Sunday, May 29, 2011

FICTION. SATIRE. THE DIET's last installment.…

…we who diet have a never ceasing obligation to those who starve––

Robert Kennedy

0 lbs to go. I did it!

It must’ve been all that dancing last night and sticking to The Usual. I’m hungry. The small portions are taking their toll on me. I’m hungry.

But even before I eat, need to write this: Met this fabulous guy, Dan. We danced all night. Talked about our lives. We felt close to one another. I felt like going home with him for passionate love making. I’ve heard is very good for losing weight. But Tessa and I made a pact long ago, we go out together. We go home together. Tonight she is happy for me. I have a dinner date with Dan, tomorrow night.

Will have to be careful with that dinner though. Don’t want to gain all seven pounds back at one sitting. It happens that way to me. Isn’t that something? A dinner date, a problem! Something to worry about. What a mess! Have to plan this dinner. What I’m going to eat. Have to be careful.

But don’t know what restaurant we are going to. Will the servings be very large? I have to be careful.

I don’t believe it. A dinner date a problem? This is depressing……………………*

Problems? How come there r problems? What..........?

Thank U 4 playing with me. Thank U 4 Ur feed back. I'm grateful 4 Ur friendship. Am working on another short story. Soon as I finish it, I'll share it with U.


Sunday, May 22, 2011

SATIRE. FICTION. THE DIET's 7th installment

…we who diet have a never ceasing obligation to those who starve–– Robert Kennedy

Friday, May 30

2 lbs to go. Wonderful.

I’m closer to my goal than I’ve been in a long time. And found a couple of messages of possible roommates. And I’m socializing a lot, dating. Want to date others before I call Larry. Want to work at a better profile, firmer flesh, better fitting clothes. At the mirror last night. I admired myself long, caressed my thighs thinking of Larry. Today have to work in another law office.

Walking downtown I’m aware of the contrasts. Beggars, plush department store windows, elegant people. Beggars. Old woman begging, sitting on the sidewalk leaning her back against the grey cement wall of Nordstroms. Hand outstretched, back of her head reached just to the edge of store window where shoned a table exquisitely set: lace table cloth, sterling silver, crystal, fresh flowers, completing the picture, bottles of wine in silver coolers. Beggars.

My assignment over. At home I’m taking a nap ‘cause I’m going out tonight. At nine Tessa will pick me up. She’s quite bossy If I’m not ready she’ll give me a sermon. Her good side? always ready to go dancing. We are going to Señor Pepe in Foster City and will meet friends there. I’ll order The Usual, will not touch the hors-d' oeuvres specially the chips and hot sauce. I know if I taste one, wont be able to stop.

U believe they r really fattening? But fat can b gd also! Where is the truth? What do U think?

Till next Sun. C U then.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

SATIRE. FICTION. THE DIET's #6 Peaches? What's that got................

…we who diet have a never ceasing obligation to those who starve–– Robert Kennedy

Thursday, May 29
3 lbs to go.

Progress! My clothes fit me so much better.
4 tbs bran ½ a banana ¾ cup of milk

I chew slowly, count to 37 with each mouthful.Relationships––come to mind. I’m seriously considering calling Larry today. Maybe today we’ll patch it up.

After housework, I’ll start work on the translation that’s due next week for DEL MONTE Corp. All about peaches.

Around 3 Diane, dropped by. I don’t like her. Came to apologize, to tell me, I did the right thing asking her to move out. This delights me as delights to the palate. My mind strays to food when under stress.

Offered Diane a cup of, tea? Gingerly. Not as in ginger cookies. But as in nervously, for I never know what kind of diet she is on. Sometimes Diane’ll eat all kinds of impure things while swearing loyalty to bean sprouts and soy milk.

Diane declined. I’ve been invited to dinner next door, I better get going.

I made myself a café au lait with Sweet and Low. And got back to my peaches.

What's peaches got to do with anything? R they fattening? Am only writing about them........

C U nxt Sun

Sunday, May 8, 2011

SATIRE. FICTION, THE DIET. 5th installment. Only 3 to go.

…we who diet have a never ceasing obligation to those who starve

Robert Kennedy

Wednesday May 28

3lbs to go.

I looked in the mirror, my dimples! Had forgotten I had them. And my clothes hang better. Making progress. Stress free days help. I’ll continue to skip dinner. Had lots of phone calls. Carmela, Chicana activist will come over tomorrow night. We want to get together before she leaves to help harvest coffee crops in Nicaragua.

