“Did you try any of these while we were in there?” Sloan asked as she shifted her body so she was standing sideways in front of the mirror.

She turned her head and glanced at the reflection of her perfectly curvaceous body. Her small waist, flat stomach, round butt, and overly large boobs made her look like a big black haired Barbie doll. I, on the other hand, looked like a boy with a nice ass and a pretty face.

“No, they’re stupid. Skinny sweats. What the fuck is a skinny sweat?” I laughed.

“Does my ass look fat in them?” she asked as she twisted her body back and forth.

“In those? Your ass looks like your ass. It’s like you painted it grey and put some little black speckeldy shit in the paint,” I said as I sat up on the bed.

“Does it look fat?” she asked as she slapped her hand against it and raised one eyebrow.

I stared at her ass as she looked at herself in the mirror. I wanted to look more like her. Her body was bangin’ ass hot. I glanced up at her face. Well, I’d take some parts of her body, but not those ratty assed eyebrows. She really needed to do something with those things. They looked like caterpillars.

“Sloan, you’re not fat. But those sweats look like shit. They’re too tight. You know how I like my sweats, I like ‘em loose, it makes me feel skinny. I can’t believe Victoria’s Secret is selling shit like that.”

I shook my head at the sight of the sweats glued to her skin like tights.

She turned to face me, pressed her hands to her hips, and scowled. “So my ass looks fat in them?”

I chuckled a light laugh. “Your ass isn’t fat. Ever. It looks like you’re naked. And grey. But if it’ll make you take those nasty fuckers off, yeah, your ass looks fat.”

”What about this bra? Does it really lift my boobs? Do they look big? Is it worth $60.00?” she asked as she pressed her arms against the sides of her boobs.

“Look big?” I shook my head and coughed as I began to laugh.

I was a little more than cheated while standing in line for boobs, but Sloan looked like she got whatever they failed to give me and a little more just because. She was not big or even thick as the guys liked to call girls. She was just tall. Tall with very large boobs and a nice round butt I secretly wished I had. Well, maybe not all of her butt, but half of it. If there was one area she had a little extra, it would be the perfectly rounded butt of hers.

“Well?” she asked as she continued to squeeze her boobs together with her upper arms.

God I wish I had boobs like those.

As they burst out the top of her new Bombshell Add 2 Cups bra, I couldn’t help myself. “You know, you really didn’t need to add two cup sizes, Sloan, I mean seriously. Your boobs were huge already. Now they’re ridiculous. Are you seriously going to wear that thing?”

She turned her head my direction and gave me the stink eye. “Yeah, I was going to wear it Saturday night.”

Perfect.

I sat up in the bed and tossed my legs over the side, “Perfect, another night of me waiting in the car while you bang some dude in the parking lot.”

“I don’t bang dudes in the parking lot. I wish you’d quit freaking saying that,” she said as she twisted her hips in front of the mirror.

“Well, whatever. Come on, get dressed. Let’s go out and do something,” I said.

“What do you want to do?” she asked as she lowered her arms and released her boobs.

Sloan and I, although best friends, differed in our desires for leisure activities. When we were out of school or off work, she liked to do nothing. I, on the other hand, preferred to stay busy doing anything. Anything but nothing. Winfield wasn’t much of a town, but there was always something we could do.

“Well, it’s not that late, let’s go to Hot Shotz,” I said.

“That bar is stupid. You know I hate going there. It’s Wednesday, we should just hang out, we’ve got school tomorrow,” she complained.

The thought of staying home wasn’t very appealing. It was five o’clock and early spring. The weather was a gorgeous 75 degrees, and I didn’t want to be confined in my 600 square foot apartment any more than I had to be. When I stayed home, I felt as if I was invisible. Other than Sloan, there was really no form of human contact for me. In the last year, since I expressed my intent of staying in Kansas and moving to Wichita, my parents had all but stopped talking to me.

My mother was nothing short of impossible at times. It was as if she felt a useful means of punishment was telling me she was disappointed in me. As a young girl, her disappointments caused me to strive to improve. After a lifetime of her expressed disappointments, I learned she would always be disappointed in me. Or at least she indicated she was, whether it was true or not I would never know. No differently than the boy who cried wolf, her complaints began to have less and less validity each time I heard them. I learned to roll my eyes each time she sent me a text message stating she was disappointed.

I often wondered if her continued expression of disappointment was what provoked me to be as competitive as I was. If possibly it caused me to be the way I was about men. In recent years, I had begun to believe my mother’s hatred toward every decision I made which didn’t include coming back to Ohio and being an active participant in her Baptist church formed me into the challenge seeking woman I had become.

My major in Criminal Justice was another thing she seemed to always take exception to. When I chose the career path, she said maybe I would grow up and change my mind. For my first year in college, she often asked what credits were transferrable to other majors. The same eye roll and I don’t know mother followed each time. Now almost complete with my major, she took time to tell me each time we spoke that she was disappointed in my choice, and asked what I expected to do for a career.

I really had no idea what I wanted to do for a career, but my original belief of being a law enforcement officer soon vanished. After a few years of studies, I realized I wasn’t as interested in the law enforcement side of things as I was the criminal or the criminal activity. Criminals fascinated me. Attempting to figure out the intricacies of their thoughts and how or why they did the things they did was beyond any other form of entertainment I could find.

I walked behind Sloan and looked into the mirror. “Let’s go to the park and just relax before it gets dark. We can get some sun.”

“Bum park? Yeah, you don’t want sun. You’ll want to talk to the bums hanging out there. I think that’s gross the way you’re always asking them questions. They’re gross. No, not interested,” she hissed.

“They’re fun to talk to, I feel sorry for them,” I responded.

She turned to face me and wrinkled her nose. “They’re gross. One day one of them is going to knock you down and rob you or something. I swear, the way you talk to those people, it’s nasty.”

“She twisted sideways and stared into the mirror as she raised her hand to her stomach. “Let’s go eat pizza.”

“Sounds good. It’s better than sitting here.”

“I’m going to wear this and see if anyone notices,” she said as she reached down to pick up her flats.

I rolled my eyes at the thought of her boobs being bigger than normal. As I glanced in the mirror at my B-cup, I silently wondered if my lack of boobs was one of the reasons I wasn’t more successful at picking up Mr. Nelson. 

“You ready?” she asked.

No, I need a boob job.

I glanced in her direction and turned to face the mirror. After inhaling a deep breath and exhaling a very audible sigh, I responded.

“I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”