“Well,” she began hesitantly. “I’m thinking about divorcing my husband.”
“And the reason behind those thoughts is?”
“I caught him cheating on me with his assistant,” she said with a straight face. My heart went out to her. I was in the very same situation not too long ago, so I knew that kind of hurt all too well. Why couldn’t people just stay faithful?
“And how did that make you feel?” I asked her, already knowing the answer. She probably wanted to kill his ass.
“It made me feel like I could have done something different to prevent it. He said that I had gained too much weight and he wasn’t attracted to me anymore.”
I was blown. She wasn’t nearly as big as I’d seen a person get, but I didn’t know where she had come from as far as sizing went. Looking at her now, I decided the weight didn’t look bad on her at all. I personally liked them a little fluffy. She was obviously deeply scarred from this, and I knew I had to help build her back up before some user came along and hurt her even more.
“What was your weight before? Or if that’s uncomfortable, what size did you wear, as opposed to the size you wear now?”
“When I met Sean, I was a solid size twelve, to say the least. Now I’m in this eighteen, and I don’t like it.”
I jotted down a few questions on my pad that I would ask her down the line, and I started to chart a plan to help her get back to being happy. I just had to tread lightly and make sure happy was where she wanted to be. Some people were content with being at the bottom. I would need at least one more session to determine if that was the case with her or not, and right now I couldn’t determine what it was that she wanted to accomplish.
The first meeting was always hard because the person seeking the therapy had to build up trust with a complete stranger in order to let him or herself go. Sometimes that could take a few visits; sometimes by the end of the first visit, he or she was ready to open up more. Valencia was the type that needed a to-do list, so once I gathered more info, I would know what I needed to do to get her moving in the right direction. I just couldn’t get over how pretty she was, and I had to see the guy that would cause her so much pain.
“Valencia, can I speak frankly with you?” I asked. Therapist/psychiatrist aside, I liked for people to see the human side of me. Everyone got hurt sometime, and I was not immune to that. In order for her to want to open up, she needed to see the real me.
“Sure. That’s what I expect from you.”
“Cool. In order for me to help you, I need you to be straight up and to keep it real with me. I’m here to help you, and there is nothing you can say that I haven’t already heard,” I said with a smile. “You can be yourself here. Cry and scream if you need to. At the end of it all, I’m here to help you. Take as long as you need to build up your trust. Just rest assured that whatever you say here stays here. I know Terrell recommended you, and you can rest assured that I will not discuss anything we say with him.”
Valencia looked like she was on the verge of breaking down, and pretty soon the tears started to fall. The human side of me wanted to get up and take her into my arms, kissing her tears away until she felt better. My professional side simply offered her a tissue and waited until she got herself together before we continued. I swear, if I had the chance, I would never purposely hurt her.
“Are you okay?” I asked sincerely before I resumed questioning her.
“Yes, I’m okay. I’ve been trying to hold it together since yesterday.”
“No need to apologize,” I said and then jumped right into my questions. “Now, tell me how you started to gain weight.”
“Well,” she began after blotting the corners of her eyes dry and quickly moistening her lips with her tongue.
I would have given anything to be her lips right then.
“I own a hair salon, and it’s pretty packed on a daily basis, so I put in long hours. That leads to my not getting home until the wee hours of the morning sometimes, and by the time I get to sleep, it’s time to get back up. This leaves me no time to go to the gym, and my food choices are even worse.”
“I can imagine. Most stylists kind of eat in a rush, and everything is fast food,” I responded as I jotted down more notes on the to-do list I was creating for her. Valencia needed to learn how to balance everything out, and I had an idea that might just help her in that area.
“Also, I wear sweats and tees on a daily basis, so when you have nothing to button up, you kind of go for broke.” She laughed a sad laugh that pulled at my heartstrings. “My husband mentioned my weight once or twice, but I didn’t really pay it any attention until recently.”
“And are you happy with the way you look right now?” I asked her with a straight face. I thought she was stunning, but that was just my opinion. She looked away and tucked her lip into her mouth, like she was trying to control her tears. Then she put her head down, breathing heavily before wiping the corner of her eye again.
“Can’t say that I am,” she responded, biting her bottom lip.
I assumed that was to hold back more tears. I hated to see any woman in tears, but there was something special about Valencia that really made my heart go out to her. Almost like I wanted to save her from herself.
“What I’m going to do ... ,” I began as I jotted down a few more notes on her chart, afterward reaching for a pen and a notepad for her to write on. I made my clients write their own notes, making them responsible for whatever it was they had to get done and to give them the chance to ask questions about anything that wasn’t exactly clear.
“What do you mean, what you’re going to do?” she asked nervously as she took the pen and pad I handed her.
“No need to worry. We’re just going to make a small to-do list to get you started on being a happier you,” I replied as I broke down the list I had for her into a few sections so as not to overwhelm her with too many things to do at once. She looked like she wasn’t sure about what was going to happen, but I knew once I got her going, she would be more comfortable. “So, the first thing we are going to work on is time management. How many hours a day do you work at the shop?”