Carmela suggested we go out to eat. I didn’t say no, don’t want to hear: YOU DON’T NEED TO LOSE ANY WEIGHT.

Clara also called. We are having dinner together next Thursday evening. She is into advancing her spirituality with exercises, classes. But I'm concerned about her. ‘Cause she’s living with Bob, twenty years older than her, boring, unkept, paunchy, bald, and ‘cause she runs––her own words––after him, like a jealous teen-ager. This amazes me, everyone, and even Bob who watches her wide eyed and parted lips: IS SHE RUNNING, AFTER ME? WHY?

That’s what I say too, why?

I want security, she said.

With Clara there won’t be any eating. She told me with great zest she is on a strict diet, At lunch time, the people in the office bring out their vegetables and we all eat together. Is my only meal of the day. That’s it.

At six I’ll leave for guitar class. If I arrive at Burlingame Rec too early I’ll sit in the car reading How to Slice Inches from your Waistline.

And you, do you feel you need to lose weight?

C U nxt Sunday.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

THE DIET. 4th installment. FICTION.

…we who diet have a never ceasing obligation to those who starve––Robert Kennedy

Tuesday, May 27

4 lbs to go. All right!

8am The mirror tells me, the layers of fat––real or imaginary––keep peeling away from my face.

4 tbs bran ½ a banana ¾ nonfat ½ cup café au lait

No vacation from my interpreting work. Have a deposition. Packed a lunch of 6 tbs rice. ½ a banana cooked for a minute in the microwave. 2 thin slices pound cake, handful of almonds. Thermos with café au lait.

These days my focus is on food so I noticed the law office was of the “bones and rags” variety. Nobody offers you coffee, had to insist on getting a glass of water. Sparse, old furniture, nobody smiles. Depo finished. Didn’t ask if there was a lunchroom, would probably charge me to use it. Before leaving the building went in the bathroom. I’m not crazy about eating in bathrooms. But was famished. It was clean. No odors. I attacked the pound cake. The two tiny, thin slices, tasted delicious. Poured myself some café au lait. Rushed to my next assignment.

This law office was absolutely splendid located in the Pyramid, my favorite San Francisco building. In its lobby on exhibit were beautiful ––they looked edible––carved gourds. The suite I was working in had an enormous lobby with an unending view of San Francisco, the Pacific, Angel Island, Tiburon, Sausalito, Golden Gate Bridge. And as soon as I introduced myself the receptionist asked me: How do you like your coffee?

Next, interpreting at a medical examination. The suite small, no views, no coffee. Usually doctor’s don’t serve any.

Once though a doctor produced a cup just to get me out of the examining room. Him and the lady patient understood each other perfectly. He ran his hands through her body and lady patient squirmed and giggled like a teenager making out on her first date. The doctor’s cheeks redder and redder, his eyes moist, lower lip shaking. Then he remembered me, the interpreter, jumped off the lady patient, took hold of my elbow, walked me out to the hallway where he told his assistance, serve her a cup of coffee, please. And to me, ah! uhm! don’t need an interpreter. Thank you.

This evening I went to meet Eva. Haven’t seen each other in a while. Got off at Market and Castro. Damned! Where did Eva say we were meeting, Cocolat?

I walked a few paces on Church away from Market and asked a pair of one way glasses who bent over solicitous and interested, Cocolat? Or something like that.

This way at the end of that building, he said.

That was a tiny store choking with chocolates. No. Damn! What did Eva say? So I walked a little more on Church. Another tiny store, Just Desserts, stared at me. That was it.

They dared me, the desserts. Tried to seduce me. Huge strawberries stuck out their tongues at me, red moist while swaying on oceans of whipped cream next to almonds, other nuts, coconut gratings and oceans of chocolate sauce and vanilla custard.

I’LL SHOW THEM. And holding on to the memory of those layers of fat peeling from face, and the ones still to go, I entered.

So I ordered, SMALL cup of chocolate. No whipped cream.

$ 5.00. I siphoned it.

At a tiny table nearby a party was going on with persons grouped all around it, their children running, bumping into each other, ‘cause of the lack of space, their clothes smeared with more strawberries, whipped cream, coconut, almonds, walnuts than they could eat even if they stayed all night. Obviously they weren’t thinking of all the hungry children in the world. When I was little I was reminded almost daily that they were in China. One child of about five screams louder than the others. Her mother places another pastry in the child’s mouth.

Who invented chocolate anyway? I read, the Aztecs. Did they get fat? Did they count calories? C U nxt Sunday.