…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.
