Full Figured 4: Carl Weber Presents

by Weber, Natalie

  “You’re not pregnant, are you? Lord, what will I tell your father?”

  “No, Mom,” I responded through my laugh. She tended to forget that I was way old enough to have babies, but if she didn’t worry, it wouldn’t be her. “I’m not pregnant yet, but things are looking up. I have a client, so I have to go, but I’ll see you on Sunday. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, baby. I’ll let your dad know you are coming, and we’ll talk again later in the week to confirm.”

  We said our good-byes, and I hung up with a smile on my face. Rubbing my belly, I wondered how it would feel to be carrying Sean’s child. Would we be good parents? Shaking the thought from my head, I got up to clean my area and then tend to my client. I had so much to do in so little time, and I wanted everything to be perfect and to Sean’s liking, as well. He’d told me that whatever I wanted would be fine with him, but I wanted him to be included in the decision making. We had to get everyone together, and I had yet to meet any of his friends. I was already feeling light-headed just thinking about it all, but I was ready. In a matter of months I would be Mrs. Sean King, and I would be wearing the title of his “queen” well.

  Please Return My Call

  It’s been too long since I’ve seen your face... since I’ve smelt the fragrance of your perfume, and I can’t get a hold of myself... .

  ~Trey Songz

  “Valencia, you can’t just lie in the bed all day, honey. Besides working at the shop, what else are you doing besides crying yourself to sleep and eating everything in the house? I’m on my way over there.”

  Terrell had been calling my phone all weekend, and I finally answered. I was trying to just deal with this mess with Sean the best way that I could, and I lasted only about two weeks before the breakdown snuck up on me. I was at home, trying to sort my life out, and it hit me out of nowhere that on some real shit I could be signing divorce papers soon. Sean had been beating my phone down for days, and even though he said he wanted to make it work, I wasn’t ready to deal with him just yet. I stood him up for our marriage counseling appointment, because I wasn’t ready to admit that we needed outside help just yet.

  Sitting at the island in my kitchen, I looked at the mess I’d created in here. I counted five ... no, six, empty containers of Häagen-Dazs butter pecan on the counter, next to several jars of dessert topping and a half-eaten Mississippi pecan cake that I’d scooped up from Shop Rite on my way home from the salon Saturday night. The remnants of a twenty-four-count snack pack of chips rested on a table, and the empty bags were scattered across the floor, like a wind had come through and blown them over. I hadn’t showered at all since then, and here I was on Monday afternoon, looking and probably smelling a mess.

  Terrell didn’t even give me the option of telling him to stay home, and although I knew he was on his way, I didn’t even budge to try and clean the shit up. I wasn’t in the mood. This was what I’d been reduced to—a smelly, nappy-headed, heartbroken, fat girl who was ready to go to the hotel and hunt Sean’s car down. I imagined what I would do if I saw his car. I pictured myself having a Waiting to Exhale moment as I climbed onto the roof of his ride and started with the back window first.

  A smile spread across my face as I envisioned the glass flying everywhere and hotel security coming down as the alarm screeched. I would dress in all black and would cover my face with a bandanna so that they couldn’t identify me. I would hop down from his car and jet to mine, where I would ditch my outfit in the trunk and drive out of the hotel like nothing had ever happened, passing his car on the way out.

  A knock at my back door brought me out of my musing, and the smile that was on my face instantly turned into a frown. I swear I did not feel like dealing with this mess today, but I had no choice but to let Terrell in, because I knew he wouldn’t leave. Still, I didn’t budge from the chair as he knocked again on the glass, harder this time to ensure that I indeed heard it. I just didn’t want to be bothered, and I didn’t feel like talking about Sean.

  “Diva, I know you heard me knocking on this door,” came Terrell’s voice from behind me. I totally forgot I had given him a spare key to the house. I never told Sean that, because I knew he would flip.

  “I was coming. You didn’t give me enough time,” I responded, suddenly conscious of my appearance. I could see the look of sorrow and pity in my friend’s eyes, and it made me feel even worse.

  “Valencia, what’s really going on with you, and why are you looking like that? What is going on in this kitchen?” Terrell inquired as he began to gather the empty chip bags from the floor and table and to clear the counter of its clutter. I almost lost it when he threw the rest of my cake away, but he did the right thing. Had it sat there, I definitely would have finished it off before the night was out.

  “Sean cheated on me with his assistant because I’m fat.”

  Speaking those words was so painful that it instantly brought tears to my eyes. The reality of the situation was that I had put on weight, but that was only part of the problem. I’d always said that the things you did to get me were the things you had to do to keep me. Sean hadn’t changed; I was the one who had flipped the rules around. It had started with a gained pound here and there, and being too tired to, at the very least, give up a blow job. Long hours at the shop had strained our relationship even further, and with him being out of town all the time, I should have been more available. Hell, I’d practically handed him over to her.

