The Next Big Thing Read Online Free
life.
I was going to be a star. A rich, beautiful, thin star.
Chapter Two
The deadline for From Fat to Fabulous was in less than four days. If I wanted to audition for the show, I’d have to act fast.
The first order of business was to buy something new to wear for my audition video, a nightmare I tackled after work on Tuesday. When you’re fat, buying a new outfit isn’t a casual affair. You can’t simply drop by the mall and scope out the latest fashions. You need a well-thought-out plan. It’s the only way to avoid disappointment, overspending, or worse yet, mortal embarrassment.
The one thing every big girl knows about clothes shopping is that you’ve got to have a partner. Even though Donna is my best friend, I never even entertained the thought of taking her along. I’m not stupid. There is only one person I trust in a shopping situation: Cara Magley, my old college roommate.
Cara and I see each other about four times a year, almost always when one of us requires something new to wear. Cara is a size twenty. Even most big guys simply do not get what we plus-sized gals go through to find a decent outfit. While a size eighteen girl is hard-pressed to find even one piece of clothing that fits her in Gap, a similarly sized man will have no problem whatsoever. Retail clothing stores rarely carry above a size XL in women’s outfits but they stock 2XL and bigger for men. Gap even has a 3XL for those guys who “need extra room.” Why provide stuff for plus-sized men but forget about women altogether? Aren’t we viable consumers? And everyone knows men’s clothing sizes are cut much more generously to begin with.
When I phoned Cara and explained about the reality show she was jazzed for me. We made plans to meet after work; she didn’t ask what store I wanted to go to. She didn’t have to. There was pretty much only one place in all of Memphis that carried what I was looking for.
“I can’t wait—an evening at our favorite store!” Cara rubbed her hands together in mock anticipation as we entered the mall.
“More like fifteen minutes.” I snorted. “That’s all the time it takes to go through their stock.”
“Ah, come on, Kat. Lane Bryant’s not so bad,” she said.
“True.” I nodded. “I just wish they didn’t put all the best stuff by the front door.”
The marketing geniuses at LB, in an attempt to attract more customers, always place the most striking items right in the store-front windows. The trouble is, no one wants to be seen shopping there. You never know who might walk by and catch a glimpse of you browsing in “the fat girl’s store.”
And it isn’t just the fear of seeing someone you know. I had an upsetting incident once, when a group of frat guys paraded past Lane Bryant yelling “Sooooey!” as though calling a pig. I’ve heard of overweight girls who are so paranoid about things like that happening to them that they shop exclusively on Lane Bryant’s website.
And thus, to combat any potential problems, Cara and I have devised and perfected “The Lane Bryant Dance.” Since I was the one shopping today, and she was assisting, Cara guarded the door.
“Make it quick,” she instructed, positioning herself behind a rack of clothes just to the left of the entrance. I watched her pretend to rummage through a bunch of dresses, while keeping a firm eye outside. She was poised and ready to give a signal should trouble arise.
“All right,” I said, “here goes nothing!” I shot through the store like a marathon runner, snatching clothes off the racks as fast as humanly possible. It took me all of twelve minutes to locate and try on a deep purple button-down shirt and a pair of nice black slacks.
After snagging an acceptable outfit, I made a mad dash toward the cash registers. I was grateful to have found something that would fit without emphasizing my butt, thighs, or any other unflattering body part.
The salesgirl rang up my
I was going to be a star. A rich, beautiful, thin star.
Chapter Two
The deadline for From Fat to Fabulous was in less than four days. If I wanted to audition for the show, I’d have to act fast.
The first order of business was to buy something new to wear for my audition video, a nightmare I tackled after work on Tuesday. When you’re fat, buying a new outfit isn’t a casual affair. You can’t simply drop by the mall and scope out the latest fashions. You need a well-thought-out plan. It’s the only way to avoid disappointment, overspending, or worse yet, mortal embarrassment.
The one thing every big girl knows about clothes shopping is that you’ve got to have a partner. Even though Donna is my best friend, I never even entertained the thought of taking her along. I’m not stupid. There is only one person I trust in a shopping situation: Cara Magley, my old college roommate.
Cara and I see each other about four times a year, almost always when one of us requires something new to wear. Cara is a size twenty. Even most big guys simply do not get what we plus-sized gals go through to find a decent outfit. While a size eighteen girl is hard-pressed to find even one piece of clothing that fits her in Gap, a similarly sized man will have no problem whatsoever. Retail clothing stores rarely carry above a size XL in women’s outfits but they stock 2XL and bigger for men. Gap even has a 3XL for those guys who “need extra room.” Why provide stuff for plus-sized men but forget about women altogether? Aren’t we viable consumers? And everyone knows men’s clothing sizes are cut much more generously to begin with.
When I phoned Cara and explained about the reality show she was jazzed for me. We made plans to meet after work; she didn’t ask what store I wanted to go to. She didn’t have to. There was pretty much only one place in all of Memphis that carried what I was looking for.
“I can’t wait—an evening at our favorite store!” Cara rubbed her hands together in mock anticipation as we entered the mall.
“More like fifteen minutes.” I snorted. “That’s all the time it takes to go through their stock.”
“Ah, come on, Kat. Lane Bryant’s not so bad,” she said.
“True.” I nodded. “I just wish they didn’t put all the best stuff by the front door.”
The marketing geniuses at LB, in an attempt to attract more customers, always place the most striking items right in the store-front windows. The trouble is, no one wants to be seen shopping there. You never know who might walk by and catch a glimpse of you browsing in “the fat girl’s store.”
And it isn’t just the fear of seeing someone you know. I had an upsetting incident once, when a group of frat guys paraded past Lane Bryant yelling “Sooooey!” as though calling a pig. I’ve heard of overweight girls who are so paranoid about things like that happening to them that they shop exclusively on Lane Bryant’s website.
And thus, to combat any potential problems, Cara and I have devised and perfected “The Lane Bryant Dance.” Since I was the one shopping today, and she was assisting, Cara guarded the door.
“Make it quick,” she instructed, positioning herself behind a rack of clothes just to the left of the entrance. I watched her pretend to rummage through a bunch of dresses, while keeping a firm eye outside. She was poised and ready to give a signal should trouble arise.
“All right,” I said, “here goes nothing!” I shot through the store like a marathon runner, snatching clothes off the racks as fast as humanly possible. It took me all of twelve minutes to locate and try on a deep purple button-down shirt and a pair of nice black slacks.
After snagging an acceptable outfit, I made a mad dash toward the cash registers. I was grateful to have found something that would fit without emphasizing my butt, thighs, or any other unflattering body part.
The salesgirl rang up my
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