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Living Large
by:
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Chapter 1:- 1
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The opportunity for a new writer to get a column had opened up when our senior relationships editor had accepted a full time position at Glamour magazine. The entire office had been waiting for the past three months to see how or when Elaine would fill the position, each of us attempting to showcase our finest writing skills. FINALLY! Visions of myself happily typing away on my lap top danced in my head, and while I admit that this vision didn’t differ much from my current real life, in this day dream I was working on something significant, something that was MINE. I mentally ran over all of the different title ideas I had been working on for the past three years and I cursed myself for not bringing in my notebook, where I had been feverishly documenting them. Oh well, I’m sure we can hammer out the details in a follow up meeting. Follow up meetings… This was getting better and better. My lips curled up into a dreamy smile, and I found myself raising one eyebrow in anticipation. I sat up straight, and rested my forearms on the arms of the chair, attempting to look professional.
“I wanted to meet with you today to speak about a fantastic opportunity,” Elaine said.
I sat confidently down onto the soft, worn leather chair across from Elaine’s clean glass topped desk, squeezing my knees together and resting my hands in my lap professionally. My heart fluttered excitedly, and I knew instantly that this was it; I was finally getting my own column. I had worked for the local magazine Boston Improper for three years, and never once had Elaine called me into her office for a personal meeting. The joy of this experience was underscored only slightly by the fact that Kit Thompson, an arch enemy of mine from my childhood was in the room.
The opportunity for a new writer to get a column had opened up when our senior relationships editor had accepted a full time position at Glamour magazine. The entire office had been waiting for the past three months to see how or when Elaine would fill the position, each of us attempting to showcase our finest writing skills. FINALLY! Visions of myself happily typing away on my lap top danced in my head, and while I admit that this vision didn’t differ much from my current real life, in this day dream I was working on something significant, something that was MINE. I mentally ran over all of the different title ideas I had been working on for the past three years and I cursed myself for not bringing in my notebook, where I had been feverishly documenting them. Oh well, I’m sure we can hammer out the details in a follow up meeting. Follow up meetings… This was getting better and better. My lips curled up into a dreamy smile, and I found myself raising one eyebrow in anticipation. I sat up straight, and rested my forearms on the arms of the chair, attempting to look professional.
“I’d love to hear about it. I’ve been working very hard, these past three years to come up with lots of different ideas, and I am so happy to finally share them with you. I know I am so ready for this.”
Elaine sat forward in her chair; black leather flanked my stainless steel. Everything about her was so clean and crisp. I could not wait to be mentored by her, and to show her what I could do.
“Now Sophia, this is a big deal for our magazine, because this project will involve every media, from TV to print, which of course is our specialty. Boston Improper could get a lot of attention for this, as could you.”
TV!? This was even bigger than I had imagined! Words came spilling over my lips as fast as I could think them. “Oh I understand what a big deal this is. And I am ready. I’ve been ready. Thank you so much! Do you have a specific direction you want the column to go in, because I have-“
Elaine continued in a cautious tone, “Sophia, it is a column, but there is also another part to this.” She paused briefly. “You would be participating in a contest and then documenting it. Now I want to make sure that we present this to you delicately-”
I heard the words column, and TV, and of course column again. I felt my mouth moving uncontrollably with excitement. I didn’t care what the contest was about, I would do a dog grooming contest at this point, if it meant I could write a column about it and own it.
“Oh great, a contest is fine with me. I love contests. Whatever it is, I will do it.”
“It’s a weight loss competition,” Kit interjected.
The music in my head stopped abruptly and I was left only with the sound of blood gushing in my ears. I had forgotten Kit was standing next to Elaine. Kit and her bouncy hair had been haunting my life for years off and on. Her family was friends with my family, and my mother had attempted to help my sister and I develop a friendship with her while in grade school. Luckily, her father’s television production company had required them to move to California, and other than one year of overlap at a boarding school in Western Massachusetts, we had been able to avoid each other, until this.
When Kit had decided that she wanted to be in the magazine business, Kit’s mother had contacted my mother, who quickly contacted me about contacting my editor. Citing my help with Kit’s career as the ‘one positive thing that could come out of your silly work,’ my mother somehow convinced me to lead Kit right into my most desired position. She was now interning as an editorial assistant for the next three months, haunting me daily with small mentions of my less than glamorous self growing up.
“Kit, what did you say?” I croaked like a toad.
“Its Catherine now, nobody’s called me Kit for years; you know that Sophie. Anyway, my dad’s production company is coming to Boston to film a New England weight loss contest. He asked me if I had any friends that would like to participate, so of course I thought of you.”
“Of course.” More croaking. I wished I could infect her perfect face with warts.
Kit laughed nervously, twirling a few strands of her chestnut colored hair around a perfectly manicured index finger. “Yes, well, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” Didn’t I? “So anyway, my dad is doing this show, and I told Elaine it would be a great way for Boston Improper to get more exposure, not that it doesn’t already have a great fan base.” She turned her head to smile at Elaine, reminding me of a Yorkshire terrier puppy seeking affection. Elaine’s lips were tight and pursed. She scratched at the side of her temple and stared straight ahead. Kit turned back to me and continued, “And you could be happy with yourself.”
“I AM happy with myself.” My fingertips turned icy and white as my hands clenched each other. I instinctively pressed my fists into my legs, causing pain.
“Oh.” She paused, looking confused. “Well, you could even win money.”
“Catherine, I think that’s enough explaining, I’ll take it from here. Why don’t you step outside?”
I was grateful to hear Elaine’s rich voice coating over the sound of Kit’s snap, crackle, and pop, but then equally as mortified as I realized she had been witness to this debacle; she had actually arranged this debacle. I sunk back into the chair, trying to disappear into it, but remembering that I was apparently too big to disappear. I stared through both of them as a unit, my eyes stinging with tears that were fighting to get out.
Kit stepped away from Elaine’s side, as I would imagine a parrot would leave its pirate, had it been unwillingly shooed away. For a brief second she seemed unsure of where to go, until she regained her confidence and sashayed towards the door, turning back to me once to give me a quick smile before she disappeared to the other side of it.
“I’m sorry about that Sophia. I think there may have been a misunderstanding. Nobody thinks you should change. I was looking at it more from a business standpoint. It would be great for the magazine, and it would give you a chance to showcase your witty writing style. We won’t do it, and I shouldn’t have asked you.”
My body was on fire and I felt the back of my shirt dampen as I started to sweat. I needed to get out of there before a complete meltdown occurred.
“I have to go.” I felt the sob I had been choking back start to creep out of my throat and I stood up and ran towards the door. I had managed to go at least ten years without a witnessed cry, and I wasn’t about to waste one on Kit. On my way out, I hit my thigh on Elaine’s desk, and heard as all of the contents on the desk shook from the force of my body. When I reached the door I turned back to her and yelled, “I am happy with myself.”
