Puppy Love and Puppy Fat
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Josh
Drake’s out on a date and I’m alone in our bedroom. You don’t need me to tell you that. Still, who needs girls or your stepbrother’s company when you have a pile of homework and a family-size bag of chips to work your way through? I cram a handful of chips into my mouth and open my chemistry textbook. Chemistry isn’t my strongest subject, but I’ve been getting straight As anyway. God forbid I should lose my 4.0 GPA. I guess the reason I’ve always pushed myself so hard with my schoolwork is I’ve felt I don’t have much else going for me. I may be a fat, awkward loser with lumbar problems and strange allergies, but at least I’m smart. I keep hoping that all this hard work and coming top of the class (okay, second. Damn that Mindy Crenshaw!) will mean that someday someone will realise there’s more to me than my rolls of fat and love me for my mind. Dream on, Josh.
Drake’s date is called Carrie. Or is it Caroline? Maybe Carolyn? I can’t keep up. He has a million girls flocking after him and he’s out with a different one almost every night. They all seem to blur into one; with their matching white smiles, vacant minds, skinny arms and tiny little waists. All of them thin, thin, thin. Drake likes thin. Who could blame him? I could stare at his slinky little hipbones, the very tops just poking over his low-cut, skinny jeans, for hours; all the time wishing I could investigate further and find what lurks lower down. I’ve never seen my hipbones and I certainly can’t imagine anyone wanting to stare at any part of my body for hours. Personally I try to avoid looking down when I’m in the shower. When I take a bath I fill it with mounds of bubbles so that my body is obscured from view. When I get out I jump into my bathrobe as quickly as possible. How could someone like Drake ever see anything in me?
Sometimes, when I’m mixing up a batch of Fudgy Boos, I take a moment to stare at the stick of butter. One stick weighs 4oz, four sticks weigh 1lb and four hundred weigh 100lbs. One hundred pounds is what Dr Fishbaum says I need to lose. Four hundred sticks of butter would fill a whole shopping cart. It’s a lot. As I melt the butter with the chocolate I imagine a sculpture shaped like me made out of butter. A butterball. I imagine the butter melting away as easily as it does in the saucepan, until it all lies in yellow, liquid pools on the ground, and someone skinny and gorgeous has emerged from inside. If only things were that simple.
Drake
Man, I can’t wait for this date to end. I wish Josh was working here tonight. Then I could escape from Carrie (Or is it Caroline? Maybe Carolyn? I don’t know; they all blend into one) for a bit and chat to Josh while he’s behind the popcorn counter. I often do that on dates. I guess I’m easily distracted by pretty girls, but after a few days, hours, minutes sometimes, I get bored and realise I’d rather hang out with Josh. Until the next girl comes along, that is. Cassie won’t stop talking about Canadian Idol. Apparently some guy on it is “like, so cute”. I can’t stand the show - bubblegum pop crap. And what does she mean by “so cute”? Cuter than me? How rude. I nod along and pretend to listen. All the time counting down the minutes until I can get home to Josh.
Josh
It’s Thursday night and for once Drake isn’t out on a date. He has an algebra exam tomorrow and he needs my help to pass. It looks like all this slaving over my schoolwork is finally starting to pay off. I know there’s no way Drake would be interested in spending the night with me if he didn’t think I was smart enough to help him learn.
***
The next day at school I volunteer to help clean up after chemistry, so I leave late and don’t see Drake again until I get home. When I get to our bedroom he’s standing holding a test paper displaying a large D+. There’s a proud, happy look on his face. He splays out his arms and cries “Hug me brother”, like he has a thousand time before. Excitedly I rush to embrace him, sweeping him off his feet as I do so. I put him down again, meaning to let him go. But I can’t help myself, I close my eyes and lean in to kiss him instead.
Drake
A D+, I can’t believe it, I passed. And it’s all thanks to Josh. If only I’d been able to find him after algebra to hug him. Yes, in public, that’s how happy I am. But he must have been helping a teacher out after school, so I’m pacing around our bedroom alone. Waiting. Finally I hear him climbing up the stairs. The moment he opens the door I show my test paper to him and open my arms to hug him. He lifts me off the floor as usual; he’s a big, strong guy. I nestle into his warm, cushiony body and breathe in his scent. The embrace seems to turn from boisterous to sensual and he keeps me suspended for ages before setting me down. He stares into my eyes, and instead of letting me go, he leans in to kiss me.
Startled, I pull away. As I try to gather my thoughts I see Josh’s face fall. “I’m sorry, Drake”, he stammers. “I shouldn’t have…” “Of course you couldn’t be interested in someone like me”. “I’m a mess. I’m disgusting”. He turns away and heads for the door. “Josh, wait”, I cry after him. He turns around. “You’re not disgusting”, I tell him. “And, and…I think I might be interested in you. This is all happening so fast. I don’t know what to think”. “No, Drake. You couldn’t like me. Maybe you like guys, maybe you don’t. But if you do you’ll go off chasing after some skinny little rocker, not a fat dork, like me”. Josh looks down and stares at the floor.
I place my hand on his shoulder. “Josh, I don’t care that people don’t think you’re cool and I don’t care what size you are. I like you for you”. “Look, to be honest, I like having something to cuddle”. Josh stares into my eyes, wanting to believe, but doubtful. “Now, shall we try this again?” And this time I lean in.
Josh
This is incredible. Can it really be happening? I feel Drake’s lip brush against mine. Softly at first, then firmer. There are butterflies in my stomach, but it feels good. It is true, I can feel it. I can feel he loves me. Wow, I’m going weak at the knees. He stops kissing me, but keeps on holding me. “Now do you believe me?" he asks.
