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Fantasy Diary
by T.D.

August 28 1994: Dear Diary, Well, the fat camp has finally ended. I thought I would either shoot someone or one of them would kill me before it was over. Trying to teach physical fitness to fatties is extremely tiring. I am running around all day, leading exercises, supervising diets, and generally making life miserable for everyone, including myself. Most all the people here hate me with a passion! I have decided to move to a small town in Kansas and take a job there at the local spa. One of the fat ladies at the camp said she knew the Manager, and could get me a job. Living is pretty cheap there, and I need to save all the money I can so I can start my Masters program. Hopefully I'll make enough to start sometime next year.

September 4, 1994: Dear Diary, What a week! I moved into a small apartment over the Labor Day holiday. It's nothing special, but it's cheap. There is a bed, two chairs, a table, dresser, sofa, a small kitchen with stove and refrigerator, and a bathroom. The only mirror I have is a face mirror at the sink. The landlady demanded 6 months rent in advance. That took care of most of my money. This town must not have more than a few hundred people living here. Some very nice folks helped me move in, and they brought me more dinners than I could eat in a week. From what I can tell, this town has a diner, a gas station, a combination grocery store and post office, a hardware store, Laundromat, and a bakery. I will try to get out and explore some tomorrow. I haven't found the spa yet, and the number I was supposed to reach them on has been disconnected.

September 12, 1994: Dear Diary, I've spent all week looking for some type of job here. The health spa went out of business without telling me. One of those fly-by-night companies trying to take peoples' money. After walking around all week asking people about work, I finally got a job at the diner. The cashier they had just got married and moved off. I think they just want a pretty face up front to attract customers. I start tomorrow. The boss there is a lady I had at my camp this summer. I guess she felt bad about the spa falling through. The people here are really nice. I was invited to dinner four times this week by different folks. After church on Sunday, everyone got together for a big potluck. It seems that everyone in this town is famous for cooking something special. They all offered me some of their food, and it was all delicious. Well, from now on, food won't be a problem. The diner gives employees free meals. Good thing too, considering what they're paying me.

October 2, 1994: Dear Diary, It's been almost a month now since I moved here. The diner is really boring. All I do all day is sit at the cash register and take checks. The uniforms they gave me for work are really ugly. They're huge, and they fit me like a tent. Even so, I think every guy in town, single or married, has come into the diner and tried to hit on me. They are always offering to buy me lunch or some dessert, even after I tell them I have already eaten. But after two days on the job, I was so bored that I started accepting a few offers. I've been out on a few dates, but there is not much to do here. There is a movie theater, so all the guys take me to the movies after dinner, buy me some popcorn and candy, and then take me to the bakery for some pie and ice cream. If I don't have a date, I usually just sit in front of the TV with some chips until I get sleepy. On the weekends, people invite me to their homes for meals. The portions they serve are always enormous. It's a challenge for me to finish it all. Usually after one of those meals, I'm so full I have to go home and lie down awhile. Thanks to a foul up with the payroll, I haven't been paid yet. The boss says she will get it sorted out soon.

October 8, 1994: Dear Diary, Another week has gone by, and I still haven't been paid. The boss said I should get a check by Monday. Since I didn't have any money, I couldn't go to the Laundromat and wash my clothes. When I mentioned this to Mrs. Long, the lady who lives next to me, she offered to wash my clothes while I was at work. She came into the diner after the lunch rush almost in tears. Apparently one of her kids had put some paint into the washer to see what it would do. My entire inventory of underwear was ruined. She was so distressed that she had bought me several pair of underwear to replace the ruined ones. They were all plain white, and although they didn't have size labels on them, they looked like they were too big. I tried to tell her that it was an accident, and that she didn't have to buy new ones, but she insisted that I take them. We were creating quite a scene, so to calm things, I agreed to take her clothes. She also said that she would feel better if she could do my laundry at her house from now on to pay me back. I really felt embarrassed, but didn't want to insult the lady. I agreed, we hugged, she left, and I went back to sitting at my chair. When I got home I tried the underwear on, and found that they fit better than I thought. I guess I don't have to spend my paycheck on clothes or laundry. All I ever wear anymore is my diner uniform and my baggy jeans. I should be able to put all my money towards college.

