Okay, so for those of you not in the know, Buttercombe Academy is this really ritzy all girls' school that I went to. It's basically a private school, but it's pretty isolated. There's this dumpy little down a little further down the mountain trail, but that's it. They have credentials out the wazoo, but they only accept the best of the best or the richest of the richest. Occasionally there's a mystery attendant thrown in (me!) who no one is really sure how they got accepted, but I digress.
I spent four years there, and I came home every Summer at least fifty pounds heavier than the year before. Ms. Polluck, the headmistress, lived and breathed politics. A lot of important peoples' daughters went there, so she made sure that everyone was as comfortable and cozy as could be. Nice cafeteria, lots of anemities in the dorm rooms, plenty of "fun" classes. It was really easy to gain weight if you didn't watch yourself, which most of the girls did. I was something of a sterling example, considering about half-way through I decided that I liked my body, but seriously, I was not the only girl who turned into a total cow by the time their four years were up.
The good news was that I really bonded with a lot of girls over the years. The bad news was that since most of them lived really far away, I was pretty sure that I'd never see anyone ever again.
Key word being "thought."
A couple of weeks before, I got a Facebook message from one of my old roommates. She were going to be in town for a while, something about her father, and thought it would be really nice if we met up again. I told her that sounded great, and we should do lunch.
So I got lunch. The Saturday that she was supposed to arrive, I parked myself in a McDonalds and ordered myself a dozen McDoubles and started grazing.
Yeah, I know, McDonalds. Cliche. But hey, we Buttercombe Girls have a reputation of having really big appetites. The only problem being that, unlike my visiting friend, my Daddy didn't sneeze out hundreds whenever I wanted him to. So I knew if we were going to go out on the town, I had to eat cheap. Thus, McDonalds.
I'd dressed nice enough. It was Autumn, and I'd put on maybe another thirty pounds since I'd last seen her. But it was starting to cool off, so I wore my once-roomy Buttercombe Academy hoodie. It was pretty snug now, wrapping all the way around me (just barely) and managing to keep me mostly decent. My yoga pants were paper-thin though, stretched across my massive ass so far you could count the dimples. I attracted some stares, yeah, but I really couldn't blame them. If I remembered our message right, my guest should be dressed similarly.
Not that I needed clothes to pick out my old roomie...
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