“It depends on the time of month and the day of the week. Naturally, it’s busier around the holidays.”
“Okay, so besides the holiday times, I want you to give me a realistic time when you can stop working and get home with enough time to get yourself together. Since you are the salon owner, I know you have certain duties, but I know you also have a manager to hold things down when you’re gone. Now is the time when you are going to rely on them to actually do their job.”
“Ummm ... yes, Terrell is my manager.”
“Perfect. So let’s start off with you setting up all your appointments so that you can be done at the shop at six in the evening, at the very latest, with the exception of your busiest days, which are more than likely Friday and Saturday. That way you have a goal in mind, and you can fit in your workout in the evening.”
“Wow, I guess you aren’t playing,” she said with a slight frown on her face. “When do you want me to start doing this?”
“Tomorrow. When you walk into the shop, I want you to adjust your book to fit those hours. That way once it’s implemented, you can make it happen on a daily basis. Maybe consider spreading out some of your newer clients among the others in the shop or hiring a new stylist. You’re the owner, so you’re making the money either way.”
“Wow, okay,” she responded as she took notes on her pad. I was going to add to the list, but I figured that would be enough for now.
“Also, do you have a gym membership?”
“No, but I do have an in-house gym.”
“Get a gym membership. That way you are surrounded by people with the same goal in mind, and you can stay motivated. I want you to try and get there, at the very least, three times a week, and I want you to do whatever type of workout you decide on for an hour. This is going to help you keep and follow a schedule.”
“Okay. W
hat else?” she replied, suddenly eager to get started.
I liked this kind of drive in people. “That’s it for now. If you feel like you want to come back for another session, you can make an appointment with my secretary before you go. I have a list of things for you to do, but I want to slow walk you so that everything fits in order and doesn’t knock you off your square.”
“Okay. That’s fine,” she said.
Her smile blew my mind. I was glad that I was able to produce such a beautiful thing. “I’m always available, and no question is too crazy or minimal. How do you feel about the session so far?”
“I feel like I’m ready to get my life back.”
“Good, and I’m ready to help you get there. I’ll see you next week.”
“Yes, you will,” she replied.
She gathered her belongings and sauntered out of my office. I had to sit back and gather myself before I got up. Valencia was a definite turn-on, and I knew I had to be delicate with her. After jotting down more notes, I closed up her file and smiled, anticipating the next time I would see her.
Ms. Stress
It’s better that it hurts. It’s better that it feels this way to me. I can’t get too comfortable, ’cause loving you is not my destiny....
~Floetry
I was in the zone when I left the therapist’s office. I felt liberated, almost like I could conquer anything. I still wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do about the situation with Sean and me, but I did know what I wasn’t going to put up with. We now had a trust issue. I felt like if he’d cheat on me with his assistant, then anyone else was game. I had to come to a decision quickly about whether I wanted to call it quits or not, and a part of me was leaning heavily toward wrapping things up so that I could get on with my life.
I didn’t want to go through the motions for the duration of whatever it was that we had left. Before I kicked him out of the house, every time he left the house or didn’t answer a call or his flight didn’t land on time, I would be thinking he was with another woman or back with his assistant. I loved Sean, but I didn’t have the energy to live like that. I also didn’t feel like wasting time in couple’s therapy, listening to a whole bunch of empty promises that he would be able to keep only for a few weeks, at the most. He wasn’t attracted to me. That was it in a nutshell, and even if I could get the weight down, it would take me a while. It wouldn’t happen overnight, especially since I didn’t gain the weight overnight. I wasn’t sure if Sean was built to go through the struggle with me.
I sat in my car for a while before pulling off, looking at the to-do list that the psychiatrist had given me to start on. I was so used to running on empty and staying at the shop until the wee hours of the morning. Business was booming, and just maybe I needed to pass some of the work on to the other stylists, like the psychiatrist said, and do something for me. I was always neglecting myself, which was part of the reason why I was as big as a house now. Jotting down a few notes on the notepad he gave me, I began to get excited again about my life. I needed to revamp some aspects of my life starting today.
Dialing Terrell up, I informed him that I was out of the session and would meet him at the mall as planned. I was ready for a new look, and although I’d gone from New York & Company to Ashley Stewart, I knew I could still rock it with the best of them. As I zoomed along the highway to King of Prussia, it felt good that I was not heading that way to go to the shop and work. I was actually going to do something for me, and I would make sure not to go anywhere near that end of the mall. I would deal with work tomorrow. Today I would be making good use of my black card.
I was able to find parking in a matter of minutes and decided to get started on shopping and not to wait until Terrell was able to get away from the shop. He sent me a text letting me know that he was finishing up with one of my clients and that he would be over within the hour. That gave me time to look in a few shoe stores, where I found a few pairs of fierce sandals that I was ready to wear immediately. It had been ages since I’d purchased anything for myself besides a bigger pair of sweatpants, and it felt great. I came out of Steve Madden just in time to see Terrell looking around for me. Pulling my phone from my purse, I saw that he had called a few times, but my phone was still muted from the therapy session.
