Being Don Being Donna - Chapter Eight

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Wednesday. Had to get out of bed very early, in a hurry, to use the john again. Food wasn’t staying in me long due to the changes in my diet that Miss Morgan was imposing on me. I didn’t mind the food. The variety was enjoyable and the food tasted much better than the prepared canned food I was used to eating. My antsy stomach didn’t agree with my taste buds. It was rejecting the changed diet.

As long as I was up, I put on a fresh pot of coffee: the only morning beverage that Miss Morgan and I agreed on without question. She also drank a large glass of citrus juice, usually grapefruit, which I gagged on. I showered, shampooed, and conditioned my long hair while the coffee brewed. After a quick cup of coffee, I brushed my teeth, went back to bed, and lay down, but was unable to fall asleep.

It wasn’t very long before I heard Miss Morgan rummaging around and going into the bathroom. In my reverie, I conjured up how she looked while standing in the shower, with the steamy water cascading over her soft, creamy skin. Guiltily, I got out of bed and started dressing to distract myself from the vision in my head of her naked body that refused to go away.

I sure didn’t want her to see the effect her loveliness had on me. I put a thick new sweat suit on to hide my rampant erection and checked myself in the mirror. The outfit almost camouflaged it completely; almost as good as it hid the fat rolls that hung over at my sides. No way to resolve how I felt, about her using the john. She came out wearing exercise sweats, similar to mine.

"Want to join me for a quick jog, Donny? I usually do a fast mile in the morning to kick up my metabolic rate. You don’t have to jog, just walk along with me. I’ll go slowly if you join me, just to keep me company. I’ll use high leg lifts to maintain my normal exertion rate rather than covering the distance with longer strides. Interested? We can talk and save some time discussing your plans for today."

"The only plan I have for today is to get back to my house to check on things and read. Maybe I can raise a few bucks off of my neighbors. Oh, I’d like to see if I might visit with my dad, yet, if it’s possible."

"Still won’t go to the community center for the aerobics class, huh?"

"No, thank you. Not to be made fun of. Being the laughing stock for a bunch of your friendly health nuts won’t exactly make my day. I’ll wait until all the healthy foods you got me on melt some of my fat away like butter the way you seem to think it will. That shouldn’t take long if I don’t starve first."

"Starving yourself to lose weight will only take longer and backfire, Donny. If you continue eating the healthier foods I suggest, which I doubt, you will think I won’t notice if you sneak in a snack or two and you’ll be right. I probably won’t notice. Then you’ll crave some of your old favorites, and cheat more frequently. Soon, you’ll gain back the weight you lost. If your neighbors ask you to do some chores, you’ll think you might burn off enough fat. You’ll get into the habit of going to the store and spending the money they give you on junk food that will stick like glue.

No, without regular exercise, you’ll only go back to the endless cycle of losing a few pounds and gaining them back. Is that what you want to do?"

"What other choice is there, besides exercise? I won’t go to be humiliated by a bunch of clods that think they’re superior, just because they don’t share my urges to overeat. I don’t cherish putting myself in a situation that will lead to that kind of abuse. Once the kids from school find out I’m attending exercise classes for fat people, the word will get around, and the taunts will start all over again."

"Hmm. The kids at school treat you pretty bad, huh?"

"Yeah, most of them did. It won’t be long before school starts."

"Eventually, you’ll have to incorporate exercise into your life, Donny, or it won’t be any easier to get slim and fit in with your peers. It will only get more and more difficult as you get older for you to shed the fat and begin to look halfway normal. If you start weight control now, to look normal, fewer kids will be willing to taunt you. They might accept you. They won’t be bent on making such fun of you.

What if we concentrate on getting your excess bulk down somewhat first? Would you be willing to try some mild exercise, then? Would you consider giving your solemn promise to attend the aerobics classes, if I relent and allow you to use other means to first knock say four inches off of your waistline? Would that be enough leeway, or would you want to wait until you drop say six inches?"

"Six inches? I haven’t worn a size 38 pair of pants in ages. I’d be willing to do just about anything for that, even promise to exercise. Please don’t kid around, ma’am. You’re tempting me with some phony trick. If you can somehow make me look thinner I promise, but it would take a miracle to"

"No, it wouldn’t. I know of a way. It’s merely cosmetic, but maybe the answer."

"Cosmetics? No way! Forget it! I’m not going to use any makeup! Besides, I don’t believe there’s any makeup in the world that would hide six inches of the ugly fat I have hanging around my waist. This is a joke or a riddle to trick me, isn’t it?"

"If it’s a joke, it isn’t funny, Donny, and it’s not a riddle. People have used orthotics to mask their obesity for ages. I’m talking about wearing a truss to change your proportions to appear, well, more normal, that’s all. Six inches is a tall order, but four inches is likely to be attainable. Do I have your attention, yet?"

"You do, but I don’t see how?"

