All of Me Loves All of You - Chapter One

Evelyn Williams has always been overweight. Even now, she still has a problem keeping the weight off. When she decides to take pole dancing for fitness, she never expects a man to train her. 

Evelyn’s instructor is Terrell Wertz. Terrell is gorgeous and fit. It's obvious that he's out of Evelyn's league. Furthermore, he probably wouldn't even look twice at a big chick like her, which makes her even more determined to lose the extra pounds.

Terrell is enticed by the pretty-faced, thick chick he has to train. He can tell she has a low self-esteem and probably thinks guys like him wouldn't go for girls like her. She couldn't be more wrong. He wasn't always drop-dead gorgeous and muscular. Can he teach Evelyn about loving herself even at her current size?

Chapter One

“Like I’m Invisible”

E

velyn Williams lowered her head, letting her long, dark hair hide most of her face as she slinked out of the half-empty break room. Even though she’d only eaten tuna fish on a bed of lettuce, she could sense condescending eyes burning into her skin. It made her feel like a fawn that had wandered away from the herd being watched by a ravenous wolf. Her chest tightened. She fought the urge to turn around to seek out the culprits or to find out if it was just her overactive imagination.

She always felt eyes on her when she ate. No matter where she was sent to work by the temp agency, she was always the “fat chick,” that everyone gawked at, whispered about or said downright rude things about. In one instance, someone had made a joke about her chair breathing a sigh of relief once she’d gotten up. She couldn’t count the number of times a person had walked past and muttered, “Oink! Oink!” One overly insensitive jerk had asked her, “Have you had your thyroid checked?”

She hated being the size she was, but not matter how many diets she’d tried, she just couldn’t lose any substantial amount of weight. (And she had had her thyroid checked; it was fine.) She’d pretty much given up on ever being slim.

If Evelyn thought she’d been humiliated enough in the break room, she’d soon be proven wrong.

She trudged back to her assigned department and returned to the file room to commence putting away files in alpha and numeric order. Being that she was only five feet, three inches tall, she had to use a step stool to reach the files on the second shelf. While she stood on the stool, the supervisor, Ingrid, hurried toward her, blowing badly permed, curly, red (mostly orange-ish) hair out of her eyes as she rushed forward. She had an anxious expression on her pale face.

Her hands resembled two frantic birds fluttering around as she waved them at Evelyn. “Oh, dear, you don’t have to do that. Please come down from there. If you find any files that need to be put away on the top shelves, just place them to the side and I’ll have Mary take care of them. We can’t have you falling in your condition.”

Evelyn’s brow rose as she stared down at the too pale woman. “M-my condition?” she stammered.

“Yes. You are expecting, right?”

Evelyn felt the heat rush to her face, turning it a different shade and even though she was caramel-complexioned, she was sure the woman could see her flush.

“No, I’m not pregnant,” she said, then added in a flat tone, “I’m just fat.”

The woman’s face went slack, and her mouth opened slightly then snapped shut. She gulped and stared at Evelyn wide-eyed for a full ten seconds. Saying nothing further, she sprinted off with her face flaming redder than Evelyn’s.

Evelyn continued to file until it was time to sign out and go home, which she did on the computerized time sheet. Once finished, she collected her purse and cell phone from the desk drawer in her temporary cubicle.

She glanced around the empty department. All the permanent employees had already made a beeline for the door and were probably squeezed in the elevator like a can of packed sardines.

She wasn’t in a rush. She was one hundred percent positive no one was holding the elevator on her behalf anyway. She hated being the last person to squeeze into a crowded elevator. She always thought the people were praying the elevator wouldn’t break because of the excess weight she’d added.

On her way out, she spotted the supervisor, Ingrid, standing with another woman who was thin but toned and tanned. Evelyn heard her Ingrid say, “It’s such a shame because she has a really pretty face.” The other woman replied with a “Tsk. Tsk.”

Ignoring the women’s snide remarks, she plastered on a bright smile and said, “Have a great weekend. See you on Monday.” She turned the corner and headed for the elevators before either of them could reply.

Once on the elevator, she punched the number one and watched it light up. The compartment jerked slightly and made a noise as it slowly descended. She breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing she needed was to get stuck in the elevator.

She leaned back against the back wall and let out another deep sigh as she thought about Ingrid’s words. Even though she’d heard such comments and also had people assume that she was pregnant, it still bothered her. She knew her weight was the reason she didn’t aspire to do anything meaningful with her life. She was content to take one temporary job after the next as a file clerk.

Being a file clerk was easy. She didn’t have to be around a great deal of people. She didn’t have to compete with any of the thin, beautiful, predominately white employees that worked at the Fortune 500 companies the temp agencies sent her to. She could just be inconspicuous and file her fat life away. Everyone treated her like she was invisible anyway… except when they gawked at her with condescending, judgmental eyes.

When she got to her 2003 Mazda 626, she slid behind the steering wheel and immediately hopped right back out. The scorching hot seat burned her butt. She really needed to buy one of those sun shades for her front window.

She opened the back door and grabbed the sweater that she kept in the back seat and spread it out to sit on. She turned the key in the ignition and debated on whether or not to run the air conditioner. She’d heard it burned more gas, but didn’t know if that was an urban myth or not. Feeling the stifling Florida heat, she thought Fuck it, and switched the air gauge on. As soon as she did that, the car’s engine sputtered and died.

