Geoff rode in the back, his hand on my shoulder for support.
The reminder I wasn’t alone helped quite a bit. Lying in that hospital bed, I’d felt confined. Strangers all around me, too cheerful, too talkative.
I just wanted to go home and be surrounded by my things. I wanted to see my cat. My bed. Pajamas where my ass didn’t hang out.
As we pulled into the drive, the house welcomed me. Not in words or acts, just a general sense of wellbeing. Relief.
It felt good to be home.
Geoff bounced ahead to open the door.
Excited, I called out to my pet. “Grisou. I’m home. Where are you baby?” I hoped he wasn’t disappointed I didn’t arrive with any treats. Usually when I called him, I had something from the butcher that I knew he’d like.
I saw the shadow of a massive cat come bounding before the beast itself popped into view. Bigger than a lion with my Grisou’s face.
What the hell?
And that wasn’t the weirdest part. His meow—which boomed enough to make me blink—was followed by an indignant, “Where have you been? You know I hate sleeping by myself.”
24
Geoff hauled my ass up off the floor. “Mom, are you okay?”
No, I was not okay. My cat was the size of a pony. And he spoke. Maybe I should have stayed in the hospital.
“Grisou startled me,” I admitted, looking down and getting a confusing dual view. In one, my normal-sized cat twined between my legs purring. In the imprint over it, ginormous kitty was practically knocking me over. Also purring. Not as soft and cute when multiplied in size.
I had to be hallucinating.
“I think you should go lie down,” a worried Winnie suggested.
“Good plan.” A good night’s sleep in my bed would do just the trick.
The wide stairs came in useful as my son insisted on supporting me up, not trusting me to walk. I could understand the concern. I’d been flat on my back and unmoving for a month. Geoff probably assumed adrenaline kept me upright. I should have told him I felt too good to crash. Like, seriously awesome. I didn’t even remember the last time I’d felt this great.
Geoff brought me right to the edge of my bed, followed by Winnie, who hovered.
“I’m fine.” I tried to get rid of them.
“Let me get your shoes.” She dropped to her knees, and I waved her off.
“I can take them off myself. Go. Shoo. I’ll be fine.”
They protested.
Cute kids. But would they leave already?
In the safety of my room I wanted a peek at my nude body in a better mirror and light.
Selfish?
Yup.
I’d not looked this fit in more than twenty years. I wanted to enjoy it.
I stripped my ass naked and got a full-length look in my new tall mirror. I stared for a long while at the body I’d been hoping to eventually get. I’d entertained this dream that the store would do well enough that I could hire Winnie. Maybe even have enough to book myself in for a mommy makeover.
Plastic surgery to fix the things diet couldn’t. I’d done my research. Seen the pics and read all the threads. I’d known what to expect. The discomfort. The sleeping in a recliner for weeks as the stitches healed. The drains I’d have to monitor, easing fluid from my body. Why would anyone agree to be sliced and diced?
Unless you’d had to lift your tummy to wash under or had breasts that literally hung like tube socks it was hard to understand why anyone would do it. But I’d hated my body for so long that while I winced at the mastopexy procedure—mine would require an anchor cut that would remove excess skin and reattach the nipple (Can anyone say zombie nipple?)—the end result would be a firm boob that pointed forward.
Exactly what I saw in the mirror, done with magic and saving myself weeks of grief.
Cool. Along with my improvements, I saw the marks of my journey.
My appendix scar? Still a white slash on my side. My tummy, thighs, and breasts bore stretch marks. The hair down below curled a steely and dark gray. Say hello to the me I would have been if I’d not used food as a crutch.
Grisou parked his furry butt beside me, the big version.
Oddly enough, I didn’t fear him. That was my cat. Even if he was mega sized.
“Have you always been this big?” I asked, reaching over to ruffle the fur on top of his head.
Only to see in the mirror