Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Strange Honesty: June Schmitt

June Schmitt was a big girl. Looking at her it was hard to believe she had been born premature, that’s where she had gotten her name. She’d been born in May and her parents had been relieved to see her live through June.

At first she had been an elfish baby girl, with soft dark hair and big brown eyes set in a head too big for her body. But it didn’t take her long to catch up to the other children, and then some.

By the time she was four, June had acquired the full ruddy face of the others in the Schmitt family. By the time she was six, June outweighed most of the other children in her class. And by the time June celebrated her 8th birthday, her pediatrician told her parents that June was morbidly obese.

The humiliation June felt was intense, as her parents enrolled her in Chubby’s Summer Gymboree that summer after her 8th birthday. Waddling her way through funcersizes, June was undoubtedly deeply scared for the rest of her life. Having started her life with a critical need for weight gain, June would spend the rest of it battling her Weight Problem.

It’s not that June was the only one in her family who carried a few extra pounds. Her brothers and sister were both decidedly solid people and as both her parents approached middle age, there was definite spread. But, only for June was there annual warnings from the pediatrician, the constant battle to find wearable clothing. The really big, sagging body that made even fat people turn away in disgust.

When June was fifteen, she developed type II diabetes, also known as adult onset diabetes. The Schmitt’s baby June was all grown up.

She had no choice, June had to loose weight. Diet and exercise were out of the question June had been on some regime or other for a decade now. Diet and exercise didn’t work for June. If June wanted to live, she was going to have to go all the way. She was going to have to be hardcore.

Hardcore like slit your belly open and cut and staple and sew.
Live on a spoon full of food and a handful of vitamins hardcore.

And hardcore worked. June was out of the woods, shedding pound after pound until she hit a wall, slightly above her ideal weight.

But it was okay. The few extra pounds were okay, the folds of skin hanging where before they had been filled out with fat were okay. It was all okay because she could finally wear a size 16.

And this is where June stayed all through high school. She was a fairly pretty girl, with long black hair falling in ringlets and full lips, and the extra weight she carried around made her breasts larger then they might otherwise have been. And much like a nursing 6 month old, the instinct to latch on kicks in with the average pubertal boy as well. So for the first time in a long time, June began to feel less then monstrous. Years as the fat kid had given her a sweet disposition and an eagerness to please. She enjoyed the new variety of clothing that became available now that she could fit into smaller sizes. And June began to make friends and more often then not, she had dates for events.

But it wasn’t until college that June met her first real boyfriend.

His name was Maurice and he was a rhetoric major.

He had hazel eyes and kinky dark brown hair which, when he shed it onto June’s pillow, looked remarkably like pubic hair. He also had that distinct type of cloying sexuality which left you wondering if he’d been getting laid since he was 13 or if you were his first. He could very well have been taking some sweet piece of 15 year old ass or cumming in a Kleenex through his 20th birthday but, not surprisingly, there was something that made June miserable in the way Maurice would lay in bed next to her after sex and make allusions. Never exactly coming out with explicit details but instead telling June how she had been so great it had reminded him of this one time when he was 16… Or even worse, in the way June would hold her breath when the opportunity to compliment her had been left wide open only to watch Maurice blissfully stupid, or pretending anyway, pass it up for some historical foray.

But for June, every artfully dodged complimenting opportunity on Maurice’s part, every time of feeling like shit, was made worthwhile by the way she felt when Maurice gave her a rare compliment. What Maurice lacked in frequency he more then made up for in the luxurious, elaborate nature of his compliment. And being a rhetoric major, he had the language skills to do it too. Every time Maurice would slyly slip June a compliment, she would grab at it greedily. She fawned over these compliments for days after Maurice had paid them to her, revisiting them until finally ever little luster was worn out of them and she began holding her breath for the next.

Perhaps it was Maurice’s stinginess with his compliments, perhaps it was simply June’s nature but again, like at fat camp, the path for June’s life was set and she would spend the rest of it battling her Man Problem.

After Maurice, June discovered something: when she first started sleeping with someone, he lavished her with compliments, when she had been fucking him for a while he almost never complimented her.

June masturbated to fell good. She had sex with people so she could feel wanted. She hated herself for it but…

Long term relationships and June’s need for affirmation were simply incompatible.

No comments: