Buck Cooper can’t remember when he became socially invisible—probably when he hit 300 pounds. Now he’s working a dead end job, getting no notice from his boss and no love from the cute secretary he pines for.
But when he gets shanghaied to Tokyo, all of that changes for the mild-mannered Buck—because this blond Texan is about to go sumo!
Peek inside the secret world of sumo, and cheer for Buck as he fights his way through the ranks— against bullies of incredible size—to win the heart of the girl he loves.
He’d always sensed Alison Turner was the one girl who had the X-ray vision that let her see through all Buck’s outer layers into his inner goodness.
Most people had more than X-ray vision when it came to seeing Buck: they saw clean through him. How could someone who took up as much of the visible spectrum of light as he did still be utterly invisible, the fat guy no one noticed? Sometime he’d calculate and find a quantifiable ratio between a person’s becoming less noticeable and reaching a certain body mass index.
Buck thought back. What marked the beginning of his invisibility? When he hit three hundred pounds? And he wasn’t invisible just to women. Around the office barely a handful of guys (mostly Ranjit’s countrymen) knew his name—although only as “Mr. Buck.”
Suddenly it hit him—the reason Alison noticed him today. The promotion! It had to be the promotion. Management had been bandying his name about, Alison caught wind of it and called to congratulate him. Joy melted him into a puddle of grease.
Then reality resurged and bit hard, and he pulled open his desk’s bottom drawer. Book titles stared out at him:
You and Your Super-Slim Hardbody.
Ripped Abs Without Steroids the Dwayne Johnson Way.
Lose to Win.
Several promised quick weight loss with little effort. Others required vast amounts of dedication and time. None of them recommended deep fried okra from Charlie Unger’s five days a week.
A-ha. There it was—the fake “before and after” picture of himself he’d photo-doctored on a free website. It showed how he looked now at 375, beside a potential picture of himself at 220, the perfect weight for his six-foot-six height according to web experts. His Gold’s Gym membership haunted him. Maybe if he hadn’t avoided it so religiously for the past year, he wouldn’t be sitting here cursing the sweat pool between the layers of flab on his back like some panting beached walrus.
“My, my, son. You have got to get that hair of yours cut.” A woman’s voice cut the air, and Buck snapped awake. Mom! “You’re starting to look like Jon Bon Jovi. Or is it David Lee Roth? The blond one.”
“Mom, what’re you doing down here?”
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Jennifer Griffith is a wife and a mother of five, and although she’s never seen a Jennifer Griffith is a wife and a mother of five, and writes all manner of romantic comedy–her husband supplies the romance, and the kids supply the comedy. She lives in Arizona now, but in college she lived in Japan for almost two years. At 5’1″ tall, she never once sumo wrestled.
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Magazine: Auto Week
Weekend Entertainment: Demolition Derby
Art Museum: National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC
Beach: Haleiwa (North Shore, Hawaii)
U.S. Forefather: Thomas Jefferson
Kind of Bath Towel: Crusty and Thirsty
Movie: What’s Up Doc
Music: American Standards Sung By Great Crooners
Day 13 Blogger List: