When you are a 16-year-old girl and have your mother’s ample hips, it’s a curse. Add to that a closet of dated, second-hand clothes and stringy, dirty-brown hair that neither curls nor lies straight and you are an oddball among the kingdom of perfect cheerleaders, football players and brainiacs. They banish you to a lonely table in the back of the cafeteria, with no invitations to parties, no boyfriends and no chance to be one of them.
That was life for Patricia, A.K.A. “Fatty Patty.”
As a result, she sank deeper into her love affair with food. It became her high-school sweetheart. Each bite of bacon, sticky buns or cheesy chips was a long, lingering kiss and Friday nights promised dates of more sugary sweets and salty snacks. However, food was a fair-weather lover; it would woo her one moment, and then leave her feeling empty and abandoned like a one-night stand.
For years after that, when she still had her mother’s hips and then some, Patricia steered clear of any high-school reunions and get-togethers. Then one day, it happened, and she became a different woman, but for the wrong reasons.
While meandering through her local grocery store, Patricia spotted Carol, one of the “pretty girls” from high school. Suddenly, it felt like a bolt of lightning shot through Patricia’s body and exposed the hidden insecurities she had tucked away in a dark place. She felt naked and wanted to run and hide.
She tried to skirt along the produce aisle in hopes of not being spotted. Coming out of the canned food section, however, their grocery carts bumped.
At first, Carol, a petite blonde dressed like a Stepford wife, looked up and right past her. Then, her eyes focused.
“Patty, is that you?”
“Oh, hi Carol,” Patricia said, deflated.
“Oh my word, I almost didn’t recognize you. You look great,” she said. “You’re so, so…”
Patricia rolled her eyes.
“Thin,” Carol whispered.
“Uhh, thanks, Carol. Well, it was nice…” Patricia said, turning to walk away.
“No, no…wait,” Carol said, touching Patricia’s arm. “I am dying to know what you did. You must have lost, what, 100 pounds?”
“Something like that,” Patricia said, “but I really need to …”
“I remember you in high school. We were so cruel,” she said, “but look at you now. You’re what, a size 4?”
“Carol, I really don’t…”
“Come on, I am dying to know what you did. Dying!”
“You’re dying,” Patricia quipped back, unable to hide her anger any longer. “You mean you are literally dying to find out why I am so thin?”
Shoppers stopped to glance at them and Carol began to blush.
“What did I do, Carol,” she asked. “You really want to know? Well, I am going to tell you.
“I, Fatty Patty, as you all used to call me, didn’t plan to get this thin. It was purely by accident.”
Patricia told Carol about how she continued to gain weight after high school; that she married a man who treated her poorly which caused her to continually turn to food. Eventually, food went from being her high-school sweetheart to her lover-on-the-side and then, after long, her pimp. It controlled her.
Although she had two beautiful kids, a five- and six-year-old, her husband left them all.
“Then, it happened,” Patricia whispered.
“I was driving my kids to school one morning and was nearing the Krispy Kreme donut shop on the Southside. You know, the small one without a drive-thru.
“I thought I would be able to resist, but then the HOT sign came on.”
The flashing neon red sign meant that Patricia could get the hot, pillowy glazed donuts she craved. She couldn’t escape the temptation.
“Since the parking lot was empty, except for a man and woman smoking cigarettes on the side of the building, I thought I could run in and run out and not have to take the kids out of their car seats.
“I darted in to order a half dozen,” she said, as her eyes began to get lost into the story, “but then I spotted those crullers. I had a conversation with myself about whether or not to get them. Eventually, I did.
“I paid the cashier, went outside and my car was gone,” she said as her eyes widened as if she was seeing the empty parking space all over again.
“I ran all over the parking lot screaming, looking for my car, my babies. Someone had stolen my car with my babies in it.”
Carol’s eyes widened as she remembered hearing about this on the news.
“Days later, they found my car,” Patricia said, as her voice dropped into a whisper. “It was stripped of its tires and the seven dollars I had in my console. My kids were still strapped in their seats, though. Their eyes were closed as if they were sleeping, but they weren’t.”
Carol looked horrified.
“So, Fatty Patty didn’t get skinny on purpose,” Patricia said as tears streamed down her face. “I didn’t do Weight Watchers, did not count calories or join a gym. This is the I-can’t-sleep-can’t-eat-because-I-am-wrecked-with-guilt-and-dying-inside diet. If you want to join me, feel free.”
Patricia walked off, leaving her grocery cart behind.