Wednesday, February 24, 2010

the losing 5

tired sitting here picking my nose wondering where to begin, again. danielle was quite pleased yesterday with the loss of a pound. we all celebrated by jumping up and down. her husband, whose name escapes me at the moment, clapped and wolf whistled. what the hell is his name anyway? dale? i can't remember. i am staying up to late watching television with the wife. i am sneaking out of bed too many times to stuff my face with pop corn and chocolate.
i have stopped going to the scale. the idea of the old woman, the numbers and disappointment is too much to bear. now we go to the lectures and afterwards when the line moves me to the front where the old woman is i pay and quickly turn about and leave. she says nothing, her wise weathered eyes pinched and crow footed wet about the corner as i turn to leave. people in my position are called wait ______ in the community. everyone who has started where i have started has had set backs.
the first time i did not weigh in our leader took note. the second time she stopped me by the door.
'charlie, hey how are you doing with all this?'
'my best,' i said.
she is a medium sized dark skinned woman. claudette, she has no lipstick on over her bulbous purple lips. claudette is wearing a red top over a black dress and if there was one word to describe her it would be kind.
'listen, we have all been here.'
'i'm okay. just not ready to get back on the scale,' i say trying to short circuit a longer conversation.
'i know, i know. just remember the motto of the jews,' she says.
i suck my lip and think for a moment.
'and what is that?'
claudette stares into my eyes. she has the unblinking power of a stare that mother's obtain somewhere in the evolution of raising children.
'if you keep walking, you'll make it to the promise land,' she says, 'all we are is these things we aspire to.'
'very good,' i say.
'wonderful, thank you,' says my wife and i feel a rage beginning to boil.
my wife is beautiful standing there. she is wearing a deep blue form fitting top, she is wearing tight clean straight legged brown slacks. she is wearing heeled shoes that allow her toes to peek through. she has her hair styled straight with the bangs to the side and her makeup is on. i am torn by her beauty and kindness and the fact that her weight control/loss makes me want to scream obscenities into her face.
you can love someone and be furious at their success. you can love someone and be completely eaten away by jealousy. i am a fat guy, i shouldn't have a woman this beautiful but at the same time i do so she must take the full force of my character and it's judgements.
now at the door to this nondescript business center, we are getting ready to leave. we say good night and thank you to claudette and she rushes over to talk to another wait ______. as we are moving into the night air i think of danielle. i think of her massive piles of flesh flopping up and down as she jumped. i think of my own massive stomach and breasts flopping up and down if i were to jump off the scale.
success is in the continual attempts. if you are falling down keep getting up it's only when you stop that you fail. if you never stop you can't fail. i am rubbing my stomach while we drive home. tonight i want to make love to my wife. tonight i want to start again get back up, commit and face the scale. tonight i want to shed the wait label and begin my life.
'that was nice, tonight,' my wife says and reaches for my hand.
'what part?'
'just he whole thing, how claudette talked with us and how the woman and her husband were so excited. i don't know, it makes you feel good to see people acheive something,' she says and leans her head back.
i know she is not thinking about me. i know she is not hinting about my scale avoidance and how she wishes i would try harder. at least i think i know those things, but something sparks a fire anyways. something causes me to withdraw, be hurt and angry anyways. we drive in silence and i think of danielle and i think how i will show my wife who can achieve.
this week will be different, starting tomorrow. i think and pull the car into the driveway, we are home.

No comments:

Post a Comment