Does This Dress Make Me Look Fat?

1

“Does This Dress Make Me Look Fat?”

Copyright ©by Mark Ray 2003

5000 words

When Maudine got home from the bridal shop that evening three falls ago, I could tell she was upset. I was afraid she’d got fired or somebody’d died or something, but then she up and said, “Horace, does this dress make me look fat?”

It was one of them questions there don’t seem to be no right answer for. Cletus would’ve known what to say—he was always more of a ladies’ man than me—but I couldn’t exactly tell Maudine to hold on while I called my brother and asked him if my wife’s dress made her look fat. I took a swig of Bud to stall for time and started pawing through all the possible answers in my brain. I felt like a dog that’s buried a hambone in the backyard, but he can’t remember if it’s up under that ’67 GTO hardtop or next to the fishing-worm Frigidaire.

I was about to decide on the GTO, when Maudine asked me again. “I said, does this dress make me look fat?”

I took another swig of Bud (for courage this time) and, trying my best to sound like Cletus, said, “Hell, sugar, it ain’t the dress.”

After she run in the bedroom and slammed the door, I figgered that wadn’t the right answer.

*****

Next morning before she left for work, Maudine asked me to goby the Piggly Wiggly and pick up a few things. I didn’t really have time; just ’cause a man’s out on disability don’t mean he ain’t got things to do. But I figgered I better go anyway, seeing as how I was already in the doghouse.

Of course, looking at her grocery list, I might as well have stayed in the doghouse—and eat the dog’s food, too. There wadn’t nothing on that list but skim milk and vegetables and wheat bread and cottage cheese. I had a feeling there was gonna be pretty slim pickings on oursupper table from here on out.

On the way to the store, I stopped off at Cletus’s for a cold one. I wanted to askhow he would’ve answered Maudine’s question, just in case she asked me again. I’d got pretty cold sleeping on the couch the night before, if you know what I mean.

Well, Cletus he come up withhalf a dozen good answers right off the bat. The one I liked best was, “Why don’t you take off that ol’ dress so I can get a better look?”I started to write that one down on my hand, but he stopped me.

“Ain’t no use, little brother,” he said, shaking his head. “They don’t never ask the same question twice.Too hard to trip you up that way.” You can just see how Cletus knew his way around women.

“So what should I do?”

“You got to get the jump on her.”

“Like how?”

“Like when you go get that rabbit food and crap. Pick her up a little somethin’ extra.”

“Like a Whitman’s sampler? She always—”

“No, doofus.” Then he told me how the Piggly Wiggly had this whole section full of diet food: fake peanut butter and sugar-free candy and this stuff called Slim Slime you was supposed to drink instead of your lunch.Cletus said I’d really surprise Maudine if I brought some of that stuff home.

I was about to tell himhow smart I thought he was when he just went on and proved it. “One more thing,” he said, “pick you up some frozen pizzas. You’re gonna get awful hungry this next week.”

*****

I was feeling pretty good when I got to the Piggly Wiggly, but then I couldn’t find none of that stuff Cletus was talking about. It wadn’t my fault; they just had that store laid out crazy. I mean, you walked in the door and the first thing you had to do was go through the produce section—and there ain’t never anything I needthere. Then you had to walk all the way to the far end to find stuff like chips and peanuts and then come back to the middle for your frozen pizza.

So, anyway, I wandered around for maybe fifteen minutes looking for the fatso row before I run into Lorman Dorman, the store manager. I didn’t figger he’d know, since he weighed about as much as me and Maudine put together, but believe it or don’t, he did. He walked me right over there. Just shows to go you, I guess.

After I’d filled up my cart, I kept thinking I was forgetting something. But I couldn’t figger out what it was, so I went on up to the checkout.

Jessie Mae McClure checked me out—and I checked her out too, if you know what I mean. We’d had some good times back in high school, and we always liked to kid back and forth.

“You goin’ on a diet, Horace?”

“Yep. Nothin’ but beer and pizza, just like them sumo wrestlers.”

She rung up Maudine’sSlim Slime. “I doubt them wrestlers drink that.”

“Naw. That’sMaudine’s.Same as that fake peanut butter.” I told herhow Maudine was gettingtouchy about being fat and all, and she told me how she takes these pills called LardAway 2000. Just one a day burns the pounds away, she said.

Well, I looked Jessie Mae up one side and down the other, then once again for good measure, and decided I had to get me some of them pills. So I went over to the drug section and picked up two boxes.

When I got back to the checkout, Miz Daughtery from the church was waiting for me to get done, and we got to talking, and she told me about these Overeaters Anonymous meetings she goes to. It didn’t take but one look at her to see she must’ve been president of the club. I told her I’d let Maudine know.

I don’t mind telling you I left that store feeling a lot better than when I went in. That’s one nice thing about living in a town like Salvia: people don’t mind helping you out. I just wished they’d helped me remember what I forgot to get.

*****

I was feeling pretty energetic after my nap, so I went on and set the table for supper. I made Maudine a sammich with that fake peanut butter and put it on her plate with two of them LardAway pills. Next to that I set a nice frosty glass oflemon-lime Slim Slime. Then I put a pizza in the oven and gotme a beer.

I was just sitting down to watch SportsCenterwhen it hit me: I’d forgot the wheat bread. Oh well, I’d just say they was out. Besides, if white bread was good enough for my mama and daddy, it was good enough for my wife.

Well, it was long after dark when Maudine come in. She was about as mopey as ever, so I drug in her the kitchen and said, “Surprise! I fixed you some sup—”

“What in the world is that?” she said, pointing at her sammich.

“It’s a peanut-butter sammich. With fake peanut butter.”

“On white bread?” She said “white bread” like you might say “used jock strap.”

“Yeah. They was out of—”

“And what’s that other stuff?”

So I told her about that Slim Slime and them LardAway pills. I was about to tell her how they might make her look good as Jessie Mae McClure when she flung open the fridge and started pawing through my twelve-packs.

“Where’s my cottage cheese? And my skim milk? Didn’t you get that lettuce I asked for?”

I seen trouble coming, so I grabbed her arm real tender-like and said, “Now, sugar, be careful with that beer.” She shot me a look, but I kept right on talking. “I was gonna get all that stuff you wanted, but Cletus told me….”

Maudine pulled away and run down the hall. As I heard the bedroom door slam, I realized I shouldn’t’ve mentioned Cletus. She never did care much for him.

*****

We watched the State game on ESPN that Saturday. At least I watched it; Maudine was too busy sewing them frilly little handkerchiefs she makes to earn a little extra at the bridal shop. I wished she didn’t have to do it, but that was the price you had to pay to get all four EPSNs.

One of the commentators on TV—that old one with the bad toupee, you know the one I mean—kept on talking about this new 287-pound linebacker State had that they called the Tower of Power. I started to say something to Maudine about how she didn’t have nothing on him, but then I thought better of it. She hadn’t mentioned her weight problem in a few days, and I didn’t think I ought to bring it up. After all, she’d just started fixing dinner again the night before, and I sure didn’t want to go back to cold stares and frozen pizza.

Anyway, I didn’t think she was watching the game, but during the halftime show, she up and said, “What would you think ifwe ordered one of those HardBody Home Gyms?” There’d been a commercial on for them earlier showing these people that looked about as much like me and Maudine as the man in the moon.

I thought about it for a minute and said, “I guess that’d be okay. Can we get the one comes with that cute little blonde with the butterfly tattoo on her shoulder?”

She threw her pincushion at me, pin side first. It hit me right on the ear. Hurt, too.

*****

I didn’t want to say nothing, but I’d figgered out what Maudine’s problem was. Ever since she’d been working at that bridal shop, she’d been worrying more and more about her weight. It stood to reason too—and not just ’cause she had more and more weight to worry about. You spent all day with them nineteen-, twenty-year old girls with waists no bigger than your thigh, you were bound to get a little sensitive about being chubby.

Of course, it didn’t help when you waddled—er, walked—back to your car by way of Cleona’s Hallmark and bought a Whitman’s sampler every other day. And then brought it home empty save for one piece with coconut in it that you knew your husband didn’t like anyway so you went on and ate it, too.

But like I said, I didn’t want to say nothing. So I didn’t.

*****

“How could you? How could you?!?” I’d been having this dream about me and Jessie Mae McClure and that blonde with the butterfly tattoo when I heard somebody shouting. At first, I thought it was on the TV, but then I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Wake up, Horace!” It was Maudine.

“Church through already?” I groaned as I tried to sit up. I must’ve been getting used to that couch ’cause I’d been sleeping pretty good.

“Yeah, and that’s not all that’s through.”

I looked over at the TV. “What? I didn’t miss the Cowboys game, did I?” It was a big game, and I didn’t want sleep through it—much as I like to sleep in ona Sunday.

“No, Horace, you didn’t miss your precious Cowboys game.” She plopped down in my easy chair so hard I was afraid she was gonna break it. “Men!”

Well, I knew I was in trouble then. When a woman starts talking about “men,” she’s really talking about one in particular—you—and she’s not saying nice things either.

“What’s the matter, sugar plum?”

“I saw Eleanor Daughtery at church. How could you? That’s what I want to know: How couldyou?”

“Huh?” It was past time for the pre-game show to start, so I switched over to CBS. Maudine always said you couldn’t talk and watch TV at the same time, but I didn’t believe it.