"First, I’ll have to take you to an orthopedic expert for a fitting, to make sure. Hmm. Maybe there’s one at the hospital. Do you want me to find out, while I call to check if we can get in to see your dad today? Perhaps we can kill two birds with one trip. You can get an initial appointment to be fitted for a proper truss and visit with your dad on the same trip."

I got to see my dad. I wish I hadn’t. We couldn’t talk. He was still in detox. Under the doctors’ care, he was on medication, and asleep the whole time I was there. His liver damage was extensive, and his skin looked dark yellow like it had been painted with iodine or something. Dad’s complexion was always ruddy because he spent years outdoors, going from customer to customer, selling. Even while he was working in the shipping dept., I hadn’t noticed the change.

The doctor that accompanied Miss Morgan and I called it jaundice. He talked with us for some time, after I visited with my dad in private, and said a prayer for him. The man was patient and kind, but I got the feeling he held back things about my dad’s prognosis. He only repeated that dad’s recovery was to be prolonged.

The news was glum. Apparently, dad’s former employer knew his condition was severe at the time they let him go. The hospital had records from the company’s assigned doctor that dad was already seeing while he was still working. This new doctor said he had trouble securing the previous doctors’ files. A court order from the attorney dad hired through Miss Morgan had to secure a court in order to get any information. They claimed "privacy" due to the litigation the attorney initiated.

I didn’t understand any of that. How could they hide the file because of a lawsuit?

"Sorry I’m making you late for work again, Miss Morgan. I only expected you to drop me off to visit dad on your way to work." She was dressed for work.

"I don’t work on Wednesdays unless I’m backed up or have appointments that can’t be scheduled otherwise. The bank is closed on Wednesdays, Donny. I work on Saturday mornings, usually. Last week was slow, so I took the day off. I can spend the whole day with you today if you’d like. Let’s go to the orthodontist for that fitting appointment; then head over to your place. I’d like to put in a call to your lawyer when we get there to see what progress he’s made."

The orthopedic fitting took all of ten minutes for measurements, and all we got was a prescription and the locations of the shops that made the trusses. The hospital orthopedic department didn’t actually make ‘braces’; they only prescribed what was needed, so another stop was added to our trip to my house. That didn’t take long either. The brace was in stock and didn’t have to be custom-made. The guy at the shop checked the prescription, retook some measurements and pulled a box off the shelf, and showed me the brace. It was a very plain, flesh-toned, foot-wide plus elastic band with laces in the back. I backed away from him, in shock.

GULP! "I can’t wear that thing! It looks like something women wear!"

The man smiled. "Oh, really! I need mine for back support. You’re lucky, puppy! This one will be comfortable and easy to get used to. Mine has stiff metal stays to correct my posture, kid. Don’t worry. This isn’t about vanity. You can’t go moving all that fat around day in, day out, without something giving way. As heavy as you are, you don’t appear to have the muscle tone necessary to keep from rupturing something. Want to have to wear stays for the rest of your life?"

I pointed at Miss Morgan. "The idea of getting a brace was only to cut my waist size down. She said it was only cosmetic. I don’t need that--that thing"

"Doesn’t matter. Without wearing a brace, you’ll eventually get back into trouble from carrying that much blubber around. The licensed orthodontist prescribed this ‘thing’ to prevent you from tearing up something inside, kid. Better get wise and use it before you suffer any severe pain. Then, you may not be able to walk around without a rigid one like mine. If you should get hit hard from the rear in an auto automobile accident, you’ll learn. Many people ignore the signs until it’s too late.

I got into this business after I, unfortunately, found out the hard way what custom back braces cost. Now, I do well selling and fitting them. I was a tailor. All that bending to measure men for business suits wrecked my overloaded spine. This brace the doctor prescribed for you is dirt-cheap by comparison. Take a word of advice from a sore old man who used to be fat. Take the brace and use it until you slim down before you find out you should have, the hard way like I did."

We left the store with three of the blasted ‘things’. I secretly wished they weren’t so plain. As soon as we got to my house, she had me change clothes and she offered to lace me into one. First, she took a Polaroid picture of me and marked my waist measurement across the back: 441/2 inches, with me in a tee shirt and bathing trunks, without the brace. Then, she took another after putting on the brace and measured my waist. Sure enough, 40 inches, and she really didn’t pull the laces tight. She wanted to know if she should draw the laces in as tight as she could. I declined, knowing she crush me in order to get those last two inches.

Crafty woman. She tricked me into promising to go to the aerobics class. All she had to do was get me to the hospital’s orthopedist. After that, I really didn’t have a choice. The guy in the shop didn’t need to tell me twice. My lower back told me often enough. He knew what he was talking about, I just didn’t know better, and didn’t have the means, nor the exposure to know being very overweight could be the cause of my backaches. I thought the back pain was normal. Mom had it too.

