If it wasn't for Postmodern Literature 2401 starting at 12:45, Lyndsay could eat lunch at a time of her choosing, preferably much later, when there were vast expanses of open seating. But now the cafeteria was a zoo, buzzing with loud conversation and the clink clank of silverware. She could only locate one vacant table, and it was at the end of the room.
Lindsay wasn't especially good with crowds, and the idea of wading through the chunky soup of humanity to eat her meal in relative solitude made her stomach somersault like a meth-addled trapeze artist. She felt underdressed. No, she was fully covered, but any clothing would be hard pressed to conceal her form, which went from outrageously busty, tapered to a thirty-two inch waist, and flared way, way out into hips that could be called epic while still comfortably avoiding overstatement. The best cloak she possessed was her long hair, which shrouded an embarrassingly large rear. Other girls had junk in the trunk. She had an entire landfill.
So with small shuffling steps calculated to minimize the jiggling and swaying of her rounded regions, tray brandished like a plow, Lindsay made her way down the room, hoping nobody was paying much attention to her passage. Judging by the number of wolf-whistles she received, that seemed very unlikely.
Woot, you're on fire! Scratch that, you're on LIGHTNING. Even fire doesn't go this fast. Seriously, my Live bookmark is 9/10ths consumed with new work from you in such a short time. Don't burn yourself out, now!
I knew a girl like that in high school, with hips wider than her shoulders... I never got the chance to get to know her, but she made my teen years an interesting time for me. O_o
Wow I finally noticed the fearsomely full rear that Lyndsay wields. Perhaps she'll find fame with a book jacket photo that is closely cropped to her face.
Imagine a signing or her being invited to speak later in her career. Professional obligations might just be the inertia needed to triumph over her insecurities.
I had a friend/gf who looked almost just like her in high school, save for the pig tails (and she was a red head). I love the way you draw the bigger girls. Great piece as always.
Lindsay wasn't especially good with crowds, and the idea of wading through the chunky soup of humanity to eat her meal in relative solitude made her stomach somersault like a meth-addled trapeze artist. She felt underdressed. No, she was fully covered, but any clothing would be hard pressed to conceal her form, which went from outrageously busty, tapered to a thirty-two inch waist, and flared way, way out into hips that could be called epic while still comfortably avoiding overstatement. The best cloak she possessed was her long hair, which shrouded an embarrassingly large rear. Other girls had junk in the trunk. She had an entire landfill.
So with small shuffling steps calculated to minimize the jiggling and swaying of her rounded regions, tray brandished like a plow, Lindsay made her way down the room, hoping nobody was paying much attention to her passage. Judging by the number of wolf-whistles she received, that seemed very unlikely.