Woman of Substance Read Free Page A

space. They used to in the past. Remember bustles on skirts.” Robbie tapped her pen on her teeth.
    “But how about corsets? Haven’t you been listening? It’s hard in our world.” Sharon stuffed her hands into her jean pocket.
    Margaret leaned forward in her chair. “Or the new shape garments as they’re calling them today. Have you ever seen a robust woman model one of those elastic numbers? The other day on a runway show, I could see the model’s pelvic bones through the so-called shape wear and don’t tell me they are designed for models. But you know I was tempted.”
    “Skinny wasn’t exactly easy either. I was called chicken legs. Hmmm, is that why I took up running?” Robbie lifted her pant legs up showing how her childhood legs had been replaced by firm calves.
    “Yeah, try fatty, fatty two by four can’t get through the bathroom door so she pooped on the floor.” Margaret mimicked a child’s voice. Her blue eyes seemed brighter than minutes ago.
    “Or, ‘save some food for Biafra,’” Mavis added.
    “Okay, it was harder for some of us than others. If I’m going to do this, I need to get started. My defense is the end of this semester. Any ideas?”
    Sharon laughed. “We can lend you clothes but we have to brainstorm how you will fill them out.”
    Robbie sat straighter and leaned forward. If anyone could help her solve this dilemma, Mavis, Sharon, and Margaret would. They were talented and had many years of experience as plus-sized women.
    “For your height, you could add another seventy-five pounds and still move around comfortably,” Sharon suggested. “Watching the different women at the gym, you could be that size easy.”
    “Adding the appearance of over seventy pounds would bring me up to approximately two hundred and ten,” Robbie calculated.
    “Perfect. You start throwing around numbers over two hundred and people cringe,” Sharon said, flipping her braid down her back again.
    “I’d give my eye teeth to be two hundred and ten,” Margaret added, snapping the closure on her black patent purse.
    Robbie’s cell phone alarm rang. “Time. I promised I wouldn’t ask for more than two hours a meeting, and we’re there.”
    Sharon rubbed her hands together. “This will be fun. We’ll call the project, ‘Fat like Me.’” Sharon paused. “I suggest we all go home and email Robbie our ideas. On Friday we can compare notes. I’ll use my lunch hour for a little research.”
    Friday came and Margaret, Sharon, Mavis, and Robbie sat around the table in the meeting room and discussed their findings.
    “How bad do you want to do this? It could be quite expensive,” Sharon said. “I’ve found places where you can order a custom-made body suit by the same people who make the costumes for the sitcoms. They’re not cheap.” Some of her chestnut hair had escaped from her braid and she started to unwind it.
    “I’ve found something closer to home. The costume department at the Globe Theatre has a line on a female robust torso we could alter. But it will cost,” Margaret offered. “I asked Hubby if we could contribute to the project. He said he’d think about it, if you need extra.”
    “I’ve been researching as well, and I’ve decided if we can find a place to rent a suit, I’ll spend my inheritance from my godmother. She hoped I’d use it for a trip after I graduated, but I can’t graduate if I don’t pass,” Robbie said. “Thank you, Margaret. That is very kind of you to offer.”
    “Looks like we have a plan,” Margaret said. “Do you want to call the Globe Theatre or should I? I might have an in, I used to volunteer on opening nights.”
    “I will call and if I have trouble I’ll get back to you, Margaret. I’ll keep you up-to-date until our next meeting with emails. Thank you for using your time for this.”
    “Are you kidding? It’s our pleasure. This is as important to us as your grade is to you. This may be significant to many women out there. You never