  She was the one I gave all my secrets to. I told her what he liked for his birthday and what to buy, until it got to the point where she had everything memorized and I didn’t need to tell her how to please my man anymore. On our anniversary she made reservations for us to have dinner at his favorite restaurant and then took my place when I was stuck at the shop and didn’t show up. Many late nights she made sure dinner was prepared for him when he got home, along with having his itinerary already printed and ready to go in his Louis Vuitton briefcase. She made sure that his clothes were picked out for work the next morning and that his bags were packed for business trips, and when I finally did show up, I was too tired to at least suck his dick. I gave her my life and made it easy for her to climb into my bed over and over again.

  His only request was for me to lose weight. It was bad enough that I hardly had time for him, but when I did show up, I wasn’t half the person I used to be. In fact, I’d doubled in size and attitude, and who wanted to deal with that? We used to cuddle and share our dreams, and now we could both barely stand the sight of each other. This shit hurt like hell, and I wanted to fix it. Where did I start, and how did I start over? Was it too late?

  “Have you thought about going to see a psychiatrist?” Terrell asked as he washed the last dish in my sink and began to sweep the floor.

  I knew how much Terrell hated a mess, because he kept an immaculate household. It embarrassed me that he even had to see my home like this. I always kept my house in order, but lately I hadn’t really cared about that, or much else.

  “A psychiatrist? I’m not crazy, Terrell. I’m overweight and depressed. That’s not the same thing,” I said with way more attitude than I intended. I didn’t need a psychiatrist. I needed a personal trainer.

  “You don’t have to be crazy to lie on the couch. It’s just a way of getting some things off your chest, and talking to someone that doesn’t already know you and can’t judge you.”

  “But I’m not crazy... .”

  “I never said you were. I’m just saying that an unbiased opinion never hurt anyone. Maybe you should just give it a shot at least once. Hell, it couldn’t hurt, and if you don’t like it, you can always not go back,” Terrell explained as he pulled a straightening comb from his bag. “Besides, once you figure out what’s going on with you, you can figure out how to fix your marriage.”

  “But I’m not—”

  “Crazy. I know. You do, however, look a mess, though. Please go shower and wash your hair so that I can get into that kitchen. Your neck is looking a
tight mess, but Mother is here to make it all better. Now, hurry, because I don’t have all day.”

  I reluctantly moved myself from the stool I was perched on and dragged my tired body up the stairs and to the bathroom. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, I took my clothes off and examined the new body that I was dragging around. Although my breasts were still only a handful, they were now sagging and were no longer their former perky selves. I grabbed at the globs of flesh that formed a spare tire around my midsection, and counted the love handles down my sides. Turning around to view the back of me, I saw that my ass was even bigger than it was before, but it wasn’t a round, tight bubble anymore. Now it looked dented and flabby, and the cellulite that covered my thighs was a mess.

  Standing under the stream of water that came from multiple showerheads, I cried, allowing my tears to mix in with the water and suds that ran down my body and disappeared into the drain. If I could fit down that drain behind them, I wouldn’t think twice about getting washed away. After washing my body several times, I applied generous amounts of shampoo to my hair and began to scrub away my troubles. I had to take charge of my life again, and by the time I got through combing conditioner through my silky tresses and rinsing my body for the last time, I felt like I was at least ready to take the next step—whatever that was.

  Moving a little faster, so as not to keep Terrell waiting any longer, I dried and moisturized my body, saying good-bye to the extra pounds along the way. After stepping into a wife beater and a pair of sweats, I rubbed the towel through my hair as I went back down to the kitchen, where Terrell had made me a healthy lunch and had set up a station to get my hair done.

  “Now, diva,” Terrell began as he took an extra hot blow-dryer through my hair, “my friend Alex is real down to earth and very open and objective. He’s been a therapist forever and will help you get through these trying times. I spoke to him on your behalf already, and he will be expecting you in his office tomorrow at two.”

  “Damn, how you just going to set up an appointment without asking me?” I asked with an attitude, yelling over the sound of the dryer.

  “Because you wouldn’t make the decision yourself. I have an outfit in that bag over there for you to wear as well.”

  For the first time since Terrell had come in, I noticed a garment bag hanging over the side of one of the kitchen chairs. I had to get dressed up to go to therapy? What was wrong with my sweatpants and a T-shirt? I hadn’t been shopping in a while, and all the clothes I owned I couldn’t fit into anymore, but that was beside the point.

  “Why do I have to get jazzy to go to therapy?” I asked as I shrank back from the hot comb nearing my neck. I feared getting burned and didn’t buy into the tale that it was just the heat I was feeling.

  “You’re not getting jazzy. You’re turning into the new you,” Terrell replied as he worked his magic on my hair. “You’ll be giving up those sweatpants and T-shirts for everyday clothes. You will be looking like you own a shop from here on out. You will show Sean what he has been missing as you get back to where you want to be or close to it.”

  “Okay, but ...”

  “No buts. We’re going to do this thing together, and I’ll be right by your side. Now, hold your ear down so I can get up around that side. Don’t you ever let your hair get like this again.”

  Terrell took his time flat ironing my hair until it was bone straight, then pinned it up into a beehive for me so that I could wrap it in a scarf until tomorrow. He offered to go with me to my appointment, but I declined. It was time for me to stand up and start taking steps on my own. I was ready to begin a new life, and I knew I had to start this journey alone. I did promise him that we could go shopping for more clothes after my session and that I would meet him at the shop.

