Darrell stood at the magazine rack agonizing over his choice. ‘Squeaky’s Oil and Lube’ carried a limited selection and normally something as mundane would not have warranted a second thought, but today he sensed the eyes of scrutiny upon him. The unrelenting gaze belonging to a woman seated strangely close to the rack. Maybe she was an editor or marketing representative and as part of some cosmic assignment forced to observe/scrutinize the reading selections of others. In an attempt to avoid skewing the survey too far in either direction, Darrell grabbed a wrinkled copy of Sports Illustrated; an insipid choice indeed.
The chair in which she sat unquestionably suffered its largest challenge of the day, but it was not alone. Gray knit slacks, stretched beyond reason, could not prevent the excess of her thighs from gently rolling over the edges. A cheap romance novel served as disguise, but her occasional glance fooled no one. The book rested on a shelf of sorts, somewhere near a blurred line of where bosoms ended and her stomach began. An extra chin justified its existence by saving her neck the trouble of having to support her head. Soft facial features played quietly to a deepening scowl. The downward draw at the corners of her mouth spoke not only of her immediate physical discomfort but perhaps a frustration with the world in general; a cage designed specifically to exclude the petite and much too willing to browbeat those less eager or unable to conform.
The lack of patronage on a Wednesday afternoon meant plenty of available seating and the primary reason he chose midweek to tend to business. He slipped into the seat next to her as inconspicuously as possible. While Darrell would never have the distinction of being an intellectual giant he plainly knew what he liked in a woman. If the opportunity presented itself, and he knew it would, he fancied the chance to get to know such a mysterious and voluptuous vixen.
She offered only a brief glance in his direction before swiveling her entire body. So much that her knees made it difficult for the mechanics to enter and exit the garage. Darrell truly didn’t know whether to be offended by the chilly reception or to accept it as a challenge. He wrestled with the possibility that perhaps a woman such as this had absolutely no interest in his six foot three one-hundred fifty pound frame. With disappointment still circulating in his mind he allowed his eyes to wander to the magazine in his lap. Reality hit him square between the eyes (he had the 2009 Swimsuit Edition sitting in his lap). At that very moment in time, a sweaty Duane Wade sitting near his privates seemed far more preferable to the glistening, tan breasts of super-model Bar Refaeli. It would appear Darrell had inadvertently sabotaged his own plan.
“Excuse me ma’am. My name’s Darrell Darnell Ward and I’m currently working on a sociology paper about the consequences of marketing bias and the devastating affects on the young women of today. If you would be so kind, could you answer a few questions?”
Truth be known, the only time Darrell had set foot inside a university hall was to attend his older sister’s graduation. He struggled through welding school with mediocre grades and considered landing a part-time at the John Deere dealer a significant milestone, but in the back of his mind he knew if he pulled this off he would be doing himself a serious disservice if he didn’t at least consider acting school. Although Darrell had no intention of seeking a degree in sociology he did find himself enamored with the study of particularly large women and their thought processes.
Before she could respond the young man at the counter announced, “Lily Anderson, you’re Taurus is ready.”
Darrell resisted the urge to follow her to the counter and instead politely waited until she turned to go.
“Come on Lily, what do you say? This final means do or die for me! Tell you what, there’s a bar just around the corner. I’ll buy you a drink and we can knock these questions out in no time. When I become famous someday, and I believe it’s only a matter of time, I’ll remember you fondly.”
She hesitated momentarily, but there was something about his boyish charm and tenacity that intrigued her. Besides it would give her a chance to lash out at what she believed one of society’s great injustices.
“OK, but just one drink.”
Darrell so loved to hear those words. Lily sat down again and together they waited for his vehicle to be finished. His palms grew sweaty and his heart raced with anticipation as he watched her reflection in the opposing window.
While the world remained satisfied promoting and catering to the petite his niche market continued to be the large and loveable. Living large was not without problems, but it seemed too late to change the pattern. It was simple physics, big women required more liquor, larger bones of course required a larger saw, and Darrell knew all too well the extra freezer space required—before the bodies could be properly disposed of.