Free Conversations With the Fat Girl by Liza Palmer Page A

completely pissed at me, and I haven't worked out in days. I just
    feel everything slipping away, you know? Just please, don't pay
    attention to any crazy shit I say, okay? And there'll be plenty, 1
    promise you that. You've got to be the one that holds me steady just
    please keep me grounded through all of this. Please? Plus, I don't even
    know what you're worrying about anyway I've always told you you're fine
    the way you are.? Olivia is flipping her cell phone open and closed. ?I
    know. But a size two would be nice,?I say. ?Don't try to be all
    pity-pot, girl. Let me lust run get my Rolodex of stories that prove
    when it comes to bring pitied for getting called fat, you need not
    apply. Don t make me reenact the Thar She Blows night. I will. I'll bend
    my ass over right now and make you play the parts of those fucking
    dickheads in that car.?Olivia grows angrier and angriier as she
    remembers that night. ?I know. I just want to look nice at your wedding.
    I'm not trying to take away your crown, Moby.?Olivia smiles, but it
    quickly fades. It's as if she wants to joke about the good ol' days, but
    when she actually commits to it she regrets it immediately. ?So will you
    come? To Martine's?. You're the only one who is
     
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    ever honest with me about what looks right on me. Need I bring up the
    velvet pants??Olivia quickly changes the subject again. She snaps her
    phone shut. I remember those velvet pants. They were a deep navy blue
    and had a huge embroidered butterfly right across the ass. Olivia wore
    them constantly throughout the summer before our freshman year in
    college. As she packed for orientation, I finally broke it to her that
    the butterfly made her ass look twelve times bigger than it actually
    was. You couldn't even make out that the embroidery was a butterfly at
    all. It looked more like an homage to our nation's purple mountains
    majesty Olivia and I stand in silence for the next ten minutes. Her
    anger is escalating. She paces up and down the steps of the city hall. 1
    sit on the top step and drink my coffee. The morning is crisp, a
    wonderful reprieve from one of the hottest summers I can remember.
    Olivia is pacing at the bottom of the steps when a high-end sport
    utility vehicle pulls up and parks next to her rental car. The woman
    behind the wheel pulls down her mirror and reapplies her lipstick.
    Olivia taps her foot and puts her arm at her hip. I push myself into a
    standing position. ?Olivia! You look amazing!?The woman is just shy of
    her third face-lift. ?Patrona? You are fifteen minutes late and I have a
    two-page list of problems with this site. You're not charging me for a
    full hour, are you?' Olivia asks. ?Of course not. Let's get right to
    that list.? Patrona is a professional. She offers Olivia a Pellegrino
    from her purse and takes her hand as they enter the city ball gardens. I
    trail into the gardens behind them, Pellegrino-less, and behold the
    setup for an event that evening. Bustling caterers and jumpsuit-clad
    workmen wind their way around the gardens with various tables and
    bunches of flowers. The fountain is lit
     
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    Liza Palmer with white pillar candles on silver plates with gardenias
    floating in bunches on the water. The tables are done in all-white, with
    large glass bowls of cabbage roses in the center of each. Olivia gasps.
    She walks through the setup in a daze. There are twinkling white lights
    winding around every pillar, while bell jars, with a single candle in
    each, hang from every tree. Patrona and Olivia discuss lighting,
    flowers, the cake placement. the DJ stand, the dance floor, and the head
    table. Patrona uses the already setup event as a guide for Olivia, and
    it works perfectly ?Mags!?Olivia calls, I snake my way through the
    tables to find Patrona and her at an obvious focal point. ?This is where
    the head table is going to be. Can't you just imagine? You and me
    sitting here-everyone will have a clear