Chapter Three: Sandy, The Woman With the Auburn Locks

“I mean I’ve told her she really needs to get that weight off; it’s so important…”

I nod back at Vicky.  I feel sorry for her.  She’s so obsessed with how she looks and how others look.  I wonder if it comes from the men she picks or is it just her?  I wonder if her mother or father talked about how she looked all the time when she was growing up?  Poor thing.  I don’t think she’ll even step out of her house without makeup.  I know she thinks she’s really helping other people.

“…so finally she did ask me what I would charge to train her and be her health coach and I told her I’m not answering that until you commit to at least a six-month plan!”

“I know you are trying to help her – but do you think that may be a little too strong? I mean she just had a baby and she has a lot going on between figuring out child care, going back to work and everything.  It took me over a year to lose my weight after having a baby and I never went back to my original size.  But it was worth it, you know?”  I smile back at her gently, hoping she’ll hear me.

“I really disagree with you Sandy.  I know I haven’t had a kid but it’s just like when you put on some weight because you ate too much for a month  or something – it’s easier to get it off right away instead of dragging it out.  And sometimes, people just can’t motivate unless you tell them exactly what to do.  There was this other woman who I met once who…”

I sigh back at her and just let her talk.  Why did I say that? Now she’s getting even louder!  There’s no arguing that she’s built a pretty good business for herself as a personal trainer.  But there’s obsessed and then there’s being healthy and well-balanced.  This is why I stopped hanging out with you Vicky;  you are just too much.  I can tell tell you’re annoying that woman in the next booth by her look.

Why are your eyebrows are plucked so severely now, so thin?  It makes your forehead look so  vast and empty.  There is so much character in the other parts of your face – a soft facial hair, a sun spot, the precursor of a wrinkle, a blemish…but your forehead seems to sit motionless as one expansive piece of your face.  I never noticed that before.

If only you could hear yourself.  If only  you could see how much more you’d help people if you weren’t bullying them all the time.  If only…oh there’s our waitress!  I’ll wave to her.  I need to get myself to the grocery store.

“Excuse me?  Miss?  May I get our check please?”

Coming next: Chapter Four: Holly, The Waitress

(Short Story: Thoughts and Conversations in a Diner)

Tags: short story