October 23, 1994: Dear Diary, I think I am finally being accepted by the ladies at the diner. Up till a week ago, the waitresses were friendly, but didn't include me in their gossip sessions. I think they were jealous of all the guys inviting me out and buying me desserts. My boss must have given them some encouragement, because Monday, Sheila invited me to join them for their breakfast bull session. All the waitresses get together early before the breakfast rush and just talk and eat. It was really nice to be included. Almost everyday, one of the girls will bring in something special for everyone to try. A lot of the ladies are on diets, so I end up with a lot of the goodies. We get together again before the lunch and dinner rushes. During the day, at least one of the ladies will see me bored out of my head at the cashiers desk, and bring me a piece of dessert or a plate of the days' special. They smile and wink at me, like they are getting away with murder. I think the boss lets them get away with it because she knows me from camp. It helps the time to pass a little faster, and the ladies don't seem to mind the boys anymore.

November 6, 1994: Dear Diary, Ever since Halloween passed, it seems this town has gone into a holiday mode. From what I understand, every family in town takes a turn having everyone over for a party. All this week, I have spent my evenings crowded into someone's house enjoying holiday snacks and visiting. It certainly helps pass the time. Mrs. Long has been faithfully doing my laundry. She is really nice. She does a great job on the underwear; they come back looking brand new every week. However, I think she is washing my uniforms in hot water. Every wash they shrink a little more. Back to all the parties. The diner employees are having their party December 10th. Every day the ladies bring food into the diner and have the others sample it. It seems that they value my opinion a lot, because they all give me their plates of cookies or whatever. So far they are all great. If they bring everything they have brought so far to the real party, they are not going to have enough room for people to sit.

December 3, 1994: Dear Diary, For the last week, everyone has been busy preparing for the big party on the 10th. Lots of decorations and food. The ladies here continue to bring in more treats, mostly desserts, for everyone to try out. I always have something to sample while I'm sitting at my counter. In addition to all the parties, a lot of the guys are still taking me out. We go and have late dinners at their homes, usually after having attended one of the evening parties. It's fun to have all these guys after you. Today one of the waitresses brought me a piece of pie to eat after lunch. I leaned over my counter to take it, and several buttons popped right off my uniform. I told her about my problem with Mrs. Long shrinking my uniforms and jeans. She understood, and brought out a new set of uniforms for me to wear. She also gave me some new jeans and some dresses for church. I had been skipping church the last month because none of my clothes would fit anymore. I tried them on, and believe me, it will take Mrs. Long quite some time to shrink these down to where they fit. They are huge, but at least I can wear them.

December 30, 1994: Dear Diary, The diner's holiday party was a huge success! Everyone in town was there, and there was more food than we knew what to do with. All evening, the ladies were giving me their creations to see if I liked them. We were all there till one in the morning cleaning up so the diner could open for breakfast. Even with all the people, there was a ton of food left over. The ladies let me take it all home! Mrs. Long is keeping what I can't fit into my refrigerator at her apartment. The week before Christmas, the diner waitresses and I formed a caroling group and went through town singing to all the people. Everyone invited us in for eggnog and cookies after we sang at their houses. Boy was that fun! Between all the dates, dinner invitations, and the caroling, I am definitely not bored anymore. My only problem is that Mrs. Long is still shrinking my clothes. I bent over to get a cookie off a plate, and my new jeans were so tight, they split right in front of everyone! My boss at the diner took me aside, and I told her about Mrs. Long. She said she understood me not wanting to hurt her feelings. She gave me some of her old dresses and jeans she had in her closet. She said she didn't need them anymore, and that Mrs. Long could continue to wash them and they would still fit for a long time. The people in this town are just fantastic! There are all sorts of New Years parties scheduled, and I have more invitations than I can possibly accept. I will try to attend as many as I can to thank everyone for their kindness.

January 9, 1994: Dear Diary, Well, the holidays are over, and it's back to the old routine. The guys are still coming to the diner to eat desserts with me and to ask me out to dinner and the movies. I finally finished off the last of the holiday leftovers yesterday. The lady who owns the bakery, Mrs. Osborn, offered me a part-time job a couple of days a week. She said I was in there so much that I might as well start getting paid for it. Every night after work there, she sends me home with a new cake or pie or pastry she wants me to try. If I tell her I liked it, it goes into the regular baking schedule. Most nights at the bakery, it is pretty slow, and Mrs. Osborn and I end up talking and eating the leftover items. When I'm not working at the bakery, I usually have a date and end up there anyway. I'm almost never at my apartment in the evenings anymore. My boss at the diner apparently discretely passed the word about my clothing problem to some other ladies in town. They have started to give me some of their old clothes when they see my clothes getting tight. I have more clothes now than I ever had before.

