Living While Fat

“Lookin’ good Eden.”

Eden sauntered up to her friend and co-worker Shira, returning her beaming smile with one of her own. “Thanks. You too!” she ran her eyes up and down over her friend’s lovely corporeality. “Shall we?”


“Thanks for not answering ‘surely’.”

“Oh, I’m not making that mistake again!” she laughed. “Especially not around you, Not Shirley!”

Bright sun, blue sky, mild 21°C temperature, occasional exceedingly gentle puffs of breeze—it was a great day to be outside. Even better was doing so at an outdoor flea market with new merch and high-quality food trucks!

Eden took especial pride feeling the way her belly, butt, and hip fat wobbled and swayed with each step—so sensual! 5 months now of 40 hours a week eating reject chocolates plus enjoying ever-more food to keep her expanded stomach comfortably full and altered satiety signaling hormones and whatnot satisfied, there was a lot of fat on many parts of her body. A month prior, she’d just made it to finding peace as a fat woman. Now, she’d already made the transition to actually enjoying being fat.

No question this was Eden’s own personal work that got her to this point. However it’s unlikely she’d have made it this far this fast without her best friend these past months: her co-worker Shira. Shira had already nearly been fat-positive of herself on her own when Eden was initially hired, though going solo, there wasn’t a support network for her of any significance. With Eden, and especially over this past month to the present with Eden’s finding peace then pleasure with her own fatness, they formed each other’s strongest and most readily available support network.

Even after spending a whole work week together talking about pretty much anything and everything in small snippets between chocolate candy consumption, Eden and Shira still wanted to very much be together and do things together that they couldn’t do at work. Going out and about in the world as openly proud fat women doing nothing to hide any hints of their fatness and refusing to be shamed for living while fat was a primary activity they both greatly enjoyed.

Whether online or in physical stores, a big thrill had been and remained clothing and beauty supplies. They helped and consulted with each other to bring their innate shimmer up to the highest possible levels—model grade, where few if any could question their beauty, no matter what the individual may have thought about their fatness.

Eden managed to dial down her boob jealousy to envy. Since she didn‘t have her own big pair to play with, she found delight dressing up and fine-tuning Shira’s pair, with the anticipated side-effect of those parts of Shira drawing even more attention.

Already barely a minute strolling the main entry aisle of the outdoor market, they were turning heads. So far, every stare (with or without partial or full elevator eyes) came with a smile—no scowls.

“See? You’re getting eyeballs all over and so am I—not just me on my upper chesticles.”

“No bird’s nesticles?” Eden teased.

“Not on my chesticles! Tee hee! Oh! Let’s go over and look at the hats!”

Two wide-brimmed Panama near-white straw hats later, the fat friends’ ensembles were even more fashionable, and they were enjoying a clearer view with less glare, sans-sunglasses so others could see Shira’s alluring brown eyes and Eden’s shimmering hazel ones.

“I’m pivoting over to earrings.”

“You have a pair of small hoopies on, Ede!”

“I see an upgrade!”

“I’m going over next door to the collectibles booth where the proprietor’s making eyes at us that you’re not noticing.”

“Have fun and try not to get arrested” Eden laughed, briefly squeezing Shira’s soft and bare upper right shoulder.

Eden saw nothing new in nor on Shira when they met back up in the main aisle a few minutes later. “Collect anything?”

“Nah. He’s married and monog.”

“What about his stuff?”

“I wasn’t going to get into his junk out here with his wife or equivalent right there!”

“What he’s selling that’s not his body, you perv!”

“No. Some fun things, but it‘d just be more clutter in my home life. What about– ohhhh yes!” Shira answered her own question before she finished asking it, seeing what was now muted gold hanging off each of Eden’s ears. “Score!”

“A pair of gold pear earrings for the pear” Eden grinned.

“That’s owning it! That’s body positivity on display, my friend!”

It felt so nice, sauntering outdoors in the medium-dense crowd, seeing people and things and being seen. Equally good was being able to chat as long as they wanted with nary an interruption. They were also very used to being together quietly, from countless hours of devouring defective chocolates together at work.

“I can’t believe nobody’s scowled at me or given me shit yet” said Eden. “Not even a dirty look, that I’ve seen!”

“It’s your outright body positivity, girlfriend. And mine. Neither of us is cowering, neither of us is getting arrogant or defiant. We’re just owning and being who we are, proud enough to smile without thinking about it. Very few folks mess with that, and in my experience only the ones with quite deep personal problems and no easier targets around.”