“Oh, no,” she groaned, hoping she wouldn’t have to call AAA to tow her car. She didn’t have enough money for cab fare, and she dreaded catching the city bus. She looked heavenward, offered up a prayer, flipped the a/c off and turned the key in the ignition again. The car roared back to life.

“I guess that means I’ll be driving around in 90 degree weather with no freaking air,” she said. She could picture herself driving and sweating like Kunta Kinte about to have his foot chopped off in the movie, Roots. “FML,” she muttered.

When she arrived home, she let out a grateful breath. Even though it was a one-bedroom apartment, she loved her place. It was her haven. She could shut herself off from the rest of the world, which she did often. She’d decorated the walls with various pieces of African art she’d found at yard sales or the thrift store. Instead of store-bought curtains, she’d made hers with sheets that she’d purchased at Goodwill for half price. She’d attached ribbon strips to the back of the sheets with hot glue and hung them with a curtain rod. It had been easy to do after watching several YouTube videos on DIY projects. She’d even made pillows in different sizes for the couch. She’d learned that from watching YouTube videos, too.

She looked around her comfy living room and smiled then kicked off her low-heels. Walking in her stocking-covered feet, she padded over to feed her tropical fish and then placed cat food in the dish for her finicky cat, Nutmeg.

She wasn’t hungry, but she found herself plopping down in front of the TV, watching a re-run of Reba and crunching on a handful of barbeque corn chips. She washed the chips down with a tall glass of sweet tea.

She pushed the half-empty glass of tea to the side and grabbed her Sony laptop, powering it on. Once it revved up, she accessed Facebook to see what everyone in cyber world was up to. She sighed aloud as she read one happy status after another.

Another deep sigh escaped her. So many of her Facebook friends seemed to lead such awesome lives, and she envied them. They traveled, went on cruises, rode motorcycles, skydived, and did all sorts of other fun stuff. For the millionth time, she wished she wasn’t so overweight and could do some of the things they did.

She read one person’s status update with a link to 101 Things To Do Before You Die. She clinked on the link to read them. Of course, one of the top bucket list items was “Achieve Your Ideal Weight.” She clicked some of the links under the topic and read the articles. The stories were inspiring, but she knew she wasn’t going to apply any of the information to her life. She didn’t feel enthused about counting calories. She didn’t want to join a gym to be gawked at by thin people as she sweated like a walrus. She liked bread, rice, pasta and everything else and didn’t want to cut it out of her diet.

“Maybe I’ll start buying brown rice instead of white,” she said with a chuckle and logged off the laptop.

She walked into her bedroom and stopped in front of the mirror. “Who am I kidding? I need more than just brown rice to shed these extra pounds.” She pinched her love handles and frowned.

It’s such a shame because she has a really pretty face.

Evelyn surveyed herself as she did every night. She was pretty. She had a smooth, caramel-colored complexion. Her skin was flawless, and she didn’t have to wear make-up at all. He plump lips were full and pouty. Her natural curly hair flowed to her shoulders. Her mother often told her, “I am so glad you didn’t inherit nappy hair like your sisters.”

Evelyn exhaled. She would gladly give them her “good” hair if she could trade it for either of their thin bodies.

She had an older sister, Karen, and a younger sister, Denise, and both of them had their mother’s physique. She, on the other hand, took after their father, a stocky man with a solid build.

While she stood gazing at herself, her cell phone vibrated. From the familiar ringtone, “Turn Down for What?” she knew it was her oldest sister, Karen who was always “turned up.”

“Hello?” she answered.

“What’s up, Sis?”

“Nothing. I was about to take a shower and go to bed.”

“What do you mean go to bed? Girl, it’s not even 6 o’ clock.”

“So?”

“You’re young. You should be out living it up. It’s Friday.”

“Again, I say, so?”

“Get dressed and I’ll come by and swoop you up, and we’ll go to happy hour. I’m supposed to meet this guy that I’ve been chatting with on Plenty of Fish. I don’t want to meet him by myself. I need you to come with me.”

Evelyn exhaled loudly, hoping Karen could hear her annoyance through the phone. “Not again, Karen. The last guy you met was a weirdo. He bit his fingernails down past the cuticles. And the one before that had that strange shoe fetish. He stole a pair of your Christian Louboutin.”

“Please don’t remind me of that. Those were one of my favorite pair of Red Bottoms. He probably gave them to one of his other hoochie girlfriends who clearly deserve to wear flip flops.”

 Evelyn shook her head. “Why do you keep meeting these lame men online?”

“Stop sounding like Mama. You need to go online and meet a man. You can’t have the Sahara Desert between your legs forever.”

She frowned. She hated when Karen threw the fact that she was a twenty-three year old virgin in her face.

“At least I’m not a T.H.O.T. like you,” she insulted, wanting to hurt her sister a little.

Instead of getting mad, Karen just laughed. “I am living my life, and I don’t care who has a problem with it. Girl, when you finally have sex you’ll understand why I like it so much.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes as if her sister could see her through the phone.

“Now, get dressed. I’m on my way, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

“OK,” she said half-heartedly.

“And wear something cute. You never know. You might meet a man to take home tonight.”

“Yeah, right.” She gazed at her reflection in the mirror again and frowned.

Only if he’s partial to Shamu…well, not quite…more like a baby Manatee.