February 13, 1994: Dear Diary, I am sick of winter, especially the winters they have in Kansas. It is always so cold, and the days seem to always be gray. It makes me feel real lazy. Last week, my boss at the diner played a joke on me. One of the boys asked me to join him for some cake and ice cream after the lunch rush. When I sat down on the chair, it started creaking, and before I could stand up, I was flat on my rear with the chair broken into a million pieces. My boss thought this was hilarious, and every time she looked at me she would break out laughing again. The boy was so embarrassed for me he ordered a double dessert to make me feel better. I got my boss back that same evening though. I told her I would lock up, and after she had left I ate all the chocolate cream pie she was going to put on special the next day. I told her they had all spoiled. It took a long time to eat them all, but I did it. That same evening, one of the ladies in town brought me some more clothes. It was a good thing to, because Mrs. Long had almost shrunk me out of my entire inventory. Other than that, nothing special has been happening. I still work at the diner, and work at the bakery most nights. Mrs. Osborn has been planning a big spring blowout, and has been having me sample more things than usual lately. She has fliers all around town advertising for it. Even though it's not till March, she is really uptight, and wants everything to be perfect. I am constantly sampling more food. If I give the slightest indication that something could be improved, she makes another one and has me try it the next night in addition to all the new stuff. I hope March comes soon, or she is going to have a nervous breakdown.

March 17, 1995. Dear Diary, I think I am beginning to see the end of winter approaching. It has been cold and snowy for the last two months. Most of my activity has been the short walk to my car every morning, and then the drive to the diner, and then the bakery later. I think all the women in this town pass the winter baking. I have been eating their gifts of desserts, breads, pastries, etc. for months now. Even so, the cold seems to increase my appetite. I have been spending my pay check at the grocery store buying food. Mrs. Osborn's Spring blowout was yesterday. What an event! For weeks prior, I had been working at the bakery every night, sampling items and trying to calm her down. I always had flour or butter or something on my cloths when I came home, and Mrs. Long faithfully washed them. This means they are shrinking even faster. In fact, when I was walking around during the party, my blouse buttons popped right off. I had only been given the blouse two weeks earlier, and it had been huge then. My boss at the diner just bought new chairs for the tables there. I tried them when they first arrived, and they were all really small. Even my butt hung over on both sides. I mentioned this to her, and she said it was the only complaint she had heard about them. I don't see how this can be true, with all the fat ladies in this town. I received a phone call today from the summer camp. I guess my boss had put in a good word for me, and they want me to return there in June. I said yes because even though I have been trying to save money, I haven't been able to save enough for school. They said most of the same ladies would be back, and they had asked specifically for me. They must have all gotten fat again. Still, it's nice to be appreciated.

April 21, 1995. Dear Diary, Easter is over, and I don't think I could eat another chocolate bunny or Easter cream puff if I tried. The bakery was especially busy prior to Easter. Even so, Mrs. Osborn overestimated the amount of food she needed. I ended up taking home a lot of it so it wouldn't go to waste. Mrs. Osborn lets me handle to store alone quite often now. She thinks that I attract customers. The boys I've been dating come in almost every night, and we sit down and talk over a Black Forrest Cake or some other dessert. Lucky for me, they seem to come in at different times in the evening, so there are never two guys there at the same time. Lots of the ladies come in too. Often they order a dessert, (one for me too), and then remember they are on a diet, and leave it untouched. I eat it so that Mrs. Osborn does not get insulted. The diner is the same as usual. My boss there has taken my comment about the new chairs to heart. She put steel reinforcement bars on my chair so it is stronger. I still feel like I'm sitting in a children's chair though. My hips hang over the sides, and one of my thighs covers the entire seat! I'm glad I'm behind a counter because the last set of uniforms I was given make me look huge! Never fear though; Mrs. Long will soon shrink them down again. I can feel them getting tighter by the day.