“Diva, what took you so long?” I asked as I walked up behind him, loaded down with bags. I knew I would have to take a trip to the car, because I had too many bags and I had yet to go clothes shopping. Besides, I would need to change my shoes, because the heels I had on would not get me far in this mall for too much longer.
“Had to find parking, but I see you wasted no time burning a hole in that black card.” He smiled at me, giving me a hug. He seemed kind of sad, though, and I decided that once we got back from the car, we would find a seat in the food court and talk.
“Well, walk me to my car so I can come up out of these shoes and put this stuff in my trunk.”
Yeah, there was definitely something wrong with Terrell. He loved nothing more than walking around the mall with a million bags so that everyone would know he was balling, but today he didn’t even put up a fight. I was on a high right now and didn’t want to crash the mood, but I would get down to it before the end of the day. Once we got to the car, I popped the trunk, and before placing my bags inside it, I traded my heels for cute flats that would be more comfy to walk in yet still matched my outfit. I almost forgot how much I loved fashion, and I was ready to tear the mall up looking for the latest. Still, I couldn’t get the look Terrell had on his face off my mind, and I just had to ask what was up.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked him nervously. I wasn’t in the mood for any bad news, but if I had to hear it, I wanted to get it before I started shopping. That way, if it was something disturbing, I could shop my frown away.
Instead of responding, he pulled out a folded piece of newspaper and handed it to me. I knew this was going to be bad, and about Sean, if it was in the news. Lord, what was that man up to? I started to just put the article in my pocketbook for later, but something told me to take a look at it. Nothing could prepare me for what I was about to read, and as soon as I scanned the first line, my mouth fell open. Apparently, Sean had broken up with me and had moved on to someone else. To say I was shocked was an understatement. Just last week he was talking to me about counseling, and today he was plastered all over the damn newspaper with some skinny chick.
“It’s on the Internet, too, girl,” Terrell said, reading my mind.
I felt like I wanted to crawl up into a hole and die. How could he do this shit to me? Wasn’t my catching him in the act enough? Pulling out my phone, I dialed his number, and instead of it ringing, I was greeted by a recording telling me the number had been changed to one that was unlisted. That just made my blood boil even more.
“Diva, I know you’re hurting—” Terrell began, but I held up my hand to stop him mid-sentence. I just needed to get home to see what was going on. He didn’t say another word; instead, he took my car keys from my hand and got in the driver’s seat, pointing my car toward my home.
I held my tears in check the entire ride, but it felt like I was five seconds from an explosion, and I had to keep myself from going down to the hotel to find Sean. It felt like it took us forever, and when we finally did pull up in front of the house, my world continued to spiral out of control. In the back, by the door, sat several bags of luggage, and I knew what was in them without having to look inside. Sean had packed up my shit and put me out. I was confused because the alarm company hadn’t called and told me there was a breach, but Sean was powerful and undoubtedly had found a way to get around that.
Pulling out my phone, I called down to the Sheraton to speak to Sean, but the receptionist informed me that he had checked out early that morning. It was at times like this when I wished I had superpowers. I swear I would fly to wherever he was and beat the hell out of him. I felt myself beginning to hyperventilate, but I pulled it together. This would not be the end o
f this.
“Terrell, do me a favor and call your cousin up. Tell him I need him to bring his moving truck here ASAP. I have some cleaning I need to do.”
Instead of being upset, I called the alarm company to reset the password, pretending like I forgot it. After they disarmed the system, I broke the glass in the back window—after realizing that my key no longer worked—and made my way into the house. Within an hour, Terrell’s cousin showed up with a huge truck, and I began to remove everything from the house that I wanted to take with me, finding out in the process that Sean hadn’t even have the courtesy to pack all of my stuff up.
It took a little over two hours and every piece of luggage in the house, but I held my tears in check. Once everything was out that I wanted, I allowed the moving men to help themselves to anything they wanted in the house. They cleaned up, and I urged them to take whatever was left, even if they ended up selling it. At this point I didn’t care, and it showed. I gave the moving men directions to my old house, glad that I’d been smart enough not to sell it. When Sean and I moved in together, I was going to get rid of it, but Sean insisted on making it a rental property instead of selling it to keep a cash flow coming in. It was just something I never got around to, and I simply paid the taxes on it every year. Now I was very thankful I still had it around.
Taking one last look around the house, I ended up in the kitchen. I was definitely hurt and confused, but I didn’t want to deal with it at the moment. Instead, I removed the house keys from my key ring and my wedding rings and laid them on the kitchen counter. He would see them if and when he came back.
Resisting the urge to destroy the place, I set the alarm with a new code, giving the alarm company the number to Sean’s office, to contact in case of an emergency. One of Terrell’s cousins went out and purchased a piece of window glass to replace the piece I knocked out, and it was fixed by the time we were done. I wanted to cry, but I had to hold it together. Locking the door behind me, I knew that this would be my last time stepping foot into this place. I also knew that I would be bright and early for my next therapy session.
Full Figured 4: Carl Weber Presents Page 7