She was so heartbroken when her college fiancée broke off with her and moved on to another woman, who she called a whore, that she became a case of arrested development.
I've come to think of a first heartbreak as a rite of passage. Except when a person doesn't get past it.
She was a sweet, feminine woman. The type who wore soft pink angora and pearls, a Viking blond, lively blue eyes, fine pink skin, and a pretty smile.
He had given her a dainty pearl ring.
Memory can be flawed. I saw the pearl ring. But - a fraternity pin too?
She never dated again.
Not once.
She became massively and morbidly, overweight. If you are what you eat, a potato chip.
I didn't recognize her.
She barely fit in my car.
She had crushes on soap opera stars. Fantasies. A lifetime of keeping men away with an armor of fat.
She went home from work and ate. Not just potato chips. Meals for two.
C 2021
Notes: I'm aware that fat is attractive to a subculture. Mostly it's illness.
More Notes: This Isn't a Fat Shaming post. However, if the Shame Game need be applied, let's start with her family who apparently had/have so much phony "unconditional love" that they never staged an intervention to get her into a diet camp or foodie rehab or psychotherapy. It's easy to gain 20 pounds in lockdown. It's not easy to bloom to 300 pounds.