Out of nowhere a sandy tending-short haired wiry gent just under 6 feet tall roared up directly in front of Eden. “Thank you so much for being here today!” he breathlessly gasped, his eyes oozing sincerity as he nervously handed her a small sealed envelope.

More out of surprise and instinct than thought, Eden grasped it. She had only a couple of seconds to get a good look at his face before he jetted off as quickly as he’d appeared.

“That’s special” Shira snickered.

“Think I should open it? I mean, he looked sincere and, to me, appealing, but I’ve read so much about fat shaming where men pretend to be into fat women just to say they got with them and make pig and hog and ugly jokes and all that that even though I’ve not been fat long enough for it to have happened to me personally, I’m concerned about this being my first time.”

“Lemme have that for a minute, please.”

Eden had no idea what Shira was doing when she sniffed the envelope, then fondled it, then whacked it a few times against her opposite fisted hand.

“Well if it’s a bomb it’s a dud, so it should be safe to open” she said as she handed the envelope back over.

Eden did go ahead and open it. Inside was a nice, small greeting card with Thinking Of You in cursive on the front. The inside was in slightly lumpy sloppy guy penManship:

Deep apologies for interrupting your day, even briefly. I know it’s not cool for strangers to bust in on someone’s life, especially with the primary goal of making a body-centric comment. But none of us can really know another person on first sight, so we go with what we can see and otherwise sense. I see and otherwise sense THE most beautiful and alluring hips and rear I have ever seen—online photos included. And it goes without saying the rest of you, but I’d better write it to ensure you understand your entire physical being melts me faster than today’s moderate temperature is melting people’s ice cream cones around us.

Would love to get to know you, beyond what can be seen.


1 (562) [number redacted from this story]

Eden remained at a near-aisle-blocking standstill staring at the lengthy missive as Shira whipped out her device, engaged telephone mode, and made a call.

It hadn’t even registered in Eden’s messed-up mind what Shira was doing until the call went to message.

“Hi Darrell. This is Shira, the boobacious wobbly-bellied one next to your favorite hipster bootacious bellyliscious mega-curver whom you just now paper messaged—nice card, by the way. Her name’s Eden and she’s too shy to call you, much less tell you what she told me that she thinks you’re cute and wondered what your rush was. We’re both big women with big appetites, so if you’re for-real interested in her, I happen to know as her bestie that she’s available, and we‘re both hun-gree! for savory goodness—nothing sweet. You don’t have to get me anything, but if you want to be more memorable to her in a good way and spend more than a few seconds in her immediate proximity, you’d do well to get back with us in the food truck zone. No need to call back, especially since this is my phone, hence not the number you want. Not that you and I may not possibly have some sort of a future in each other’s orbit, just that you’re obviously into Eden, not me, and that’s cool. Just come find us; we’re super-easy large targets to spot. Bye!”

“What did you just do?!”

“Something you wouldn’t. Or at least not without brooding about it and overthinking it most of next work week. Carpe diem!”

Rivulets of perspiration rolled along the soft bottoms of Eden’s sleeveless upper arms, in her struggle to hold it together for the imminent admirer meet-up her possibly-now-on-probation bestie got her into.

“Settle down and keep breathing fully deep and calmly, as you were before the call” Shira advised as they strolled ever-closer to the food trucks, already in sight. “As your well-experienced friend, I’m all scanners and radars on for shenanigan detection. By all means follow your own intuition and experience, but I got your back.”

“Even if we’re standing side-by-side?”

“Don’t want to block so much of the view for other admirers, my pedantic sometimes overly literal friend.”

It actually pleased Eden to see that Darrell had his own sweat rivulets dripping occasionally like condensed water from the outdoor side of a room air conditioner, seemingly struggling as much as she was when they came into each other’s sight. He was standing smack in the middle of the generously spacious parking lot portion reserved for food trucks and pedestrians, looking unsure whether or not to approach the twosome.

“Keep strolling and smile if you like him” Shira advised.

The more she looked at him, the more Eden liked him. With every step, she felt herself getting more excited. At least some of her excitement showed.

So did his. He was now at a point of petrification, rendering moot his indecision regarding whether or not to approach.

The moment of meeting had arrived, apparently with a main course of silence.

“You gonna drink Darrell up with your eyes until you’re full before you’ve even opened your mouth?” Shira bluntly prompted.