Josh
Drake’s out on a date and I’m alone in our bedroom. You don’t need me to tell you that. Still, who needs girls or your stepbrother’s company when you have a pile of homework and a family-size bag of chips to work your way through? I cram a handful of chips into my mouth and open my chemistry textbook. Chemistry isn’t my strongest subject, but I’ve been getting straight As anyway. God forbid I should lose my 4.0 GPA. I guess the reason I’ve always pushed myself so hard with my schoolwork is I’ve felt I don’t have much else going for me. I may be a fat, awkward loser with lumbar problems and strange allergies, but at least I’m smart. I keep hoping that all this hard work and coming top of the class (okay, second. Damn that Mindy Crenshaw!) will mean that someday someone will realise there’s more to me than my rolls of fat and love me for my mind. Dream on, Josh.
Drake’s date is called Carrie. Or is it Caroline? Maybe Carolyn? I can’t keep up. He has a million girls flocking after him and he’s out with a different one almost every night. They all seem to blur into one; with their matching white smiles, vacant minds, skinny arms and tiny little waists. All of them thin, thin, thin. Drake likes thin. Who could blame him? I could stare at his slinky little hipbones, the very tops just poking over his low-cut, skinny jeans, for hours; all the time wishing I could investigate further and find what lurks lower down. I’ve never seen my hipbones and I certainly can’t imagine anyone wanting to stare at any part of my body for hours. Personally I try to avoid looking down when I’m in the shower. When I take a bath I fill it with mounds of bubbles so that my body is obscured from view. When I get out I jump into my bathrobe as quickly as possible. How could someone like Drake ever see anything in me?
Sometimes, when I’m mixing up a batch of Fudgy Boos, I take a moment to stare at the stick of butter. One stick weighs 4oz, four sticks weigh 1lb and four hundred weigh 100lbs. One hundred pounds is what Dr Fishbaum says I need to lose. Four hundred sticks of butter would fill a whole shopping cart. It’s a lot. As I melt the butter with the chocolate I imagine a sculpture shaped like me made out of butter. A butterball. I imagine the butter melting away as easily as it does in the saucepan, until it all lies in yellow, liquid pools on the ground, and someone skinny and gorgeous has emerged from inside. If only things were that simple.
Drake
Man, I can’t wait for this date to end. I wish Josh was working here tonight. Then I could escape from Carrie (Or is it Caroline? Maybe Carolyn? I don’t know; they all blend into one) for a bit and chat to Josh while he’s behind the popcorn counter. I often do that on dates. I guess I’m easily distracted by pretty girls, but after a few days, hours, minutes sometimes, I get bored and realise I’d rather hang out with Josh. Until the next girl comes along, that is. Cassie won’t stop talking about Canadian Idol. Apparently some guy on it is “like, so cute”. I can’t stand the show - bubblegum pop crap. And what does she mean by “so cute”? Cuter than me? How rude. I nod along and pretend to listen. All the time counting down the minutes until I can get home to Josh.
Josh
It’s Thursday night and for once Drake isn’t out on a date. He has an algebra exam tomorrow and he needs my help to pass. It looks like all this slaving over my schoolwork is finally starting to pay off. I know there’s no way Drake would be interested in spending the night with me if he didn’t think I was smart enough to help him learn.
***
The next day at school I volunteer to help clean up after chemistry, so I leave late and don’t see Drake again until I get home. When I get to our bedroom he’s standing holding a test paper displaying a large D+. There’s a proud, happy look on his face. He splays out his arms and cries “Hug me brother”, like he has a thousand time before. Excitedly I rush to embrace him, sweeping him off his feet as I do so. I put him down again, meaning to let him go. But I can’t help myself, I close my eyes and lean in to kiss him instead.
Drake
A D+, I can’t believe it, I passed. And it’s all thanks to Josh. If only I’d been able to find him after algebra to hug him. Yes, in public, that’s how happy I am. But he must have been helping a teacher out after school, so I’m pacing around our bedroom alone. Waiting. Finally I hear him climbing up the stairs. The moment he opens the door I show my test paper to him and open my arms to hug him. He lifts me off the floor as usual; he’s a big, strong guy. I nestle into his warm, cushiony body and breathe in his scent. The embrace seems to turn from boisterous to sensual and he keeps me suspended for ages before setting me down. He stares into my eyes, and instead of letting me go, he leans in to kiss me.
Startled, I pull away. As I try to gather my thoughts I see Josh’s face fall. “I’m sorry, Drake”, he stammers. “I shouldn’t have…” “Of course you couldn’t be interested in someone like me”. “I’m a mess. I’m disgusting”. He turns away and heads for the door. “Josh, wait”, I cry after him. He turns around. “You’re not disgusting”, I tell him. “And, and…I think I might be interested in you. This is all happening so fast. I don’t know what to think”. “No, Drake. You couldn’t like me. Maybe you like guys, maybe you don’t. But if you do you’ll go off chasing after some skinny little rocker, not a fat dork, like me”. Josh looks down and stares at the floor.
I place my hand on his shoulder. “Josh, I don’t care that people don’t think you’re cool and I don’t care what size you are. I like you for you”. “Look, to be honest, I like having something to cuddle”. Josh stares into my eyes, wanting to believe, but doubtful. “Now, shall we try this again?” And this time I lean in.
Josh
This is incredible. Can it really be happening? I feel Drake’s lip brush against mine. Softly at first, then firmer. There are butterflies in my stomach, but it feels good. It is true, I can feel it. I can feel he loves me. Wow, I’m going weak at the knees. He stops kissing me, but keeps on holding me. “Now do you believe me?" he asks.