  He took the liberty of clearing my book and rescheduling my regulars for the next day. Those that couldn’t wait, he would take care of for me, and we were to meet at the mall.

  I was so nervous when I woke up the next day, but instead of drowning my nervousness in junk food, I took the opportunity to clear my kitchen of all of my comfort food. When I was done, I hopped on the treadmill for an hour, vowing to stick with a regular exercise routine on a daily basis until I at least got down to a size fourteen. I liked my body at that size, so that would be my aspiration.

  By one o’clock I was ready to go, but I was a little depressed at the tag size of the dress I was wearing. The dress was fierce, no doubt, but I didn’t like that number eighteen, which was more confirmation of my weight gain. I was on point, though, and with a touch of gloss to my lightly made-up face and the perfect high heels to match my bag, I was ready to make moves. Taking one last look in the mirror, I cleared my mind of all negative thoughts and tried to keep an open mind about this therapy thing. I wasn’t crazy, and I didn’t need it, but I knew I had to take steps if I wanted to move forward. It was now or never.

  Emotional Roller Coaster

  Yesterday I told myself I was gonna be okay.

  Gonna start a new day, be truly happy. I was

  gonna take control of me... .

  ~Vivian Green

  Dr. Alexander Thornton III

  Wow. That was the very first word that popped into my head when I saw her. Curvaceous, cinnamon colored, thick in all the right places. She had the prettiest face I’d seen in a while, and she was here to see me because her confidence was in question. They all saw me for the same reason. Either they gained weight and were now miserable because of it, or they lost weight and still couldn’t find themselves. At the end of the day it was all the same.

  I’d always loved a woman with meat on her bones. It was just sad because not too many of them seemed to know the power that they held. I loved to see the confidence in their walk when their swagger was at its peak. It told the world that they knew who they were and what they were capable of. You had to look closely, though, because some had their head held high, but if you looked into their eyes, you could see the uncertainty. This one was a little more confident than the others. She wasn’t pulling on her clothes or constantly fussing with her hair. She didn’t seem fidgety just yet, so maybe a breakthrough was in the near future.

  I pretended like I was hard at work reading files when my assistant buzzed me to let me know my two o’clock appointment had arrived. I could see her through the open door of my office. I preferred that view when my clients walked in. I liked to see them when they first arrived because you could tell a lot about someone by their appearance. Most of the time—let’s say, 98 percent of the time—I was dead-on with my first thoughts about a person. The other 2 percent surprised me, but that rarely happened. I could tell instantly, most times, if I could help a person out or if I should call it quits immediately. I didn’t believe in dragging out sessions for the sake of getting paid, and I showed my clients that rather than telling them. That way neither of us wasted time.

  My assistant’s voice came over the intercom. “Dr. Thornton, your two o’clock has arrived. Are you ready for her?” Was I ready for her? She was gorgeous, but I was still nursing an old wound from my last try at love. Besides that, I always kept everything strictly professional.

  “Yes, send her in,” I responded as I opened her file. My good friend Terrell had sent her to me and had given me a little info about her, which I had in my notes. That was his opinion, though, and didn’t really count. What I needed to know I would get directly from her.

  I could see her every move from the time she got up, and she was killing the dress she had on. Terrell’s description of her did her no justice. My eyes traveled her curves discreetly, all the way down to her shoes, which matched perfectly the bag she held in her hand. I didn’t see a ring on her finger, and I had noted that she was indeed married. I made another note to ask her about that. I could smell her perfume before she got to me, and it filled the space of my office pleasantly. It smelled like she was wearing Calvin Klein’s CK One Summer 2010, but I could be wrong. Whatever it was, it went nice with her che
mistry.

  “Valencia McCoy-King, it’s nice to meet you.” I stood and greeted her with a handshake and had to keep from closing my eyes and enjoying her touch. She had baby soft hands, and at this level of closeness, she looked delicious.

  “Nice to meet you as well,” she replied in a voice that was music to my ears.

  Who would hurt something so fragile and precious? If she was mine ... Lord, I had to put my professional hat back on before I forgot what I was here for.

  “I’m glad you were able to make it today. Is this your first time seeking out any type of therapy?” I asked her, jotting down notes in the meantime. I had a pretty basic list of questions I went through before getting to the root of the problem, and this hopefully put the person at ease about being here in the first place.

  “Yes, it is. It was suggested by a friend as a good move to make, so here I am.”

  We both knew that Terrell was the friend she was referring to, so there was no need to go into that. I had to clear my head so that I could help her out. A part of me didn’t want to hear her story, because I had heard it so many times from so many different women. Or maybe she would be a part of the 2 percent that surprised me. Hopefully, I’d be able to help her with whatever it was.

  “I agree, and whatever it is you need to get off your chest, feel free. This is a judgment-free zone, and the sessions are usually an hour,” I said to her, breaking down how the sessions worked and the cost of each. I also informed her that it was up to her how many sessions she attended, and how often. I didn’t make that decision for people unless it was absolutely necessary.

  “So, let’s start with the basics,” I said to her to help loosen her up. “What’s the one thing that’s bothering you the most?”