Part III: What Happens a Cappella? The BIG Diet: Week #7 (Chapter 63)
I’m so embarrassed.
I really, really hate
these shakes; I’d just as soon give up eating, starve to death, if only I
didn’t have to drink another one of those ghastly things.
The thought of that cold
slippery stuff sliding down my throat...
Yesterday I skipped one.
Bad move.
Later, I passed out in class.
One minute, I’m lecturing on Fritz Perls and the “Here and Now,” and the next
thing I know, my head feels woozy and legs like rubber.
I just folded up and dropped to
the floor, sick to my stomach and all sweaty.
Fortunately, I didn’t lose
consciousness; someone would have called an ambulance.
My life would have been ruined –
no more diet, no more Brian.
Nicole and my promise to her.
Instead, I asked a student to
call Shel; I lay on the floor until he came.
I needed to drink a shake and pop
a potassium pill – no need for my students to know about my diet.
I don’t know why I should care
what they think, but I do.
“Not one ounce of common
sense,” Shel mumbled as he helped me to the faculty lounge. He mixed a
chocolate shake with an orange diet soda. He shoved it under my nose.
Totally gross.
“I don’t want it,” I said. “I
feel sick.”
“Well, then,” he said, reaching
for the phone, “Guess I’ll have to call for the meat wagon.”
I grabbed the shake from him
and drank it in one swallow. It was all I could muster not to puke it up.
“There! Happy now?”
He rolled his eyes.
The lecture: Shel can’t
understand why I can’t relate to food in a normal way, why I’m drinking shakes to
lose weight, why I can’t stop eating when I’m full.
I don’t understand why either.
How do I explain to him that something – God only knows what – went haywire in
my body? That some time in my past, I lost the ability to control what goes
into my mouth; I must go cold turkey when I diet – otherwise, I cheat.
Next week, I’ll talk to Brian.
He’ll understand.