Woman of Substance Read Free

to have to work harder to be stronger. She slipped off the sweatshirt, threw her slacks into the hamper, then reached around, unhooked the bra, and unzipped her body suit. She let out a sigh of relief as she slid the last of the heavy padding from her arms. Much better. Now she knew that she’d need the cooling packs when she was indoors. Seeing body parts, the polyester torso with careful stitching around foam pendulum breasts, an apron belly, and the stuffed and dimpled leggings, strewn on her bed was creepy. She arranged her wig on the stand, removed the latex neck roll, and finally rolled the wax away from around her gums and discarded the wet mass into the wastebasket. She felt the hot furnace air against her neck, then pushed her fingers through her sticky hair and reached for her dressing gown.
    For months, she had felt something was missing from her research about women’s weight and body image. Then Nadine, her professor’s office administrator, challenged Robbie when she said, “You can research all you like, but you’ll never understand what it truly means to be fat. You’re tall, slim, with that cute short hair and amazing hazel eyes. It’s different in your world than it is for some women.”
    Later on the same day, Robbie had opened the heavy door and pressed the bell for the meeting room. The security door had unlocked. She could still see the light reflected on the high-waxed tiles. The three women had been seated at a round table. Robbie had slumped into her chair at her meeting with the women who had volunteered to be part of her study. She looked around and said quietly, “A friend told me today I won’t understand what it’s like to be fat until I am.”
    Mavis shook out her shoulder-length sun-streaked hair and nodded. “Hello to you, too.”
    Sharon sighed and shrugged her shoulders, then crossed her thick calves and ankles, wearing her ever-present white socks and runners.
    Margaret’s fashion ring flashed while she drank from a glass of water before she said, “We agree. We just didn’t know how to tell you.”
    “Sorry. Hi, thanks for being here.” Robbie held her palms up on the table. “What am I going to do? I’m too far into this, and I need to defend this thesis by December.” She thought about the hours of interviews, the writing and rewriting of her thesis statement.
    “I’ll wear one of those listening devices just like a PI, and you can hear what some people say to me,” Mavis suggested as she flipped her hair behind one ear.
    “Thanks, but you really can’t count on someone being rude or insensitive every day.”
    The women looked at each other. “Oh yes, we can,” they said in unison.
    “But according to all of you, I still won’t be close enough.”
    “How about you eat a lot?” Sharon asked. Sharon had been the first woman to volunteer. She wore white v-neck T-shirts and jean Capri pants even on the cool days.
    “I couldn’t gain enough weight in such a short time.”
    “How much do you like ice cream and brownies?” Mavis offered. “Baking is my passion.” Her bangle bracelets chimed as they rode around her wrist while Mavis pretended to stir a mixture in a bowl.
    “What about dressing up to look like you’re fat? Men do it all the time. The movies are full of those characters. Whenever there’s a costume party, men seem to find triple D bras and stuff them.” Sharon stood and struck a pose showing off her assets. She flipped her chestnut braided hair across her shoulder and the end tipped toward her cleavage in the V of her shirt.
    “I’ve been at those parties and watched the movies, too. It could work. Where would I start?” Robbie brought out her pen and paper from her backpack.
    “You know you’d be doing something unusual, don’t you? Women don’t usually dress to look bigger,” Margaret pointed out. She always appeared with full makeup and color-coordinated jackets, pants, shoes, and purse.
    “I wonder why we don’t want to take up