The Adventures of Phatgurl
by Emily Suzanne
Smiltneck
The
Adventures Of Phatgurl
is a serial collection of stories about the adventures of Jany, a
plus-sized young woman who, in desperation, places an ad on a
personals website. As she embarks on her dates, she meets many
different kinds of men who expect many different things from her.
Some of her adventures are wildly amusing and others are more
serious and even sad.
If you have any
ideas or experiences, funny or otherwise, that you would like to see
depicted in a future Phatgurl story, please e-mail me at
emilysuzanne20@hotmail.com.
I will do my very best to incorporate all reader ideas into future
columns. Thanks!
The Ad (Part 2)
SWSSBBW
seeks SM who will not rape her, emotionally or otherwise.
The ability to both speak and write in complete sentences is
a plus. Must not inadvertently throw her down stairs or
pretend that she is “Mama.” Intelligent conversation, a
little respect, and the lack of a current significant other
will get you far. And a well-developed sense of humor won’t
hurt, either. If you like smart chicks with jelly bellies
and thunder thighs, reply to
phatgurl@personalz.com
Candidate 2.5: The Drag Queen
To:
phatgurl@personalz.com
From:
castlesdonthavephones@personalz.com
Subject: Well,
Hello!
How’s it hangin’?
I came across your ad and figured you were worth a once
over, since I noticed you could spell correctly and such.
You would not BELIEVE how many of the people who put ads on
here are complete grammatical dunces! Whenever I get bored
with my life, I spice things up by meeting some new people
and this is as good a place as any to meet them. I like
reading ads, guessing what people are lying about, and then
meeting them in person to find out. If ya wanna hang out
together sometime, send me a note, m’kay?
Trent
To:
castlesdonthavephones@personalz.com
From:
phatgurl@personalz.com
Subject: Re:
Well, Hello!
I would TOTALLY
believe how many people are grammatical dunces. Which is
one of my pet peeves, too, so we may just get along. I have
to tell you, you barely told me anything about yourself, but
you are somehow fascinating. Maybe it’s the grammar thing.
Maybe it’s the insinuation that you get bored with your life
often. Maybe it’s your supposed ability to pick out liars
based on personals profiles. I don’t know. Anyway, yeah,
we should get together sometime. Maybe. Since you didn’t
mention it, there’s always something I like to bring up.
Well, no—I don’t like to bring it up at all, but anyway… I’m
fat. That probably seems like a weird thing to say because
either you already knew that from my ad or you think I’m
nuts for saying so. But it is what it is. I hate having to
worry about whether that will be a pleasant surprise to
someone else or a humiliating one to me. If you’re still
into it, let’s make some plans.
Jany
To:
phatgurl@personalz.com
From:
castlesdonthavephones@personalz.com
Subject:
What?!? You’re FAT?!? Never MIND!!!
I’m kidding, of
course. I hope you read past my subject line. If not, I
guess all I did was weed out someone who can’t roll with the
punches, which isn’t a bad thing. I know what a SSBBW is.
I’m not one of those fat fetish people or anything, but I’m
down with you the way you are. So no surprise. As far as
getting together, I have an idea. If my subject line didn’t
scare you off, this probably will, but let’s see if you can
roll with the punches. (And yes, that was a challenge.) I
go to one of the universities downtown (I don’t give
identifying details to strangers—is Trent my real name?
Only time will tell…) and the drama department, which is
near and dear to my heart if you hadn’t figured that out
already, is doing Rocky Horror for Halloween. Wanna cum?
:P
To:
castlesdonthavephones@personalz.com
From:
phatgurl@personalz.com
Subject: I Am A
Good Churchgoing Christian And You Horrify Me!!!
There. Got
you back with the whole subject line thing. The churchgoing
part and the horrify me part are lies, actually. This is
fun, BTW. Most of the dudes I’ve met on here aren’t up for
verbal sparring. I have to admit, I had only a vague idea
what Rocky Horror was all about until I did some quick
research online so I wouldn’t look stupid. And wow. It
sounds like fun. Actually, it sounds like the kind of thing
I’ve always wished I thought was fun, but that I’ve
always been afraid of. Does that make any sense? Anyway,
as part of a self improvement plan I am embarking on, called
“Stop Being So Freakin’ Scared Of Anything That Isn’t Normal
For Jany,” I would be happy to accept your invitation. One
question, though. Is the dressing up thing a requirement?
Jany walked into the gallery ten minutes late and found Mala
standing behind the cash register staring at the phone with
a grumpy look on her face.
“Um—sorry I’m late? Is that the problem?” Jany asked. Mala
turned her head in Jany’s direction and glared.
“Yes. Yes it is. I have a lunch date and if you weren’t
here, how was I supposed to go?” Mala pouted dramatically.
“Oh, whatever. When have I not shown up? But I really am
sorry. I overslept. I was up late last night doing some
research.”
“Research?”
“Yeah. I’m turning into you! I got an invitation last
night to go to a play with this guy. I’m going to—” Jany
paused dramatically: “Rocky Horror!” The anger left Mala’s
face and was replaced with a sort of glowy, reminiscent
delight.
“Jany! That’s wonderful! I used to go see the movie every
year on Halloween with a good friend of mine. We always
ended up in an orgy with half the audience afterwards.
Damn, I miss those days.”
“I
thought you might know what Rocky Horror was. I didn’t,
really—had to look it up. None of that orgy stuff for me,
though. I’m just going to watch the play.”
“We’ll see about that. Crazy things happen to people who
watch Rocky Horror. You dressin’ up?”
“Crazy things like that don’t happen to me. And
Trent, the guy I’m going with, said you don’t have to dress
up, so I think I’ll pass for this year.”
“Trent? I knew a guy named Trent once. He had the most
amazing—”
“Never mind, Mala. Probably too much information. And
anyway, I’m here now. Get to work!”
“And you’re not gonna dress up? You gotta! It’s
half the fun. No, ninety percent of the fun. I swear.
I’ll help you.”
“You have work to do. So you can get on with your lunch
date. Go!” Sometimes Jany was glad that Mala was a little
flighty. It wasn’t all that hard to change the subject,
really.
At
the end of the day, Mala dragged Jany out for dinner.
“Don’t you have a date or something you need to get to?”
Jany asked, in an attempt to escape.
“Nope. Not ‘til later.”
“I
can’t afford a fancy place like this!”
“My
treat.”
“I
can’t let you buy me dinner. You’re my boss. It’s
just—weird.”
“Perk of the job. And anyway, it’s not free. You have to
make me a promise.”
“A
promise?”
“Promise me that you’ll let me dress you up for Rocky
Horror. If you do that one thing, you can order anything
you want to off the menu. It’ll let me relive my younger
days when I was footloose and fancy-free!”
Jany reluctantly agreed. It wasn’t often that she had a
chance to eat fancy French food. Most of her meals came in
grease-spotted paper bags from places where a three-course
meal meant you went back for two free drink refills. And if
the outfit Mala put together was too risqué, she’d just tone
it down a notch or ten before she left the house on
Halloween.
On
Saturday, Mala showed up at Jany’s house before noon. Jany
was reading a biography of Georgia O’Keefe and not expecting
company—she was lying on her stomach on the couch
absentmindedly eating dry Count Chocula cereal with one hand
and turning pages with the other when the doorbell rang.
The sound frightened her into jumping off the couch and she
dumped the cereal out of the bowl when she did, all in one
fluid movement. Heart pounding, she pushed the intercom
button and asked who was there.
“Your beloved boss. Let me in.” Within seconds, Mala was
standing in Jany’s doorway. She dropped an unbelievably
large pile of bags and boxes on the floor at her feet.
“Hi,” Jany finally managed.
“Let’s get to work, girl!” Mala sang out, then promptly
dropped to her knees in the middle of the pile of bags and
boxes. “Here. Try this on.”
All
Jany knew about the ensemble that Mala was gathering was
that she had been interrupted at work a hundred times with
things like, “How tall are you again?” and “Are you sure you
need a 4x, or will a 3x work? I think these are supposed to
be a little tight.” She had expected her boss to hand her a
single bag on Friday after work and be done with it. And
when Jany had failed to receive such an offering, she
assumed it would show up sometime the next evening, in time
for her to slip into a dress and maybe put on some makeup
before she had to leave to meet her date. She had
definitely not expected Mala to show up in the middle of
Saturday morning with half the merchandise of every store in
the city.
Jany accepted the piece of black fabric that her boss handed
her. “What is this?” she had to ask. “And what are you
doing here already?”
“Here.” Mala took the item in question from Jany’s hands by
the corners and shook it out. It was a pair of shorts. Or
underwear, Jany couldn’t tell which. “They’re hot pants.
Try them on. And I’m here ‘cause we got work to do!”
Jany cautiously took the shorts and headed into the
bathroom. When she pulled them on, they fit around her, but
they were definitely not appropriate to wear in public.
“Mala!” she wailed. “They’re way too short. They look like
underwear!”
