 FAT GIRL IN A STRANGE LAND Nicole was very pretty. She had smoky brown eyes with high arching sharp eyebrows above and high cheekbones below, and smooth skin. Her hair had just enough wave that it couldn't be considered straight, yet not enough curl to become very unruly, and she kept it long enough for her to braid or sweep into fancy updos, but not so long that it tangled easily or ever snagged on anything. She was of average height, so she could wear heels without towering over people, but she didn't have to wear them just to comfortably make eye contact with them, either. She had glasses, but she kept them in her purse for emergencies; she preferred to wear contacts so that nothing took focus away from her eyes. She even enjoyed dressing well, and even dressing up when she didn't absolutely have to. Yes, Nicole was pretty, and she knew it. The only trouble was that nobody else seemed to. Of course, she knew precisely why they didn't, and it irked her in the worst way. Nicole was fat. She had been all her life; in spite of every diet on the market, playing sports all through High School, going dancing every weekend during college, and letting the gas tank on her car rust out while she walked hundreds of miles a year instead of always driving across town. She was fat, and that was all there was to it. The only time being fat was a problem for Nicole, now that she was well past all the taunting and cruelty that came with puberty and finally quite comfortable in her skin, was when it was a problem for somebody else. Like now, when she was trying to get a better job, one Downtown. Apart from being fat, Nicole interviewed well, plus she had a business degree, a few years of experience, and references that wouldn't quit. If she were only thin, she'd be neck deep in Executive Assistant job offers, and she knew it. She also knew that nobody could legally discriminate against her for her being fat, but that didn't blind her to the way that interviewers' eyes never traveled below her chin; as if by never looking at Nicole's curves they had plausible deniability about her weight and any opinion they otherwise might have formed about it. After exactly such an experience, Nicole managed to keep a pleasantly upward curl that could not actually be called a smile on her face as far as the wide glass front doors of the high-rise she'd been interviewing near the top floor of, before she let disappointment furrow her brow. She thought about heading right, toward the nearest subway stop on her way home, but after a moment's consideration, she turned left, toward the harbor and all its shiny bait for tourists. She'd brought a light lunch with her in her purse, but she wanted a cup of coffee to go with it, and down by the harbor, if she'd been inclined to spit, she couldn't have missed hitting a café. Once she had her puny paper cup cappuccino in hand, Nicole walked until she found herself an empty bench at the harborside park, sat and ate a leisurely meal. If she'd had any idea that it would be the last bit of leisure she would have in quite a while, she might have enjoyed it more instead of spending half the time she sat there feeling grouchy about her last interview. Of course, if she hadn't been so grumpy, scowling out to sea the way she was and fantasizing about crushing the towers of the city under her sensibly low heels, she might never have drawn the attention of Misty, the King of Drea Ming... |