WALKING ON THIN ICE

From Moroccan tannery

I’m vigilant about nutrition. I try to follow the food pyramid, count calories, walk or run daily, etc., and I weigh myself every morning. This is how I’ve maintained my weight loss for two years. It took five years to lose my “other Kathy” and I refuse to get fat again.

I eat a cookie. I look for the box. I want to know the magnitude of caloric damage.

“Where is the box for this?” I ask Smith. “I need the nutritional information.”

“I folded it up and put it in the trash.” He pops a cookie into his mouth. Sees the last one, tries to give it to me. “Here, you eat the last cookie. That way it’ll be fair.”

“Don’t ask me that. I don’t want another cookie. I don’t even like these. You eat that. You’re bigger than I am. You don’t want me to get FAT, and I don’t want to BE fat again.”

“Oh, if you get fat, I’ll put you in a cage.”

“You couldn’t have FIT me in a cage.”

“It’ll be tight. Your flesh might ooze out around the bars. That’s what I do. I put fat people in cages. That’s how Mom lost weight. She got tired of her cage. I kept making the cage smaller, increased her desire to get thinner. I don’t even have to use bars. I just use society as my cage. Plus I make the fat people suffer. I put wheels on the cages. Then I drive real slow past the french fry windows.”

“Oooo… french fries.” Fresh McDonalds fries sound really good to me right now.

“I also toss them plastic potato chips.”

“I want a half pan of Pizza Hut Pizza, that’s what I’m craving.”

“You gonna buy products from the corporate evil-doers? I thought you had principles. I guess I better order your cage. Let’s go…”