“Supposed to. But they fit? Come out here!”
Humiliated even in her own home, Jany walked slowly out of
the bathroom. Mala clapped her hands in glee.
“Perfect! Okay, these go under them.” She handed Jany a
pair of fishnet tights this time.
“My
god! I didn’t even know you could get these in my size!
But I can’t wear this stuff, Mala. My legs—well, look at
them. No, don’t! My legs are terrible! My thighs are all
lumpy and puffy and pale so my calves look like they’re
stuck out of half-roasted marshmallows at a weird angle.”
“Shut up. They’re fine, and no one will care anyway. Rocky
Horror is supposed to be over the top. Now go put
the damn tights on. And try these boots on, too.”
When Jany emerged from the bathroom, she was almost in
tears. The tights made the skin on her legs bulge out in a
thousand little diamond shapes and the roundness of her
belly hid the part of the shorts that should have showed on
the fronts of her thighs. She liked the boots—they were
shiny and black and came up to her knees—but the heels were
high and she felt like she might be pitched forward at any
second. Despite it all, Mala proclaimed her gorgeous.
When she was finally fully dressed, Jany stood in front of
the mirror and stared at herself in horror. She was now
also wearing a long-sleeved fishnet leotard that matched the
tights, what amounted to a black bra, and a studded
neckband. Her hairstyle looked like it should only have
been created by going out in a hurricane with wet hairspray,
Mala had made Jany’s face so pale it was almost ghostly, and
she was sporting blood red lipstick and at least a pound of
black eyeliner. As a finished touch, Mala tore holes in the
fishnet in various places.
“Mala, what are you doing?!”
“You’ll fit right in, don’t worry. I know my shit.”
“If
you say so. But I can’t go out like this. I’m sorry. I’ll
scare everyone away! Besides, I’m not sure it’s even
legal!”
“Trust me, it’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. If someone with a body like yours went out
like this, that’d be fine. Good bodies can get away with
indecent exposure. But I don’t have a good body.”
“No
one at the play will say a word, trust me. And I wasn’t
going to make you hop on a bus looking like that! Here.”
Mala reached into one last bag and pulled out a floor-length
leather trench coat. “Be careful, though. This has to be
returned. ‘Borrowed’ it from a store where a friend of mine
works. He owed me a favor.”
Jany pulled on the coat and tied the belt securely around
her midsection.
“Are you sure it’s okay?” she asked, disappearing to look at
herself in the mirror again. “I wouldn’t want to get you in
trouble. But this coat is great!”
“You rock, girl! Stop worrying! Won’t be me that gets in
trouble, and if my buddy does, he kinda deserves it. Now I
gotta get my ass outta here so I can go get some ass! You
have fun tonight.” And she was gone.
Alone in her apartment, Jany shrugged the coat off and laid
it across the back of the couch. She went back to stand in
front of the mirror. She had never worn anything like this
before, ever. And she’d never had the desire to, either.
But now that she was, it almost seemed like fun. It was
hard not to feel confident in fishnet tights and knee-high
boots, in the clothing of a woman who knew what she wanted
and demanded that she get it. After an hour and a half of
alternately staring into the mirror and sitting on the edge
of her bed deep in thought, Jany decided to go for it. From
everything she’d read online, Mala was right. Rocky Horror
was all about being over the top. It was campy and vampy
and dripping with sex and not at all meant to be taken
seriously. And Jany thought it might be silly to worry
about her weight making her feel out of place when she was
potentially going to be surrounded by men in women’s
underwear. Besides, if she chickened out, she could just
kept the coat on.
It
was dark already when Jany walked to the bus stop; Trent had
insisted that the midnight show was the one to go to. She
was slightly worried that her boots and fishnets might show
through the gap in the front of the coat and give the
impression that she was a whore or something, so she figured
the darkness was good; it gave her something to hide behind.
When the bus stopped in front of a rickety old theater,
there was a man leaning against a signpost. He swooped
toward Jany as she stepped off.
“You’re Jany, right?” he asked in a carefully spooky voice.
“I
am,” Jany replied. She swallowed hard. He was a very
good-looking man. Pale skin—Jany couldn’t tell if it was
made up or natural in the dim moonlight—and dark, dark hair,
long and slicked back, with eyes to match. He was a good
foot taller than Jany and probably a hundred pounds lighter,
which wasn’t her usual type, but it worked for him.
