Title: Emotional Cuisine
Authoress: Lady Constantine
Fandom from Which This Fiction Hails: Stephanie Plum Series
Genre: Romance/Humor
Warnings: Rated T for language, violence, nudity, and basically all that comes in the package of a Stephanie Plum book.
Summary:
"I'm gonna lose the weight for my man even if it kills me! Just you watch Stephanie there's gonna Tallulah strutting around. But not right now, now that bucket of KFC extra spicy honey baked wings is lookin mighty fine."
When hit with a massive heart attack Lula begins to realize that she really needs to lose that weight. But can she stick to the diet, or will it end up another failure? Can she change her bad eating habits for the better or will the old ways prevail?
Author's Note: I'm not really sure where I plan to go with this. I guess whichever way the wind blows. I originally intended this to be a series of one-shots pertaining to Lula's weight but I think I might squeeze this into a full blown story! My first Stephanie Plum Series fic. Please enjoy!
Chapter 1-Two Hundred n' Some Change
A loud buzzing filled the room, jerking the figure on the bed from the land of unconsciousness. The damn alarm clock had woken her up on her day off. She planned on sleeping yesterday's incidents away, but it looks like that wasn't going to happen anymore. Lazily she reached towards it and threw it against the wall to shut it off-her repetitious way of starting the day.
"Ngh, six-thirty, time to eat."
Lula got up slowly, she was still sore from the night before. She had fallen asleep in a pink feathery robe that was no doubt from an FTA bust gone wrong. Lula groaned as she remembered the nightmare that had been the day before.
She and Steph had been searching for a man name Monaco Cruz. You'd think a guy with a name like that would have class, but he was just a royal pain in the ass. Cruz was a bartender at a triple-X joint just off the Jersey Turnpike. It was called 'Rosetta Dreams' on the account of everyone that walked in had to be wearing a pink article of clothing.
Lula-whose favorite color was pink-had gone in a pink zebra print top. Barely keeping down the fort was a leopard sequin belt that looked like it was out for the hunt. To add to the disaster she had managed to find black leather jeans that had just the right amount of tightness to get people looking. Steph had told her that her outfit was too good to be seen on the way over and to wear a coat over (which was a half hearted lie on her part). Lula agreed, and wore a pink boa and robe to distract passersby. Unfortunately it was too much of a distraction and it got more people looking. By the end of the night the boa and the robe were the only two pieces of clothing that survived the ecstasy induced rave.
Another groan. Hell, not even her size ten-too-small thong came out of the fray alive.
Lula didn't want to remember what the hell she did last night with who or what, so naturally she turned to her best friend for help, "I need some good home cookin. After that shit I could eat a whale." Comfort food.
Lula cracked four eggs to start with and cranked up the tunes. Since it was her homeboy Busta Rhymes she turned it up some more while getting out bacon, waffle, French toast, orange juice to complete the morning meal.
...and grits, everyone knows you can't have a bountiful breakfast without the grits...
She fried, greased and buttered everything but the orange juice. By the time she was done, everything was glazed over and gleaming with saturated oils and fats.
Lula licked her lips, "Now this is a meal. Not that 'Slim Fast' shit." She ate the gargantuan amounts of food wordlessly-except to exclaim at the taste of each unhealthy morsel. It was often exaggerated, she knew that freezer burned waffles and bacon could not compare to her baby, Tank's, cooking. He was an expert chef who knew how to cook anything and everything the right way. He made things taste wonderful without the stick of butter or quart of oil Lula needed.
Lula sighed, when Tank cooked for her, she felt a million pounds skinnier.
"If only I looked that fine," she grimaced, which brought her to the next part of the day; the much dreaded but equally ritualistic weigh-in. She had been doing it ever since she was able to walk, and she would be doing it until she could walk no longer.
Lula hobbled her way to the bathroom, hoping on the weight scale waiting for its technological genius in the field of measuring body mass that came in the form of an annoying beep.
"Two hundred fifty-three... seven more pounds than yesterday," she sighed again. It seemed like all Lula did was gain weight-even with jumps, the skips, and the runs Stephanie and she did daily to escape menacing and maniacal FTAs.
"Damn, her little white ass seems to get smaller and smaller while mine gets bigger!" Lula knew she ate a lot, but she didn't know how to stop, and probably wouldn't stop until something serious happened to her. Until then she would just have to balloon up so badly she'd have to be put on an I.V. "Then I'll loose the weight real quick like..." The ringing phone interrupted her inner thoughts. Lula couldn't make out the name that chimed from the voice of her Caller I.D. She turned down the radio just incase it was Tank. The answering machine came on.
"Hey Lulabird, it's Steph, I wanted to know if you would like to try catching Cruz again."
"Hell no," she responded to the machine.
"Maybe afterwards we can get lunch. I'm buying."
"Hell yes!" Lula ran to her closet to pick out what she was going to wear, she arrived at a peculiar Rainbow Brite looking outfit. "This will be perfect, wait till Steph sees this!" The world was about to feast their eyes on the full figured woman that was Tallulah. And it was a meal not many could eat at one sitting...
If at all...
A/N: There's chapter one folks, I know it's short but bare with me! The next chapters will be much better I promise