Andrew’s eyes followed a single drop of water rolling toward her cleavage.
She said, “You know how I got like this?”
“What do you mean?”
She caressed his forearm with electric blue fingernails. He trembled. “Don’t be so polite. You know what I mean. How I lost weight. How I got hot. You remember those nicknames they called me, right? Lard Ass and Rosie O and The Beached Whale –”
“They shouldn’t have –”
“Done that. I know, but I don’t care. It’s all in the past cause of Mom.
Fucked up, feminine and awesome:
Skinny Latte, a short story by Chris Rhatigan, over at
Shotgun Honey.
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