Christy Weston-Damnit

Young, beautiful and full of vim and vigor, Christy Weston-Damnit tumbled through the throng outside the entrance/exit of Penn Station, an edible bouquet slung over her left shoulder. Today would be a day of love and gift giving, far from the days of longing and regret which pocked Christy’s past like gum stains on the sidewalk. She had even dressed up for the occasion, trading her New Balance trainers for a pair of pumps, designed by an expensive designer but built by an inexpensive factory worker or machine or whatever. Every step shoved her size 9 feet deeper and deeper into her size 7½ shoes, causing her to wince and grunt with every stride. The spikey bouquet dug into Christy’s ample back fat, a feeling that, she believed, was similar to that felt by Christ when he carried his cross to the crucifixion. The pain was worth it, even welcomed. Christy would surely be rewarded 7-fold by the admiration of her beau and his coworkers. The bouquet was for the ever affable, ever affection Carl Creighton, of Sterling Info Systems fame. For the weeks leading up to their 3rd anniversary, Christy had been searching for just the right edible gift to give the man of her constant thoughts and sentiments. Perhaps an edible crocheting kit, complete with edible yarn and needles. Or maybe an edible child which spoke three languages, could use the toilet and tasted like caramel. She even thought of giving Carl edible food, but this idea seemed too audacious for consideration. And then her coworker Kiki, of Generic Hostels fame, received an edible bouquet from her boyfriend Charles, of Citigroup fame. At first Christy, also of Generic Hostels fame, was enraged at the site of this gift. Why hadn’t she received an edible bouquet from Charles? The fact that Charles wasn’t dating Christy was beside the point. But Christy did have her own boyfriend. What about him? Why hadn’t Carl given her an edible bouquet? Gifts were things given to those you love. And they were in love, right? Her rage was apparent in the refusal to partake in the fruity, chocolatey goodness of Kiki and Charles’ shared love. She had only said, “No thank you” when offered a pineapple daisy half dipped in milk chocolate, but the tone in which she said it betrayed an entire lifetime of emotional neglect she had heretofore kept hidden. Sometimes this anger erupted during a packet stapling or the unjamming of the spacebar or backspace key. But for the most part, Christy’s bitter, resentful attitude towards the world and everyone in it was kept to a minimum amount of exposure. And sometimes Christy’s hatred could be turned into a productive force, such as buying a gift for someone else only because she resented that person not buying it for her. Not only would Carl appreciate the thoughtfulness of such a gift and feel horrible for the lack of thoughtfulness on his part, his coworkers would certainly share these sentiments. Like Kiki and her Mango Kiwi Blossom, Carl and his Berry Chocolate Bouquet would be the buzz of the office from lunch until at least the close of business, maybe even the following morning. The gift not only fit the edible requirement Christy had set for her fat lover’s anniversary present, the flower aspect would also solidify her position as the male in their heterosexual relationship. In her days of loneliness and despair, Christy was often charmed by the emasculation of men. Neutering those with which she was romantically involved to be even more fulfilling. She would even carry and deliver the bouquet herself to Carl’s office, further demonstrating her manliness. No Mexican delivery man with a wife and three kids to feed was going to steal this moment away from her.

"You can't come into the office without an appointment," the threateningly beautiful receptionist said in lieu of a greeting.

"Excuse me? Don't be so rude. I come bearing gifts!" Christy opened the dismal hospital blue bag covering the somewhat still fresh arrangement of chocolate covered berries, pineapples, cantaloupe and grapes. The receptionist, who had been receiving expensive and imaginative gifts on a consistent basies since the removal of her braces at 10, didn’t blink.

“You can leave that here. Who is it for?”

“Carl Creighton. That’s C-R-E”

“Carl? Are you sure? There’s a Carly in Accounting. And a Charlotte in Data Entry.”

To be continued