Page 2 of Flirt Away

However, he wasn’t opposed to dating—the right person. “All right. I’ll do it.”

2

Dixie Gaynor closed her eyes and inhaled sharply, the rich scent of chocolate and vanilla assaulting her nose. “Oh, my God, Crystal. I almost don’t want to take a bite.”

Crystal Morning laughed. “You’ve got a full box, so don’t be shy.”

With her pinky stuck up into the air as if she were a total snob, Dixie took what her mother would calla ladylike nibble. Which meant she barely allowed the frosting into her mouth, let alone the tasty treat.

“Seriously? I have half a mind to stuff that cupcake right in your face.”

And that right there was why Dixie loved Crystal so much. Of all her friends, Crystal never made her feel like the extra pounds she carried were anything to be ashamed of—or that they defined her as a person or a woman. As a matter of fact, Crystal had never said a single word to her about her weight unless Dixie brought it up. Not once.

Not something Dixie could say about most of her friends, and certainly not her family.

Especially her size-four mother—the plastic surgeon specializing in making women look and feel beautiful.

On the outside.

As if a nip and a tuck could cure life’s problems.

A group of young ladies strolled by, wearing tight leggings that showed off their toned legs. And, of course, formfitting tops that left nothing to the imagination. None of them had a single roll.

Even their boobs were nice, tight, and lifted toward the sky.

Probably fake, but not the point.

Dixie sighed. The old tapes constantly played in her mind, and she couldn’t stop them, though not for lack of trying. She resented that she couldn’t pause them or even erase them because they occasionally controlled not only her thinking, but her actions.

“If I eat more than half of this now, I’ll be on my third by dinner.” She wiped her fingers with a napkin and set the decadent treat back inside the box. She’d ordered the cupcakes to share with her clients, something she did a couple of times a month. And she always treated herself to a few. But she had to be careful. She understood how her mind and stomach worked and they were often in opposition.

It wasn’t as if she ate like this regularly. But shedidlike her food, and she made no apologies for having an appetite. Most of the time she loved her body, and she loved herself.

But every once in a while, she allowed someone to tell her not to.

She’d come to embrace being plus-sized five years ago after hating herself for spending a year on a yo-yo diet, going between a size four and a size twelve. She’d landed on the other side of the sofa as a patient after making herself so anxious that she couldn’t even eat food in front of people. When she did eat, it consisted of watermelon, salad, and maybe a few nuts. She was more unhealthy as a skinny person than she’d ever been as a fat one.

When she started eating again, she’d spent more time puking up what she put into her mouth than working on taking care of herself.

But those days were behind her. Why then did she sometimes feel so alone?

Because her mother repeatedly told her she needed a man and in order to get one, she needed to be thinner.

Worse, Dixie had let her mother get under her skin.

She raised the paper coffee mug to her lips and tasted the bitter caffeine rush. She stared out toward Puget Sound, watching the ferry leave the port. “I don’t know if you read my blog or not, but I post about being a plus-sized woman.”

“I love your blog, and I tell all my customers to read it.” Crystal inched closer on the park bench and looped her arm around Dixie’s shoulders. “The pictures are amazing. You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Dixie fiddled with the cup and let out a long breath. “Did you read the comments?”

“Don’t even go there,” Crystal said, giving her a good shake. “People are idiots.”

“That’s not even what sucks.” Dixie shifted her gaze, staring her longtime friend in the eyes. “The pictures were filtered. I’m a fraud. I’m not living what I blog about, and that’s being real.” She shouldn’t have let her mother or her sister see those images. “I have to either kill the blog or… or…” She let her words trail off. The idea of telling the world she was the name behindCreate the Dewterrified her because it meant she’d not only be exposing her true self, but she’d be forced to accept herself.

“What are you talking about? You are the most genuine person I know. And you’ve always said that haters are part of the blogging business. You’re out there, helping women. Some of my friends have totally become stronger and more assertive, thanks to you. I think it’s amazing.”

“I’m telling women to be comfortable in their own skin and not to let men—or anyone else for that matter—control their perceptions of themselves, and yet I’m doing it.” She shook her head, letting out a long breath. “I knew putting anything but a photo from the neck up would bring out the crazies who think women bigger than a size two don’t have an active sex life, much less a good one. But then I went and put the photograph through a filter, smoothing out my hips and stomach, making me look like I’m at least two sizes smaller.”

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