“Well, let’s go, m’dear. Time’s a-wastin’.” He led her
through the door to the theater. Jany noticed that he
didn’t stop to hand over any tickets, and no one seemed to
expect him to. A man dressed in overalls and carrying a
pitch fork just nodded him through the doorway and another
man dressed in a silver mini-dress and spike heels asked him
if Jany was his latest victim.
“Of
course she is. Let’s show her a good time.”
Jany remembered Mala’s talk of orgies. She was already
nervous, and Trent’s words gave her a little jolt.
“I’m sure I’ll have a good time—no need to show me
anything,” she said in a quiet voice, trying to smile as if
she were kidding. Trent and his friend laughed heartily.
“I’m sure you will, darling,” the man in the silver dress
said. His tone was slightly ominous but friendly at the
same time. “Oh, by the way. I assume you’re a virgin?”
Jany was sure the blood that rushed to her face must be
showing through all the makeup Mala had painted on. An
event like this sure took away the usual first-date
jitters—there were more important things to worry about.
She was embarrassed to be asked such a question by a
complete stranger, and in front of her date, no less, but
she was also angry and humiliated that he assumed she was a
virgin just because of her weight. How dare he! Never mind
that he was pretty darn close to being right. It just
wasn’t a polite thing to say. Jany stared at the floor in
silence. Trent laughed again, more softly this time.
“Buck up, girl. Don’t be so serious.” And then to the
other man: “Yeah, she’s a virgin.”
“Has she at least seen the video?”
Jany looked up in confusion. Was he asking if she’d watched
porn?
“I
don’t think so. Have you, Jane?”
“Have—have I done what, exactly?”
“Have you seen Rocky Horror? The movie?”
“That’s
what this is all about?” Jany laughed in relief. “No. No,
I haven’t.” She felt stupid for getting all worked up over
something so stupid, but relief made her grin anyway.
“I
proclaim you a virgin!” the silver dress man said, and
reached over without out notice to draw something on Jany’s
forehead with red lipstick. After he wandered away to find
another unsuspecting victim, Jany glanced at Trent. Before
she could ask, he told her.
“A
V for virgin. If you’d seen the movie, it woulda been two
Vs. For video virgin.”
“I
see. Is there anything else you’d like to tell me? Warn me
about? So I don’t have to look like an idiot again?”
“You didn’t look like an idiot, I promise. You looked
innocent, and that’s a good thing here. We’re always
looking for innocents to corrupt.”
“That’s encouraging.”
“Come on, let’s go sit down. I’ll fill ya in. You look
good, by the way.”
‘You’re just saying that ‘cause we look like twins,” Jany
said, blushing again. She still wasn’t good at accepting
compliments. Mala had definitely done a good job of
dressing her, though. Jany looked exactly like seventy-five
percent of the people who were there. Except bigger, but
then, she was always bigger than anyone else around. And it
didn’t feel like it mattered so much here, where hardly
anyone looked like the average person you passed on the
street.
“Okay, so here’s what’s gonna go on tonight. There’s a
costume contest. There’s a seductive Twinkie eating
contest. There’s the play. And there’s lots of men in
women’s lingerie. And women in women’s lingerie, too.
That’s basically it. Oh, and we get to throw stuff.”
“Okay, I don’t even know what to question first. I should
have read the book!”
“This is something you have to experience. I would never
discourage someone from reading, I’m a book freak too, but
some things you just have to jump right into.”
“I
see. So—the costume contest. Are the people in costumes
backstage or something?”
“No, they just go up from the audience. They’re just hiding
under their trench coats right now. Like we are.”
“Like we are?”
Trent stood up and shrugged off his coat. Underneath, he
was dressed in thigh high fishnet stockings, torn just like
Jany’s were, and a red thing that Jany really couldn’t
identify. Red satiny straps attached the tops of his
stockings to red thong underwear, but they weren’t exactly
underwear because they, in turn, seemed to be a part of the
red bra he wore. Jany’s breath caught, even at the odd
sight. His body was beautiful. But she had only seconds to
slide back into her old mindset and wonder what someone who
looked like him was doing with someone who looked like her
before it occurred to her that she was sitting inches away
from a near-naked man and staring at his bra, of all
things. In public. A case of the giggles took hold of her.
“This is so ridiculous. I am on a date with a man who is
wearing women’s underwear, and only women’s underwear. And
you look better in it than I do!”
“Like I was saying, pretty soon you’ll see everyone’s
costumes. As soon as they warm up from being outside and
get over being shy.”
“Okay.” Jany struggled to stop laughing, to breathe. “And
what’s up with the Twinkie thing?”
“Volunteers go up on the stage and each is given a Twinkie.
