She knew she would have to snap herself out of the reverie soon, very soon, and design some kind of rescue plan for Agent 23 around Marc’s spywork from the Weigh-In Center..but just a few more seconds, she coaxed herself, not wanting to leave the time before, which had seemed so difficult for fat people, for people of size at the time, but which now seemed like a paradise.

The strange thing, she thought, is that I love what Leon and I do because he is the one I do it with. If someone else were to kiss me and run his hands over my breasts and whisper to me how they remind him of two large cream cheese puffs, I would giggle and tell him to get a restaurant (which, come to think of it, wouldn’t work because only one restaurant gets away with serving cream cheese puffs these days, and people pay plenty for them). Weirdly, when Mark does what he does to me -as opposed to with me- I would enjoy it if anyone did it.

I think. Except, oddly enough, for Leon. I could not bear the thought of his doing any of those things because it would mean that he was no longer Leon, but someone I didn’t know.

It is probably a personally-manufactured dichotomy. Maybe somewhere there is one man -or person, depending on one’s orientation- who does and can do both to one woman. But I doubt it.

She turned back to the Board which pinpointed the positions of her agents in red and texted Marc in the Weigh-in Line.


About franniez

Author of FatLand: A Novel and editor/author of Fat Poets Speak: Voices of the Fat Poets' Society, along with Kathy Barron, Anne Caplan, Corinna Makris and Lesleigh Owen.
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