Full Figured



I considered myself to be a beautiful forty-year-old woman. I was confident about myself and even though my breasts weren’t as perky as they’d been before and some cellulite was visible on my thighs, there wasn’t much for me to complain about. Those things came along with the territory, and my two-times-a-week workout wasn’t going to change a thing. My four-mile walk aerobics class helped me stay fit, but I had an addiction to sweets! Still, my body was proportioned well and what kind of man didn’t want a woman with some meat on her bones? Reggie never had any complaints, but I had a feeling he traded me in for a woman who was half my size and age. It was his loss, though, and whenever I confessed my true age, no one believed me. My hair was healthy as ever and with the help of Pantene shampoo and conditioner, it gave me the feathery bouncing and behaving dark brown long hair I was aiming for. Halle Berry with long hair was written all over my face, but my body was thick like Toccara’s from America’s Next Top Model. Resembling Halle or having Toccara’s body wasn’t enough to spare me from losing the love of my life though. No doubt, I had to get over Reggie and it was a crime for a woman like me to feel so alone.

-from “Who Ya Wit’” by Brenda Hampton

And who is gonna love you like I do?

Avery knew something was up the moment she walked through the front door and heard Babyface singing. The smell of garlic and spices filled the air, which was a clear indicator that Duke was cooking. Slipping out of her jacket, she continued into the dining room and smiled at the candlelit table, perfectly set.

“Welcome home, boo.” Duke walked up behind her and kissed her gently on her neck. “How was your day?”

“It started out rough, but it keeps getting better and better,” she told him as she turned around and put her arms around him. “How was yours?”

“Better, now that you’re home.” He leaned in and covered her mouth with his. Avery felt herself melting. The wetness of his tongue welcomed her and she indulged herself in his taste, moaning in the process. After all these years, kissing him still made her weak at the knees.

-from “Seven Year Itch” by La Jill Hunt

Full Figured: Carl Weber Presents Copyright © 2010 Brena Hamptom and La Jill Hunt All rights reserved. Reprinted by arrangement with Urban Books, LLC c/o Kensington Pub. Corp.