May 29, 1995. Dear Diary, Apparently the word has spread that I will be returning to the spa in June because everyone has been telling me how much they are going to miss me. All the ladies in town have been making me goodbye gifts of food for the last month now. All the boys are trying to spend as much time as possible with me as well. Mrs. Long has been showing her concern by washing my clothes more often so that I always look good. This has sped up the shrinking problem immensely. Mrs. Osborn at the bakery has been cooking like a woman possessed, handing me more desserts and gooey buns than ever. She wants me to sample everything before I leave. The waitresses all bring me food everyday to show their appreciation for attracting customers and therefore giving them more tips. Even my boss at the diner has been nice, letting me take home all the desserts that aren't eaten during the day. Now that I'm leaving, I look at places like the diner and my apartment and notice how really small they are. It's like going back to where you lived as a kid and seeing how small everything really was. I look at the space at my cashiers counter, and I see how little room I really had to move around in. The chairs all seem smaller, and my bed and sofa seem really small. The only thing that is getting bigger are the steps up to my apartment. It seems like they are multiplying like rabbits, and getting steeper as well. I work so hard during the day that I get tired climbing them. I end up sweating and gasping for breath, and it takes me longer and longer each day. I told my land lady that my apartment may need some repair after I leave. Lately I have been feeling the floor give when I walk around, and it creaks whenever I take a step. I think she may have some termites. My mattress seems to sag now too. She said she would look into it.

June 4, 1995. Dear Diary, I am writing this in the car as we drive to California and my summer job at the spa. My boss at the diner insisted that she drive me. I think she wants to show off her figure to all the women there. Yesterday evening, the town gave me a goodbye party at the diner. Everyone was there, and I got more food than I know what to do with. Most of it is perishable, so I have been eating like mad so it won't spoil. My bosses' car is a little uncomfortable. It is one of those old cars with the straight line front seat. I never noticed how short my boss was before. I am cramped into my side, while she is stretching her feet to reach the pedals. Her shocks are really bad too. The car constantly leans toward the passenger side, and whenever we go over a bump, my whole body slams against the dash. Her seats are broken, and won't go back any further, and her seat belt is jammed so that I can't get it on. My clothes being so tight doesn't help either. I wish I still had my car, but it broke down a few weeks back. Apparently the suspension was old, and one day it just gave way. The mechanic said it would cost more than the car was worth to fix it. He was a nice guy though, and he ended up buying me a triple banana split to help me feel better. My boss just mentioned to me that the real reason she volunteered to drive is that she also had a job at the spa as an instructor. She showed me the contract she had been mailed. Since I had been receiving my mail through the diner, I asked her if my contract had come in. She smiled and handed me my contract. They must have sent me the wrong contract because it didn't mention anything about salary, and it said that I was paid in full as a guest! I signed it, but I'll have to straighten that out when I get there. I need a raise from last year. My expenses have been piling up lately, and I had to spend almost everything I had left to pay for this trip. For some reason, ever since dinner I have been starving. I guess I miss all the snacks I used to eat at the bakery. My boss agreed to pull into a truck stop so I could get something to eat. I selected the all-you-can-eat buffet. Some of the truckers there took one look at me, and challenged me to an eating contest. I must have looked like an easy mark for them. I was just getting warmed up, and they were all groaning, rubbing their fat beer bellies, and taking Alka-Seltzer. I ate as much as I could just to impress them. I would have eaten more, but the manager shut down the buffet before I was finished. I must say goodbye now. Later tonight we get to the resort, and tomorrow I start at the spa. My boss says she is really looking forward to working with me. She also said that she had heard from a lot of the ladies who were there last year, and that they are really looking forward to seeing me as well. I told my boss not to worry about the first day. All they do is weigh and measure everybody, do a "pinch test" for body fat, and have them do a few exercises. Everyone has to wear those exercise leotards, and it is quite a sight. All the fatties get really embarrassed. That seemed to comfort her. She smiled and laughed. That reminds me; I'll have to make sure my leotard is clean. I haven't had it on since last year. My boss says she has an extra in case I need it, but that it is pretty revealing. Right now I need some sleep. I am exhausted from the days drive, and I need a good nights rest to sleep off the food I just ate. A few too many trips to the dessert bar I guess. I will write more later. Bye!!