Thinking back, I remembered that mom had trouble getting around, and always was complaining about her aching back. She wore girdles all the time. Now, I had to prepare myself for the kidding I’d get for needing a girdle. Maybe being fat isn’t worth the trouble it causes. Plus, I was duped into those dumb aerobic classes.

"No one makes fun of someone in pain, Donny. If you’re asked, simply say that the brace is due to a back injury. I don’t think a soul at the club will give you any trouble about it. I’ll tell the coach that it’s prescribed. After all, it was. We could show him the prescription too if you’d like." I obviously wasn’t worming my way out of going. She had an answer to every objection.

I nodded, staring at the difference in the two pictures, tempted to ask her to take

In the laces, some more, just temporarily to see if she could. I wouldn’t want to walk around with it that tight but was still curious. I tucked the tail of the tee shirt into my bathing suit and checked the full length on the bathroom door. Wow, that did the trick. I looked like a powerlifter, even though it was fat instead of muscle. I didn’t look half-bad.

"In a few months, you can look like that without the brace, Donny."

"How?"

"Doing about fifty sit-ups every morning with your knees up halfway, before you get out of bed, and another fifty at night before you go to sleep. Your lats will get stronger, and the spare tire will vanish, so you probably won’t need the brace."

Wow, that would be too cool! How many?"

"Fifty in the morning and fifty more at night. That’s in addition to the exercise you get in the classes you will start in about an hour.

"Oh yeah. Those. You sure no one’s going to poke fun at me?"

"No, I don’t. I can’t hand you an ironclad guarantee no idiots will be around, but I think there’s a better chance if you wear the brace. Don’t you? Don’t overdo the exercises for a few days. Just play it cool, get used to wearing it, and learn at your own pace. Speed and agility will come with time if you apply yourself."

I wanted to lick my plate that night. I would have too if it weren’t all green leafy food. I inhaled the small can of tuna in the middle of the pile of vegetables, first. Good thing too, because besides the clear broth the waiter served, and the gallons of unsweetened Iced tea I needed after the aerobics workout, the vegetables were all I was getting for dinner.

A grilled cheese or garbage burger from Al’s Diner would have been marvelous, instead of the healthy choice food in the restaurant Miss Morgan took me to right after we left the health club at the community center. Imagine! I had to change clothes four times in as many hours, and she made me take all the changes to the health club!

It was my own fault. I went through the entire aerobics class without a hitch, with Miss Morgan beside me the whole time. At least a half-dozen guys hit on her at the club. She put them down, politely, saying she already had plans for every night for weeks in advance. Sensing her plans were to be with me, gave my ego a boost until I realized she’d be monitoring my every move.

We weighed in at the very beginning, with the coach marking a chart. She must have been giving him lessons on making lists for everything. Then he checked off each set of exercises during the warm-up, giving me special attention to explaining why each group of muscles was prepared and in which order. I was confused at first, reluctant to get too enthused, until other class members fell in with the three of us and followed along with the warm-up routine, asking the coach questions.

Not one of them made fun of me. Some looked in good shape, too. I spotted kids from school in the gym, but they stayed away, and I ignored them. Then, we got to the aerobics class. Whew! We did two, fifteen-minute, non-stop sessions to music, separated by a five-minute cool-down period. I didn’t do a fourth of all the exercises. No one did them all, except the coach; not even Miss Morgan. I was wiped out; exhausted.

Then we jogged in place for five minutes. In spite of how tight the brace was, I felt it slipping down my sweat-soaked body. I had to stop and pull up on it. I saw two other guys do the same thing at some point during the jog! Getting laughed at didn’t seem likely after that.

Then, five minutes of cool-down preceded a final twenty-minute, non-stop, rapid-fire, quick-change routine. I collapsed right after the start and couldn’t keep up to save my soul. All I did was wave my arms and make foot motions to the beat of the music. I was bushed!

After a quick shower, and ten minutes of steam (Miss Morgan spent the time in the Woman’s Sauna). I rinsed off and joined Miss Morgan at the pool for a swim. Well, I went for a wade in the shallow water, too burned out to move. Swimming is one form of healthy activity that I don’t mind because fat people are not at as much disadvantage in the water. Buoyancy! I should have known better than accept her challenge to swim the distance of the pool underwater. The winner picked out dinner. That’s why I was eating tuna and veggies.

I fell asleep in front of the boob tube during the first sitcom. Bushed!

During dinner, I conceded that I should wear a brace all the time, except at night. I could wear a lighter version if I wanted to, but that was up to me. I opted for the new pajamas without any brace and slept like the dead. Besides, I didn’t have any ‘lighter control’ version. I didn’t catch the drift of what she meant by lighter control until morning. That was what I was afraid of. She was suggesting I wear a fancy corset like she wore.

We fell into a new routine and the remainder of summer slipped away. By the time school started, dad was recovering, I was down twenty pounds, the braces were too small, and I had to see the orthopedist for a new prescription after dad and I spent an entire morning together.