheel and paid close attention to the traffic around her. She didn’t want to cause any of the drivers around her undue concern. She could be magnanimous because she passed.
She parked on the street in front of her house, then opened her cell phone and sent messages to her father, Mavis, Sharon, Margaret, then finally Brad and Sam. What a fortunate woman she was. After she lifted the suitcase from the trunk of the car, she turned and waved to Mrs. Mitchell. I never did call her and tell her about Robin. I wonder if she is okay? I will be a better neighbor.
When Robbie saw the blinking light on her answering machine, her stomach dropped. The number identified was the University of Regina. Jake had called moments before her defense started. Heart heavy, she pressed ‘play’. The sadness in Jake’s voice crushed down on her chest. He asked her to call him on his cell phone. He recited the number. She couldn’t call him yet. First she wanted to make sure that Frank really did know she was one and the same woman.
She pulled on her runners and grabbed a jacket and ran through the park to the care home, down the hall to Frank’s room. The bed and the room were empty. A loud deep “No” spewed from her mouth. She slid down against the doorframe and sobs filled in the spaces between the noisy intercom, a resident’s call for help, and “Joy to the World” playing through the sound system.
Frank was gone.
She’d visited and spent time and loved him and hadn’t ever had the chance to tell him how much he meant to her. “Oh, Jake.”
She approached the nursing station with her red nose and eyes. She just didn’t care. “Excuse me,” she said to the clerk.
“Yes,” the woman in a white lab coat answered.
“Can you tell me when Mr. Frank Proctor passed away?”
She ran her finger down a list on a clipboard. “He died at four o’clock this morning.”
“Thank you.”
She sat on a chair in the reception area and tried to think through the buzzing in her ears. Dear sweet, funny, loving, Frank was gone. Why hadn’t Jake called me right away? She knew the answer. In her duplicity, she’d given him her cell phone number as a way to contact Robin Smyth. I
f he tried to call, she wouldn’t know. She’d turned her phone on silent this morning while she reviewed her notes and got ready for this afternoon. It would have gone to her message manager. She dug for her phone in her handbag, clicked through her missed calls. A number without a name was there. Her heart skipped with gratitude that he didn’t reach her before she defended her thesis or she may not have been able to go through with it. There she goes again. All about her. Frank, she thought, I’m sorry. I really am. I need to see Jake now, and it won’t be easy.
Did Frank tell him the truth? Is that why Jake had come to her thesis defense? Did he want to see her humiliation? No, he wouldn’t do that. He had called her cell, the only number he had for Robin. The message at home was after he knew who she really was. Her phone number was in the university records.
While she walked through the park, the wind whipped through her hair and tore at her coat buttons as she fought her way back home. She was like the spider whose web was ripped apart in the wind. The only way to fix it was to start again.
Woman of Substance Page 19