She knew Brenda needed a boost in the self-esteem department, so she supposed a diet that worked couldn't hurt. Just so long as she doesn't get too carried away with it, Jilly thought as she continued on home.
13
Even I'm getting tired of my bitchiness. I can't believe the way I jumped on Jilly this morning. Okay, I know why. I was not having a good morning. The ghosts kept me up all night, going through my head even when I wasn't asleep. By the time I ran into Jilly, I was feeling irritable and running late, and I didn't want to hear what she had to say.
Thinking it over, none of that seems like much of an excuse. It's just that, even though I knew she was just trying to be nice, I couldn't help feeling this rage toward her for being so two-faced. You'd think a friend would at least be honest right from the start.
Yes, Brenda, you are starting to seriously blimp on us. Do everybody a favor and lose some weight, would you?
Except nobody was going to say something like that to a friend. I wouldn't even say it to an enemy. It's bad enough when you've got to haul that fat body around with you, never mind having somebody rub your face in the fact of its existence.
I think the best thing I could do right now is just to avoid everybody I know so that I'll have some friends to come back to if I ever make it through this period of my life.
I wonder how long I can put Jim off. He called me three times this past weekend. I played sick on Friday and Saturday. When he called on Sunday, I told him I was going out of town. Maybe I really should go out of town except I can't afford to travel. I don't even have transit fare this week. Too bad the paper won't pay my parking the way it does Rob's. Of course, I'm not the editor.
When it comes right down to it, I don't even know why I'm working at a newspaper— even a weekly entertainment rag like In the City. How did I get here?
I was going to be a serious writer like Christy, but somehow I got sidetracked into journalism— because it offered the safety of a regular paycheck, I suppose. I'm still not sure how I ended up as an advertising manager. I don't even write anymore— except for memos.
The girl I was in college wouldn't even recognize me now.
14
Jim looked up to find Scotty approaching his desk. Scotty sat down on a corner and started to play with Jim's crystal hall paperweight, tossing it from hand to hand.
"So," Scotty said. "How goes the romance?"
Jim grabbed the paperweight and replaced it on his desk. "One of these days you're going to break that," he said.
"Yeah, right. It wasn't me that missed the pop fly at the last game."
"Wasn't me who struck out."
"Ouch. I guess I deserved that." Scotty started to reach for the paperweight again, then settled for a ballpoint pen instead. He flipped it into the air, caught it again. "But seriously," he went on. "Was Brenda feeling better on Sunday?"
Jim nodded. "Except she said she's going to be out of town for a few weeks. She had to pack, so we couldn't get together."
"Too bad. Hey, did Roger tell you about the party he's throwing on Friday? He told me he's invited some seriously good-looking, single women."
"I think I'll pass."
Scotty raised his eyebrows. "How serious is this thing?" he asked. "She's out of town, so that means you have to stay in?"
"It's not like that."
"When do I get to meet her, anyway?"
Jim shrugged. "When she gets back, I guess."
Scotty gave him a long considering look, the pen still in his hands for a moment.
"I think you've got it bad, pal," he said finally.
"I guess I do."
"How does she feel about you?"
"I think she likes me," Jim said.
Scotty set the pen back down on Jim's desk.
"You're a lucky stiff," he said.
15
I've decided that the ghosts are simply hallucinations, brought on by my hunger. Never mind what Jilly or Christy would say. That's all that makes sense. If anything makes sense anymore.
I've been on this diet for almost four weeks now. Popcorn and lettuce, lettuce and popcorn. A muffin on Wednesday, but I won't let that happen again because I'm really losing weight and I don't want to screw anything up. From a hundred and twenty-six to a hundred and four this morning.
Once I would have been delirious with joy to weigh only a hundred and four again, but when I look in the mirror I know it's not enough. All I still see is fat. I can get rid of more. I don't have to be a cow all my life.
I still haven't had a cigarette either and it hasn't added anything to my weight. It's as bad as I thought it'd be— you never realize what a physical addiction it really is until you try to quit— but at least I'm not putting on the pounds, stuffing my face with food because I miss sticking a cigarette in my mouth.
I'm so cranky, though. I guess that's to be expected. My whole body feels weird, like it doesn't belong to me anymore. But I kind of like it. There's a down side, like my clothes don't fit right anymore, but I can deal with it. Since I can't, afford to buy new ones, I've been taking them in— skirts and jeans. My T-shirts and blouses are all getting really loose, but I don't mind. I feel so good about the way I'm starting to look now I know that I can never let myself get fat again. I'm just going to lose a few more pounds and then I'm going to go on a bit of a more normal diet. I'm sick of popcorn and lettuce.
The diet's probably making me cranky as well, but I know I'll get past it, just like I'll get past the constant need to have a cigarette. Already it's easier. Now all I've got to do is deal with the financial mess I'm in. I don't know how to handle it. I'm not spending any money at all— mine or the paper's— but I'm in deep. My phone got cut off yesterday. I just didn't have the money to pay the bill after covering my other expenses. I guess I should've told the bank manager about it when I went in for that loan, but I'd forgotten I was overdue and I don't want to go back to his office.
What I really want to do is just go away for awhile— the way I'm pretending to Jim that I have. Before my phone got cut off, I was calling him from these "hotels" I'm supposed to be staying in and we'd have nice long talks. It's the weirdest romance I've ever had. I can't wait to see his face when he finally sees the new and improved me.
But I'm not ready yet. I want to trim the last of the fat away and put the no-smoking jitters aside first. I know I can do it. I'm feeling a lot more confident about everything now. I guess it really is possible to take charge of your life and make the necessary changes so that you're happy with who you are. What I want now is some time to myself. Go away and come back as an entirely new person. Start my life over again.
Last night one of the ghosts gave me a really good idea.
16
Wendy slouched in the window seat of Jilly's studio while Jilly stood at her easel, painting. She had her notebook open on her lap, but she hadn't written a word in it. She alternated between watching Jilly work, which was fairly boring, and taking in the clutter of the studio. Paintings were piled up against one another along the walls. Everywhere she looked there were stacks of paper and reference books, jars and tins full of brushes, tubes of paint and messy palettes for all the different media Jilly worked in. The walls were hung with her own work and that of her friends.