The audience votes by applause on who eats it the most
seductively. The usual routine is lots of girls giving
Twinkie blow jobs and one or two eating Twinkies out of each
other’s cleavage. It’s pretty hot.”
“Um, yeah. Okay. So what exactly is this play
about? I thought I knew enough not to have to research it
too much, but now I sort of wish I had.”
“It’s basically just a parody of sci-fi and horror movies.
These newlyweds break down in the middle of nowhere, go to a
castle for help, and find a bunch of transvestites from
Transsexual, Transylvania. But there’s all this seduction
and sex and the creation of the perfect man for Frank, the
main transvestite. They’re all supposed to be aliens.”
“Oh. Yeah, of course. That makes sense.”
“I
know. No sense at all. That’s the point. Fun, though.
And we get to throw rice and hot dogs and toast. Someone’ll
be passing them out any time now.”
Jany settled in to watch the audience, which she thought
might be just as good as the show. Coats started coming off
and Jany could see more skin than she’d ever seen at one
time before. Jany felt funny looking at them, but she
wanted to look at them. It just felt a little dirty,
staring at people in underwear. Although, if they were
wearing it, they obviously wanted to be looked at. She
settled on scanning the crowd and trying not to stop and
stare at any one person for too long.
As
they waited for the show to start, Trent told Jany a little
more about himself. He was a grad student who already had a
degree in creative writing and was working toward one in
filmography. He’d been published a few times, but nothing
major. Jany was impressed.
“Wow. A smart guy. Usually I don’t attract any of those.”
“I
like you, Jany. I don’t like girls who trash themselves,
though. Don’t go there.”
Jany wondered how she always managed to screw things up.
Then she brought her thoughts to an abrupt halt. He wasn’t
angry, just wanted her to like herself. It was the same
thing Michael was always telling her. Time to make another
bold move and force the confidence to come back. Jany stood
up and quickly shed the leather coat. When she sat back
down, she placed the coat across her lap to hide her belly.
She couldn’t go all the way at once. Michael said nothing
and Jany was wondering if he was embarrassed, if she should
put the coat back on, when he finally leaned over to whisper
in her ear.
“You were wrong.”
“Wrong? About what?” Jany whispered back, in case there was
a reason they should be whispering.
“I
don’t look better in women’s underwear than you do.”
Jany’s skin tingled all over from the compliment, which
amplified her reaction a second later when a man dressed
like Edward Scissorhands walked by, looked her in the eye,
and raked the cardboard scissors that were attached to his
arms over her cleavage, “Hot,” he whispered slowly.
“Hot.” And then he was gone. Jany was electrified.
Emboldened, she scanned the audience more carefully. Weird
as the whole scene was, she was beginning to love it. There
was something deliciously naughty about this night, and it
thrilled her.
The
costume contest, from the man wearing nothing but a thong
and a huge, stuffed penis to the woman who had painted the
top half of her body red and wore nothing else but jeans,
was tacky and hilarious and wonderful all at once. The
Twinkie-eating contest was just as delightful, except it
made Jany remember that she’d been too nervous to eat
dinner. And the play itself, complete with flying food and
audience responses given in unison, was more entertaining
than anything Jany had seen in a long time.
She
was sad when it was time to leave. Dressed like a freak,
among a room full of freaks, Jany felt sexy and powerful.
She didn’t want to leave that behind. A tear rolled out of
her left eye as Trent slid her coat over her shoulders. He
was another thing she didn’t want to leave. Other than his
explanation of the show and their brief discussion of jobs
and schooling and other minor personal details, they’d
hardly spoken, but he seemed like a normal guy—as normal as
a guy dressed in women’s underwear could be—and Jany wanted
to see more of him. Even being dressed in nothing but
underwear and a trench coat didn’t give her enough
confidence to tell him that, though, so when he kissed her
at the bus stop and told her they had a standing date for
next Halloween, she grinned brilliantly.
On
the bus, Jany breathed a sigh of relief. Trent wanted to
see her again, she hadn’t been dragged into an orgy like
Mala had insisted, and she’d had a wonderful night. Not to
mention that a man she actually found attractive had kissed
her. Jany glanced around the bus, then grinned slyly.
Hardly any passengers, and if she wanted to be worldly and
smooth like Mala some day, she had to practice. She moved
her leg to the edge of the seat and slid the tail of her
coat over a few inches, so that a sliver of fishnet thigh
showed above her boot. This bad girl stuff could be
addictive.
Donor Jairo Mazariegos, Vocalist Kel-B, and guest smile
for the camera.Photo
by Jeff Knight. 
