A Fat Girl
October 13, 1958
“Here you go, Mitch.”
“Mrs. Holroyd,” distastefully ruffling the edges of the never-ending stack of daily queries, said in mock sarcasm, “thanks a lot!”
“You’re welcome. And I told you,” said in a mock scolding tone, “the name’s Donna.”
“Okay, Donna, thanks.”
“Here’s yours, Liz.” Handing a like-sized stack of queries to the young woman on the opposite side of the head-to-head placed desks.
Concentrating on what she’d been writing, looking up, she smiled at the woman standing above her. “Here we go again, huh?” Looking across the width of the two desks, their eyes touching, her lingering smile warming, very much so, too much so, the young man sitting on the far side of the double desks.
Why’s she got to be so damned beautiful? Mitchell thought for at least the thousandth time since meeting Elizabeth Herzon and, for at least twice as many times, Mitchell sensed the… that well known longing sensation in the lower region… the far lower region of his stomach.
Being Transco Envelope Company’s first female salesman—saleswoman?—considered an experiment, at age twenty-one, Elizabeth Herzon had long, dark blonde, honey colored streaked hair, a beautiful, round face with large, green eyes and a crooked smile that warmed everyone it came in contact with.
Standing a bit above 5' 5", weighing approximately one hundred twenty-five pounds, with vital statistics of 38–28–38, Elizabeth had the kind of figure that turned men’s heads, especially the head of the young man that sat directly across from her.
Yes! Knowing men followed her with their eyes had raised Elizabeth’s ego and yes, further knowing they looked longingly had sent her estimation of herself—compared to what her estimation of herself had always been before—soaring into the stratosphere because Elizabeth Herzon had always been…
Unknown to all but her family and a few remaining friends, Elizabeth had always been….
“Oy, such a punnum! Such a beautiful face!” Her mother and father and aunts and uncles would say. “Such a shame she’s so…
Elizabeth’s job as a sales woman was meant as yet another challenge to herself because, after all, if only after fifteen months of pain, unbearable sacrifice and stubborn determination, she could lose a bit more than seventy pounds, then, Okay, Elizabeth thought, so he’s married! Who knew about the shy, handsome young man that sat across from her that she—unconsciously?—smiled at seductively. The young man that she—accidentally?—brushed against whenever they would find themselves passing in the tight corridor between the rows of filing cabinets, where she as much as he—she was sure—would go out of his way to be there whenever she was there because Mitchell Lipensky was the young man that Elizabeth Herzon had on, so many occasions, dreamt of meeting and falling in love with. And so long as she was fantasizing, her love, of course, would be fully reciprocated.
But she did know Mitchell was married and did know he had a child. Nonetheless, after living her life with no one to love, the young man that sat across from her—he should only know—had become the object of Elizabeth Herzon’s masturbatory daydreams and thought it would be so easy to seduce him, to have him, and Oh, yes, Elizabeth wanted him! Possibly because she knew she couldn’t have him. However…
There were three reasons Elizabeth did not allow her feelings to visibly surface. One: she was rather sure it would mean immediate dismissal from Transco Envelope Company. Two: she truly did not want to be the cause of a broken home. Three: dressed, Elizabeth—forcing her fat girl syndrome aside—thought she looked good… great in fact. But nude, the tissue of her heavy breasts had stretched and, though beginning to fade with time and tighten with exercise, Elizabeth’s breasts, stomach, thighs and buttocks were crossed with translucent stretch marks. Also, due to the many years of extra flesh, her stomach and buttocks were “mushy” and, in her opinion, so ugly. So, she thought, no way am I ready to have any guy see me naked!
Looking at Mitchell, Why’s he got to be married? Smiling at Mitchell, sensing a warming within her groin, forcing her eyes from the young man that sat across from her, lifting the top sheet, Elizabeth studied the heavily written, angrily underlined query…
Subconsciously still thinking of herself as a fat person, yet she thought, If I’m so beautiful, then how come men aren’t throwing themselves at me? Why? After all I’ve been through! After all I’ve done to make myself look good… beautiful, in fact! How come I’m not buried in men? Why? How come?
Why: because, as an overweight child—as a fat child—Elizabeth had been taunted and tormented by other children.
Why: because, as a teenager, Elizabeth had been snubbed and rejected by those whom she most wanted to be accepted by.
How come: as a mechanism of self-defense, Elizabeth Herzon had taught herself to put forth a show of contempt and indifference.
Later, after losing a bit more than seventy pounds, as a beautiful, twenty-one-year-old woman—unable to shed years of an indifferent, contemptuous attitude—Elizabeth’s personality repulsed or intimidated most of the young men she met. Besides, most of the men would rationalize, Any woman looking as Elizabeth looks must have boyfriends, at least one boyfriend.
So in addition to old attitudes, Elizabeth Herzon’s newly found egotism at play, knowing an intimate relationship would mean the eventual showing of her stretch-marked, mushy body, which she was nowhere ready to allow…
However, Elizabeth Herzon really liked Mitchell Lipensky and did allow her guard to drop.
Thinking, actually hoping the young woman’s attitude towards him was nothing more than that of an extremely friendly co-worker, because his feelings were more, much more than just those of a friendly co-worker.
Actually, thinking he loved Elizabeth Herzon—other than the “accidental” touching of bodies within the narrow corroder of filing cabinets—Mitchell Lipensky knew if he so much as touched Elizabeth it would open a dam of passion that he was sure he would be powerless to stop.
So, yes, he did return Elizabeth’s friendly gaze and, yes, he did melt within the warmth of Elizabeth’s smile and, Oh, God, he did feel the touch of her body when they accidentally brushed against each other in the narrow corridor of filing cabinets. And, Oh, yes, having honey colored-streaked hair, and being beautiful… unbelievably beautiful and having the type of body he’d always fantasized over, as men are able, at times, to fantasize the impossible, Elizabeth Herzon—she should only know—had become the embodiment of Mitchell Lipensky’s masturbatory daydreams. But fearing the breakup of his marriage that had so recently mended, outside of the meeting of their eyes and the accidental brushing of their bodies and, Oh, yeah the envisioning of Barbara’s beautiful breasts and beautiful body and, Oh, God! the warmth of her vagina that Mitchell Lipensky envisioned in his daydreams… remained only in his daydreams.
©September 10 , 2012 / Mark M. Lichterman