End in sight! Only two more weeks until I can eat again. Poached chicken breast sounds pretty good right now....I’m counting the days. I could walk on water right now.
I told Brian about the dinner party.
He said, “It’s really difficult, isn’t it?” Then he suggested our having lunch together next week, after the meeting.
Yes! Wonder what he plans to eat? He’s so cryptic, sometimes, but that’s what I love about him. And he’s such a strong, silent type.
I had a dream about raspberry torte: we had a backyard pool, filled with raspberry torte, heavy on the whipped cream.
Ah, the whipped cream....
When I wake up, I’m gnawing on the bed sheet, my pillow locked between my legs.I’m swimming through the whipped cream, breathing in its vanilla bouquet–I have no difficulty filling my lungs with the frothy substance, and I’m thinking, “Hot damn, I can swim in here forever and ever and never gain an ounce. Who ever heard of a fat lung?” I’m in about 10 different ecstasies; I suck in the raspberry and pound cake bouquet as well, and I’ve never tasted anything quite as wonderful, and I never fill up, and I still feel like a feather floating into space.
Sheldon and Mona, both naked, sleek, bronzed, and gorgeous, dive into the pool, and they’re laughing and touching each other like lovers–he runs his fingers in her Dijon mustard hair, and she rubs his flat belly, his golden hairs, and licks whipped cream from his lips. They take turns swimming between each other’s legs; now I’m really pissed off.
Someone else, a naked man, jumps into the pool, but I can’t quite see his face.
Brian, I think--he’s dark-complected like this stranger--and I assume that he will pursue the leggy Mona. How could I ever compete with the luscious Mona?
But the stranger swims over to me and takes me into his arms. “You are delicious.” He licks my lips. “Like exquisite rum pie made with real 200 proof rum.” Definitely Brian’s voice.
“But what about Mona?”
“Mona?” He spies Mona and Shel stretched out beside the pool, locked together, their legs intertwined. “Oh, her. She’s too skinny. I like women of substance.”
We swim over to the side and watch Sheldon and Mona making love, oblivious to our presence, or maybe they don’t care.
“See how their bones crash together?” Brian says. “Must be very painful.” He pulls himself up and sits on the side of the pool. He reaches for my hand and pulls me up. He kisses my forehead and touches my breast. “I could get lost inside you, Samantha.” I want him to slip inside me, lose himself in the folds of my body; waves of whipped cream crash over us...
Sheldon lay naked, flat on his back, mouth wide open, snoring.
Source: “The Big Diet,” by Jennifer Semple Siegel, Are You EVER Going to Be Thin? (and other stories), 2004.
Available on Amazon.
© Jennifer Semple Siegel, 2004. This work may not be reprinted or reposted without permission from the author.