Up later than usual, feeling pretty wired. Dinner was two family sized pizzas, eaten slowly over the night as I surfed the web, following AS's recommendations. There are, I discovered, a hell of a lotta sites out there devoted to fat chicks: seems like every other unmatched plus-size has her own website devoted to showing herself off to prospective suitors. Or perhaps I'm just putting a cynical spin on things: many of these gals write about how important it is to put themselves on-line, demonstrate it's okay to be a fat chick in this world. Perhaps what I first took for single girl Desperation is really Affirmation.

Or a combination of the two.

In any case, once I started surfing, it was difficult to stop. Saw plenty of different body types: some smaller than me, some my size, some capable of giving Patti Dorian a run for her money (if any of 'em were capable of running, that is). A lotta fat womanhood to take in. If I can ever get to sleep, I'm probably be dreaming super-sized angels hovering overhead.

But what really wigged me out were the so-called "feeder" and weight gain sites. First one I came across had this cartoon pic on the opener of a naked, very fat lady diving face into a massive chocolate cake. The woman was rendered larger than life - with a belly so big it's a wonder she didn't tip over.

A second site opened with an even more unnerving jpg.: a graphic of a globular woman being force fed off a conveyor belt; the lady was strapped into her chair and had sweat beads on her forehead. Both sites promised pictures, morphs, stories and chat for "feeders and feedees." After brief inspections of each, I quickly skeedaddled.

What the html is this all about? I'm too fried right now to even articulate a better response, so perhaps I'll hold it off 'til Monday. Think I'll boil a soup-sized mug of Swiss Miss hot chocolate, add a handful of mini-marshmallows and force myself to go to bed. See ya next Monday!

10/12/01
[5:23 p.m.]

Found an XXXL denim bustier dress in Bea's pile of twenty-sixes: hadn't noticed it before because I wasn't looking in that size, I guess. Very sexy, but it still gave me a moment of pause. The top totally shows off my arms and shoulders, and, well, my upper arms are lot more jigglesome than they used to be. "Do it!" Bea encouraged. "My boyfriend Alec loved me in it when I could wear it!"

Boyfriend? I asked. Turns out Bea's been going out with one of the cooks at Sinorak's Smorgasbord (yes, the "S." place) over last year. She showed me a photo of a rotund young man seated at a picnic table, double-decker hamburger in a Kaiser bun in hand. The lower button of his Hawaiian shirt had come undone, showing a flash of pink belly. Always check your fasteners before the camera snaps, kids!

"Looks like he could use a friend with larger clothes, too," I joked. Bea and her three chins smiled.

"You know guys," she smirked. "No sense of how they really look dressed."

I dunno, I thought. Tripper's a guy, and he has a fair sense of how to dress. But I kept that thought to myself.

I donned the dress - it was snugger than I expected, but definitely worked. After taking stock of myself, I asked Bea when she had to go into work. 3:00, she told me - so I pulled together everything I liked in my new size and invited her to lunch "on me."

My assignment was one of those chain restaurants with a funny mascot name and prefab kitsch on its walls, favored by young professionals and collegians - so I was curious as to how they'd treat a coupla hungry fat gals comin' in for lunch. Our waitress turned out to be a middle-aged pro. She didn't raise an eyebrow when the two of us ordered the most diet-bustin' lunch possible. A platter of potato skins (with sour cream) for each of us; two plates of avocados; half pound burgers with all the fixin's; soup and pasta salad; large fruit smoothies; plus two large slices of German chocolate cake for dessert. Our server was prompt and friendly, and I enjoyed getting to know Bea better. Nice to be around a gal who's not afraid of a decent meal.

Told her about my boss' invitation - and my concerns about his sincerity. Bea just nodded and said, "There are guys attracted to women like us. Not every man is into bony bitches, thank goodness."

I knew that, I said - leaving out my brief correspondences with AS - but it was still an unanswered question whether Tripper fit into the I-Like-'Em-Large-and-Lovely category.

"If he doesn't, to hell with him," she said, matter-of-factly, waving her last bite of cake in emphasis. I agreed, but I was clearly not as nonchalant as I was acting. Once I dropped Bea off at work, I hit the drive-thru for an extra large double Heath Blizzard - just to steel my courage. Sat in the office parking lot for five minutes, double and triple checking my face to make sure I hadn't smeared my makeup over lunch or dropped some chocolate ice cream down the front of my bustier. When I finally passed inspection, I sighed and entered the building.

I needn't have worried. One look at me from across the room, and you could practically hear an orchestra swell. "Brought some reports," I said breezily, and I walked to his desk with as much deliberate body play as I could muster. (My arms weren't the only part of me that was jiggling, lemme tell you.) I'd never heard a man literally gulp! before.

"Great," Tripper finally said. "Looks like you've been keeping busy." I told him that I'd just done lunch at another assignment and could probably have the report done tonight.

"No rush," he responded, then he asked if I'd been able to work things out for the weekend. It was, he reiterated, just a day trip, but he really thought it'd be fun to have me come along.

What can I say? I told him yes.

10/12/01
[10:12 a.m.]

Okay, time to take stock of this size twenty-six body. Don't have a full-length mirror in the place, but I took a pad into the bathroom and did a quick overview in the vanity mirror. (Why do they call 'em vanities when the bathroom light hides so little?) In my jeans and half sleeve top, I see:

• A round-faced woman with more than one chin, a pair of cheeks that threaten to press against the lower part of my wide nose, almond-shaped eyes and a too-wide mouth (the better to eat twenty-three different varieties of sushi, my dear!).

• Generous Valkyrie breasts that are straining against my top, revealing more cleavage than I recall Beatrice showing.

• A still-defined waist that is filling in more every day - at its apex, it comes close to sticking out as far as my boobs.

• Child-bearing hips that look like they could bear quints.

But, hey, if it's good enough for all those "healthily Nordic" guys, who's to say it also isn't good enough for Tripper? What I need to do is check the man out before giving his offer a yea or nay: see if the spark of interest I know I saw in his eyes last week still exists. First, I'm gonna call Bea, though, and see if I can pull together something a little sexier from her selection. So what if it's a little young? With enough cleavage, I bet I can render that irrelevant.

10/12/01
[7:53 a.m.]

This could've opened with a rant on the unreliable nature of women's sizing if I'd been more careless. Got up this a.m. and attempted to don one of Bea's jeans. But I couldn't get the first two easily up my thighs. Third pair went on without much difficulty, though. I was all set to go off on what a pain it was when three different size twenty-twos didn't fit the same - 'til I noticed that the tag on the pants I was wearing said 26, not 22. Must've pulled 'em off the wrong pile by mistake.

Wonder if Bea'd be willing to swap the other pairs for some more comfy?

I was getting ready to return my reports to the office - reviewing 'em one last time while nibbling on some Danishes - when I received a call from Tripper. "Sorry to have missed you the last few days," he opened. "I was called in on a few things." He asked me if my first checks had arrived okay.

I assured him that they had. I'd deposited 'em both and to the best of my knowledge, neither one had bounced. He chuckled over the phone line, then got to the point. "Wanted to know if you'd like to come up north with me this weekend. Need to do a little business, but it would mainly be for fun."

Now this sounds like a date, I thought. But I decided to play it cagey. "Don't know," I hedged. "Had some plans for the weekend - may need to do some reshuffling. I'll let you know this afternoon. You gonna be in the office?"

It'll just be a day trip, Tripper reassured me. An excursion into the big city.

"Sounds divine," I said, nearly missing my mouth with my Danish, I was so excited. "I'll see what I can do."