Diary of a Mad Fat Girl by Stephanie McAfee

don’t
recollect.”
    “ You had the nerve, the audacity, to
go out in public, a bar of
all places, and shamelessly run your loud mouth about an incident that landed you
in jail and then you decide
to really get funny and start making fun of me and the fact that you are about to lose
your job . Do you think you
can make fun of me and get
away with it? You respect me
because I am your superior. ”
    It never fails. News travels at the speed of
light in Bugtussle, Mississippi.
    “ Did it ever occur to you, Cathy, that
I reserve my respect for people who earn it and, quite frankly,” I cock my head
sideways and look at her, “that’s not you. Furthermore, I will say whatever I want to say
wherever I want to say it and there is not one small thing that you
can do about it because I do believe that freedom of speech is
still in full effect in the Constitution.”
    She glares at me and her porky face is blood
red.
    “ What are you gonna do, Mrs.
Hilliard?” I ask with all the sarcasm I can muster. “Write me up
for drinking a beer and hanging out with my friends? I mean, while
drinking beer is considered a mortal sin by you fine upstanding
hypocrites over at the First Self-Righteous Church, people with a
good dose of common sense know that we’re not going to hell for it,
regardless of what your personal opinion is.”
    “ I will get rid of you,” she says.
“That I promise. You and that
slutty little friend of yours.”
    “ What?” I yell.
    “ And I will have you know that my
grandchildren, my grand children were having dinner on the patio of
Pier 57 and heard every word
you said and you will not get
away with making fun of me in
public places. Especially in front of my grand children.”
    “ If I’d known they were listening, I
would’ve given them a little shout out about overcoming childhood
obesity because, you know, gluttony is right up there with drunkenness as a big ol’
no-no according to the Bible,” I say and smile and she presses her
lips together and sucks a long breath of air through those pig
nostrils, “and I will start recording all of our conversations from
here on out and I’ll contact
the Mississippi Association of Educators and let them know all
about your big plans to fire me for personal reasons.”
    “ You call whoever you want. It’s not
going to make any difference,” she says and leans toward me and I’m
afraid for a second that she’s going to bite me. “You are an
embarrassment to the teaching profession, Miss Jones.”
    “ And you are a scab on the ass of
humanity, Mrs. Hilliard.” I smile at her.
    “ Be in my office at lunch time,” she
says and stomps toward the door.
    “ I’ll probably be on the phone with my
attorney during lunch.”
    “ Really,” she says, spinning around to
face me, “I thought things didn’t work out very well for you and
your attorney. Terrible mess
from what I heard. You moving to Florida and thinking he was going
to marry you when he had another woman all along.
Tragic. ” She turns around and
walks toward the door.
    “ That’s not exactly right,” I stammer,
a little shell-shocked from the brutal honesty, “but what do you
care about what’s right? Self-service is your only
concern.”
    “ Miss Jones,” she says as she reaches
for the doorknob, “have you ever heard the phrase Quit while you’re behind? You might
want to consider that.”
    She jerks the door open and nearly bulldozes
Logan Hatter.
    “ Excuse me, Mrs. Hilliard,” he says
politely and holds out his hand, “come on out.”
    “ Out of my way, Hatter!” she shouts
and stomps past him, beige pumps bulging.
    Coach Hatter comes in my classroom with wide
eyes and a questioning look.
    “ I’m really startin’ not to like her,”
he says with boyish innocence. “I have never been anything but nice
and respectful to that woman and she talks to me like I stole
something out of her back yard.”
    “ You’re guilty by association,
Hatter,” I tell him. “Find