“Hi Darrel. That was a very nice card you made.”

“Thank you wull, I didn’t make it, but… thankfully found it.”

“But you wrote on the inside, and that’s what matters.”

{She’s into him, he’s into her} thought Shira. {All systems go for romance.}

“So what would– what would you like?” he stumbled, losing himself to her eyes and general countenance.

“The fragrance of Doug’s Dogs is really drawing me in. Yearning for a juicy hot wiener in my mouth right about now.”

Pfffft!” Shira bust up laughing.

Stop it!” Eden immediately elbowed her hard (but was already arm-padded sufficiently to make it more pleasant than painful). Blushing bright red, her gaze re-engaged Darrell’s, “I didn’t mean it pervy—I really didn’t! I just want some food to eat.”

“Please don’t be sad or upset or anything like that, Eden” he reached out to caress her lovely bare forearm, pulling back. “Let’s go closer and I’ll get in line, then you can tell me what you want. You too,… Shira?”

“S-H-I-R-A Shira, yes.”

“I’ll buy yours too, ’cause if you hadn’t called, I might not ever have had this amazing experience of being with Eden—and you.”

“Stay with full honesty, Darrell. You don’t have to pretend to be into me if you’re not into me. Here’s $20, ’cause I’m hungry enough to eat a fuckton, and likely so is Eden, and it’s her you want to impress with the 100% real you.”

Darrell’s weighted-down arms and lighter wallet impressed upon him a sliver of the reality of kinda-sorta-maybe dating a big-appetite woman. Not all of the nummy load was hot dogs: a nearby kebab truck drew all 3 of them including him, his choice being chicken satay. He was the only one with anything sweet: his medium limeade beverage. The wondrous women who dazzled him (and he did like Shira, even if nowhere near the same level as Eden) both went with lightly-iced water.

Seating space for potently plush posteriors and the rest of the persons attached to them were scarce. For that matter, there were only a few school- or picnic-like metal frame wooden top and bench seat tables available on the grassy park lawn area adjacent to the food trucks.

Shira spotted a just-departing group of 3 from a shaded table next to an outbuilding, quickly guiding them all over there before anyone else made claim. All was well until the excited flirters ground to a standing halt with the rapidity and determination of a pair of in-agreement stubborn mules.

“I don’t think there’s room for all of us.”

“Sure there is!”

Making good on her words, Shira startled Darrell when she guided him by the shoulders to a seated position at the very end, then did the same with her doubting friend to his immediate left.

“But I won’t fit–”

“–You will if you plant your right hip and thigh atop his left, which given what I’ve seen of you two I cannot imagine doing so is something to which either of you will have an objection. Now please sit before someone bogarts my seat!”

“Aaahhhh!” “Oooohhhh!”

“See?” Shira grinned as she sat down across from them. “Go ahead and side-cuddle lean into her, the way you obviously want to, Darrell. Can I just call you D—letter D?”

May you, is what you’re asking him.”

“Why are you wasting time being a grammar nazi when you could be applying that mind share towards getting to know the guy you obviously like to whom you’re applying your sexy plush hip and thigh crush?”

“Call me anything polite, either of you. I’m just delighted to be here, crushing hard in a whole other way.”

During the course of the meal, Eden (and Shira) learned that Darrell was a jack of many trades, with an eclectic job history rivaling Eden’s own. Currently he’d had success doing low-budget commercial art for (mostly local) small businesses, with plate glass picture window sign art popular at the moment (he theorized due to his lower-than-competition rates for that work).

Beyond being ashamed of how she got into her current job position, See’s preferred that no one associate their name and defects, strongly suggesting (but not requiring) that anyone dealing with out-of-tolerance candies and especially Defect Processors keep any mention of their work internal to the company. All she and Shira said was that they worked at the same candy manufacturing company.

Shira had figuratively sat on her hands all the rest of the weekend, so as not to interrupt/jinx anything. The moment Eden arrived at work Monday, she asked the obvious burning (in her mind) question, “So how was your date with Darrell?”

“Rushed and unfulfilling” Eden sighed.

“Premature ejaculation?”

“Not so much that, since neither he nor I felt like going there so soon. He’s a good guy, but… I think he has some personal work to do, before truly being ready for the dating realm.”

“What kind?”

Plink plink. Plop plop plop.

“Tell ya in awhile. We’ve obviously got some eating work to do.”