A commercial was on, and Maudine talked right through it and the next one and the one after that about Miz Daughtery and Overeaters Anonymous. Right about the time the pre-game show come back on, I realized why Maudine was mad. I’d been supposed to tell her about seeing Miz Daughtery at the store. Well, durn it, a man can only remember so much. I mean, did she want me to remember the wheat bread or did she want me to remember about Miz Daughtery? She couldn’t have it both ways.

When the next commercial come on, I turned around to explain, but Maudinewadn’t there no more.

*****

She called them HardBody people on Monday, and about three days later here come this slick catalog in the mail. The cover showed a picture of the HardBody LB2700, which I took to be the same one as on the TV. A big muscle-bound guy was sitting on it in nothing but his underwear. He looked like something out of a freak show with his veins bulging out and sweat running down his face. I wondered why they didn’t show that blonde with the butterfly tattoo instead; she sure would’ve sold me better.

Inside the catalog was four whole pages telling you all about the LB2700. With this model, they said, you could crunch your abs, work your lats, raise your calfs, tone your arms,develop your legs, sculpt your muscles, and pull your pulleys. (I didn’t know what half that stuff was, and I really didn’t care to learn about the rest.)The thing featured industrial-strength nine-gauge steel, all manner of safety features—which just showed how dangerous itwas—and enough weights to hold down a double-wide in a tornado.

I was just trying to get over my shock at the price—$1,399.97 plus $99.95 for shipping and handling—when Maudine come in from work.I left her looking at the catalog while I went to get another beer. When I got back, she said, “That’s just what I want, Horace.”

“That monsterosity on the cover?”

“He is pretty cute, but, no, I was talking about the LB2700.”

I was afraid of that. “Now, sugar, what in the heck are you gonna do with that thing?”

“Develop my legs for starters.”

It seemed to me that Maudine’s legs were developed enough as it was, but I knew better than to say so. “Well, that only works out to ’bout $800 per leg.” Not many people can do math like that in their heads, you know.

“Horace. I also want to work my abs and tone my arms and—”

“Whoa, honey! You’re making me tired just thinking ’bout that stuff. Couldn’t you just go use the weight room at the high school? I’m sure Coach wouldn’t care.”

“Horace.”

“I mean, if you’d hurry, you could go by there on the way home and still have time to fix dinner.”

“Horace.”

“Of course, there’s lots of other ways to get exercise. Like paintin’ the house, for instance. Just this afternoon I seen how—”

“Horace.”

“Or how ’bout walkin’ to work. It ain’t be a mile or—.”

“Horace!”

*****

Harry—he’s the UPS man—brought the LB2700 on a Tuesday. I prob’ly shoulda gone and helped him, but that Bud loses its head pretty fast once you pop the top.So I kind of hunkered down on the couch and watched him through the Venetian blinds. It turned out Harry didn’t need no help anyway. In fact, I wondered if he had one of them machines hisself, the way he manhandled them big boxes.

After he left and I finished my beer, I went outside. I checked in the twobiggest boxes, but there wadn’t no blonde with a butterfly tattoo. I did find a video, though, so I took it on inside and left the other stuff there by the front door.A fellow could get hisself a hernia lifting them heavy boxes like that. Besides, if Maudine wanted to get into shape, she could start by hauling her LB2700 in the house herself.

I popped that video in, but there wadn’t no blonde with a butterfly tattoo there either. Just that monsterosity from the catalog.

*****

The following Friday, Maudine got home from work later than ever. I was surprised they was so busy at the bridal shop during November. I thought most people got married in the spring, but I guess the judge can give out life sentences all year round.

Anyway, Maudine come in and walked all around the house, looking under stuff and behind furniture and in closets. Finally, she come in the living room and asked had I seen the UPS manlately.

“Not since he brought that LB2700 th’other day.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Let’s see, it must’ve been Tuesday ’cause I played snooker at Quince’s that night.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“’Cause I go to Quince’s ever’ Tuesday night, sugar.”

“Don’t ‘sugar’ me, Horace! Why in the world didn’t you tell me the LB2700 was here?”

“I figgered you’d see it. Hell, anybody drivin’ down the street could. It’s as big as … as a elephant.”

“Horace, I’m seeing someone.”

Now that threw me for a loss. One minute she couldn’t see a pile of boxes big as a Volkswagen, and now she was seeing someone who wasn’t there.

“You’re what?”

“I’m seeing someone.” It took me a minute, but I saw where she was headed.

“You’re not seein’ the UPS man, are you?”

“No, Horace, I’m seeing a marriage counselor. That’s why I’ve been so late getting home these last few weeks.”