I'm sick. I'm sitting in my pajamas working late into the evening, and, best of all, I gained 3 lbs since Monday. Two days. Three pounds. I am now almost as fat as Oprah. With a little luck, I'll be fatter than Oprah by Friday.
After my perplexing weigh-in, I explained to the mid-twenties "counselor" that I hadn't cheated since my McDonald's episode on Friday night. Heather's "theory" was that, in some people, it takes awhile for your body to register the "bad food." Thank you, doctor. Despite the "potential bullshit" detector bleeping in my head, I found nodding in satisfaction to her answer.
I find myself nodding along a lot at LA Weight Loss. There are quite a few times when, in response to a question, they supply an answer they've formed by guessing, fibbing, or reading their sales manual. And I accept their answers because it's not worth the argument. At most, I could corner them into admitting they don't know the answer. But I already knew that. I guess I don't find much satisfaction in knowing that they know that I know that they don't know the answer. [I save that for dating and the courtroom.] It's a zero-sum game, really. Just like my diet, so far. Well, in actuality, that's a negative sum game, as I'm up one pound since my first visit.
So, back to the think tank. Heather kept me at bay for a few minutes, quizzing me about my diet and chatting about her husband. Before I knew it, I was released back into the wild. As I stood up to leave, Heather allowed me a deeper glimpse into her young, hollow, Magic City-bred mind. Here's the transcript.
Heather: So, any big plans for the evening?
Me: Nope, just going back to work.
Heather: Oh. Where do you work? [note that she asked "where."]
Me: At a law firm. [directly answering her question.]
Heather: Wow, they're still open at this time of night?!?
Me: Um, no, but I am.
Heather: [blank stare].
Me: I'm one of the lawyers.
Heather: [awkward silence]. [blink, blink]. [bright fake smile]. Good for you!!!
Me: [quizzical look]. Ah....thanks? [shuffle quickly to the door.]
Now, either I look stupid, or she assumes that women have jobs, not careers. I'm going to step out on a limb and say it's the latter. And not because I think I'm particularly intelligent-looking, although Bamboo did select some rather smart-looking specs for me. Ah, yet another zero-sum game.
After my perplexing weigh-in, I explained to the mid-twenties "counselor" that I hadn't cheated since my McDonald's episode on Friday night. Heather's "theory" was that, in some people, it takes awhile for your body to register the "bad food." Thank you, doctor. Despite the "potential bullshit" detector bleeping in my head, I found nodding in satisfaction to her answer.
I find myself nodding along a lot at LA Weight Loss. There are quite a few times when, in response to a question, they supply an answer they've formed by guessing, fibbing, or reading their sales manual. And I accept their answers because it's not worth the argument. At most, I could corner them into admitting they don't know the answer. But I already knew that. I guess I don't find much satisfaction in knowing that they know that I know that they don't know the answer. [I save that for dating and the courtroom.] It's a zero-sum game, really. Just like my diet, so far. Well, in actuality, that's a negative sum game, as I'm up one pound since my first visit.
So, back to the think tank. Heather kept me at bay for a few minutes, quizzing me about my diet and chatting about her husband. Before I knew it, I was released back into the wild. As I stood up to leave, Heather allowed me a deeper glimpse into her young, hollow, Magic City-bred mind. Here's the transcript.
Heather: So, any big plans for the evening?
Me: Nope, just going back to work.
Heather: Oh. Where do you work? [note that she asked "where."]
Me: At a law firm. [directly answering her question.]
Heather: Wow, they're still open at this time of night?!?
Me: Um, no, but I am.
Heather: [blank stare].
Me: I'm one of the lawyers.
Heather: [awkward silence]. [blink, blink]. [bright fake smile]. Good for you!!!
Me: [quizzical look]. Ah....thanks? [shuffle quickly to the door.]
Now, either I look stupid, or she assumes that women have jobs, not careers. I'm going to step out on a limb and say it's the latter. And not because I think I'm particularly intelligent-looking, although Bamboo did select some rather smart-looking specs for me. Ah, yet another zero-sum game.
8 comments:
Well my little sour friend, I was going to give you some (priceless) advice, but I feel you would just analyze it, realize the source, check credibility and ultimately smile and nod. Uff-da!
Only kidding, keep your pretty little chin up, as you know oh to well, you will not get anywhere without hard work. I have all the confidence in you and your new found journey.
*insert virtual hug here*
P.S.
Sorry to hear your sick.
my own advice for the day.
1. my new coworker, emily, has a client who insists upon calling her "country girl" b/c he says she has a country girl name. at least miss prom queen day job girl doesn't call you country girl.
2. as for the little black dress incident, they always say dress for the job you want, not the job your have. well try this, dress for the life you want, not the life you have. wear that dress when it fits again. even if you just wear it to the grocery store to buy your cocktail shrimp.
3. as for the 3lb weight gain, maybe you just need to poop. molly (i mean magenta) always insisted that pooping cured all maladies including headaches, hangovers and the flu. that is probably the solution here too.
-summer ayers
methinks anonymous tain't so anonymous no more. :)
Summer Ayers is a psuedonym.
Yep, I know.
Didn't know you were the 2nd "anon" poster, NMD. Sorry.
i'm really just too lazy to figure out how to not post annonymously. so i signed my name so you would all know it was me.
summer
I knew it was you before I saw it signed by Summer. You could have written it in sanscrit and signed it "Love Santa Claus" and I would have known it was you, that is if I could read sanscrit. :)
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