Page 7 of Sending Nudes to My Boss

“Yeah?”

“I have a confession. I think I have a crush on my boss.”

Her eyes widen and she claps her hands together.

“I knew it!” she says with glee. “I knew a man could only drive youthatcrazy if you cared about him. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I don’t think I understood my own feelings,” I reply honestly. “Maybe I’ve been in denial? Because I don’t want to have a crush on him. I don’twantto want him. But I do.”

“What’s so bad about William? He’s a successful guy. Good-looking too.”

“But he’s a jerk.”

“A jerk who got out of bed in the middle of the night to come to your aid?”

“Yeah…”

She has a point. If my boss is really such a jerk, why did he do that? And why hasn’t he been acting all smug and superior about it since he did it, the way I expected him to?

Today in the office, we went over every detail of the incident that led to my arrest. Starting with Heather approaching me in the bar and “accidentally” spilling her drink on me. Then making fun of my curvy girl boudoir photography business. And then shoving me against the bar, so hard that the back of my arm scraped painfully against the wood.

That’s when I lost my cool. I’ll admit, I used way more force against Heather than was necessary. There’s no way you could call what I didself-defense.More like finally letting out all of my pent-up anger I’ve held towards this bully since she used to tease me in 9th grade gym class.

Yes. Just like my friend Katie, Heather and I go all the way back to high school. We have a history, and it’s not a good one.

Bullies never expect you to stand up to them. And when you do, they cry victim. That’s exactly what Heather did. She spilled that drink, insulted me, then shoved me.

So I hit her.

Hard.

Is it my fault she was so confident that she didn’t expect me to retaliate? Is it my fault she lost her balance, hit the floor,and then burst into a pathetic puddle of tears so that everyone around us stopped dancing and looked at the scene?

To every onlooker, it seemed like I just randomly attacked her. But that’s not the truth.

The next thing I knew, I was being put into the back of a squad car while a crowd of Wild Bronco locals gawked.

Katie and I spend the rest of the night getting buzzed on margaritas and brainstorming ridiculous revenge plots against Heather that we’ll never actually act upon. We imagine replacing her shampoo with Nair and slashing her tires, all of the immature high school acts that we wish we’d had the guts to do back in the day.

By the end of the night we’ve decided we’re too damn old for those games. We’re strong, independent women. Confident women.

And we don’t need revenge…because the best revenge of all is a life well lived.

I don’t know if someone famous said that, or if we just saw it on a bumper sticker one time and decided it’s our new motto. All I know is that it rings true.

“To self-confidence!” Katie lifts her glass for a toast. It’s probably our tenth toast tonight. We keep inventing progressively more outlandish ones.

“To William’s tight butt,” I say, tapping my glass against hers.

“I would toast to that, too, but my husband is probably eavesdropping upstairs and he has some serious jealousy issues,” Katie replies. “But I’m happy that you found a toast-worthy butt to admire.”

“If only it was attached to a man I had a chance with. Or who liked me.”

“How do you know that he wouldn’t like you?” Katie asks me.

“Please. He’s…him. Look at him! And I’m…me.”

“Dot, you literally own a photography business that is meant to give plus-sized women confidence in their bodies. You sexually empower women for a living. Don’t tell me you think you don’t have a chance with this guy because of your weight.”

---