“Callie says it’s absolutely awful. Take it off.” I now realize Quinn videoed me into this dress session so she could say exactlywhat she thought of every gown by passing off her opinions as my sentiments. Clever.
“Do you think I’m fat?” I ask, and then suck in my cheeks and bite down on the inside of my mouth to deflect the conversation from my talents I’ve let go fallow.
“I’m more worried about your brain than your body.” Quinn’s tapping aggressively on her screen to spotlight her point. “The woman who wroteMilkwas firing on all neurons, and I want to talk about how you are going to build that capacity back up.” Great. According to Dr. Kwan, and now Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, every ounce of me is out of shape.
“Did you hear what I read to you? Really hear?”
I bobble my head in asort ofgesture. “I can worry about my brain after I see Thomas on New Year’s Eve. For now, answer the question: Do I look like a popped can of Pillsbury biscuits?”
“Okay, well, let me ask you this: Are you fishing for a compliment or looking to hear the truth? Up to you.” That right there is a question only a friend of thirty-four years can ask and not get drop-kicked.
“The truth. I think. I don’t want to show up at Alice’s wedding with a false sense of confidence because I let you lie to my face.”
“Give me an all-over view with the phone,” Quinn instructs.
“’K, but you have to account for the fact I’m still in my sweats, the super-thick kind.”
“Noted. No one looks good in those.”You do, Quinn,I think to myself, and then hesitantly run the camera down my whole body, feeling very exposed even though the only skin I’m showing is from the neck up.
“You’ve looked better, but we all have. More importantly, I’m gonna guess you’ve felt better.”
“Turns out I’m not one of those women who loses their appetite and ends up with revenge body when they’ve been dumped.” I huff childishly because Quinnisthat type of woman, walking around New York the exact same size she was in college. “According to Thomas, eversince John and Andrew left for college, I have been feeding my sorrow rather than starving it. And now, according to my doctor, I have to undo the damage if I want to do more than limp through the next three decades. For the cherry on top of the sundae, Alice has forced my hand with the deadline of her wedding. If we had moved back to New York years ago, or hell, never left, I wouldn’t be in this situation.”
“I wasn’t aware Thomas was the one responsible for pushing you into a gallon of dissatisfaction and self-loathing in California.”
He isn’t, but he sure is easy to blame. Truth is, the hours I have spent thinking about food, feeling guilty about the food I consume, and then eating more food to quell the downward spiral spinning in my head is what has contributed to my self-loathing. All that time and brainpower could have been so much better spent figuring out a way for me to contribute to the world in service of something greater than my waistline. But instead of positively shifting my energy outward, I chose the path of least resistance: not caring about myself. Thomas simply called out what he saw, and he didn’t want to see it anymore, but I can’t admit that to anyone. Not even Quinn.
“Uh, do you not remember he left me in Sacramento saddled with a house that won’t sell and no career to speak of? I cannot show up to Alice’s wedding in the same condition as when Thomas left me. I need to wind the clock back a couple of years.”
“Callie, this isn’t about the wedding, and you know it.”
“It is,” I hiss back. “What else would it be about? My husband left me for a younger woman. There is absolutely nothing else on my mind other than making him feel disgrace and regret over ruining our family.”
“Asshole move aside, Thomas is creating a new life for himself. Focusing on showing him up keeps your attention on him instead of restarting your own life. Getting back to work, remembering your talents, running; you need to do that stuff foryou. Not him. It’s long past time.”
“I went for one run; don’t get overly excited.” I dismiss my first step to working on my health in an attempt to push back on Quinn that shehas no idea what she’s talking about, that she can’t imagine what I’ve been through. But I know that she can, and then some.
“Come on, Callie, give yourself some credit. One run can turn into two and then three. All it takes is a little discipline.”
“That is so something a skinny person like you would say.”
“Where’s all this coming from anyway?” Quinn wants to know, ignoring my ill-placed jab. Her face relaxes from motivator to sympathizer.
“It’s more of a who. My doctor called me fat.”
“I’m pretty sure they’re not allowed to say that anymore.”
“Well, she didn’t come right out and say it, but she managed to mention everything else that is wrong with me with the unspoken headline being I might die next week if I don’t drop some pounds and get my cholesterol, blood sugar, and sodium levels under control.”
“You can’t die, because I set up sort of an interview-ish-type thing for you in a few weeks.”
“What is a ‘sort of interview-ish-type thing,’ and who would possibly want to meet with me? Studies show no one hires older women.”
“So youhavebeen reading the news!” Quinn teases.
“Quinn, what have you set me up for?” I demand with narrowed eyes but a flittering of curiosity in my belly that I can’t ignore. Or maybe I’m hungry. One hour and twelve minutes until I can eat.
“Relax, Doomsday Debbie. It’s only a Zoom. A casual conversation, but you do need to shower.”
