Free Getting Waisted by Monica Parker Page A

and introduced himself as Nick, wanting to know who I was. I was about to say no one but then realized . . . I was just a voice on the phone . . . he couldn’t see me. Ta da . I emerged from my black hole ready to play. I was funny, sexy, and sassy. He was so captivated that we talked for several hours, and the next night he called back to talk to me . Before long, those nights morphed into a few weeks. I couldn’t wait to get home from work and become that girl, the one he was so desperate to meet, the one I was so desperate he didn’t.
    I remained convincingly Mata Hari-like until one night he asked me if I had a physical impairment. “Are you part lizard, part woman? Is that why you won’t meet me?”
    I swallowed my panic and laughed as I tossed my head back and went for it, “I am blonde, green-eyed, and fully equipped.” He was on his way.
    I knew this day would come as I jumped into the shower, washed my hair and blew it out into all its blonde glory, wondering if I took a full bottle of diet pills, did a colonic, stuck my fingers down my throat and threw up everything I had ever eaten, wrapped myself in saran and steamed for . . . forget it, it was hopeless. I was like a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade balloon: large and colorful, and in danger of exploding. I was so screwed!
    I squeezed my body into a full body condom, yanking that bitch up over my hips until I could no longer bend. I could barely breathe, but I hauled that thing up as if it were a Polish kielbasa sausage casing, and then I stood very carefully hoping nothing would fly out. My boobs were pushed up so high they looked like floatation devices. Maybe he was into that; maybe he was different and maybe he wouldn’t care. I slid on a black dress knowing full well black magic was what I really needed. The lumps and bumps were definitely smoother but my organs were crushed. I opened a bottle of wine just as the doorbell rang. I sucked in my tummy, but in a nano second of instinctual self-preservation, I answered the door with just my hair showing. “Hi!” Oh God, oh shit . . . he was gorgeous. I tried to get behind a chair but I felt him staring at me . . . His silence was loaded as he looked at me and shook his head. It was subtle but I caught it. I was hurt and angry. “Yup, that’s me—part lizard, part female hippo. . . . Oopsie.” I actually felt sorry for Nick. He was busted and he was unsure of what to do next. The silence between us just kept widening until I stepped forward, patted his hand, and held open the door. We both shared a polite smile. The wine didn’t even have a chance to breathe and poof he was gone.
    He wasn’t different.
    In spite of things not working out between Beverly and her boyfriend, she still arrived home euphoric from climbing the mountain to its summit. Katja wasn’t far behind her, cavalierly carving another notch on her belt. “Another one bites the dust.” I, however, was devastated but in typical fashion I told no one, swallowing my pain with the same fervor as a drunk on a bender, only my poison of choice required chewing—lots of chewing.
    Two weeks later, I was home making popcorn when Nick called. “I miss talking to you.”
    I let out a long held breath. “I miss you, too.” We both missed the banter, the flirtation, and the possibility—but that component was gone. Nick wanted a phone buddy to play with. I wanted the man. Our conversations never got back their groove. He asked why I hadn’t been truthful. I laughed and responded, “We would have been done weeks earlier. We never would have met.”
    He said, “You don’t know that.”
    A touch bitterly, I assured him I did. History was funny that way. Our banter had turned into a battle. He went in hard to the crux of it all, “Omission is the same as lying.”
    I fought on the side of survival, throwing down the gauntlet, “Say it. Say what you mean. I dare you to name the lie.”
    The silence got louder. Finally he asked, “Why