Blubber Belly won’t wake up. She wears her blinders like a horse approaching the race gate. Her ears are plugged while her mouth is open, accepting whatever is aimed at it. There are no full length mirrors in her home and she doesn’t believe the lying ones in dressing rooms. They are like the mirrors in fun houses. We are young old friends who don’t always understand one another.
She would disown me if she ever read my thoughts when I call her ‘Blub’ for short...but she IS at least fifty pounds overweight today. Tomorrow? I punish myself constantly for nagging her yet cannot stop. Never have I been told to mind my own business. . If it comes down to that, our friendship may die. If I don’t stop doing my best to wake her from self-destruction, she will die. So far, she goes her merry way and I go my disturbing, sad way behind her.
For an exceptionally intelligent woman, a member of Mensa, Blub is a Dumb Dora. Her husband bought her a stationary bike and a treadmill, set up a cozy exercise room for them both in the club room. With much enthusiasm they worked together–for two weeks, when Blub had a morning hair appointment and skipped the Monday session. Gradually she skipped Tues. And soon hubby exercised alone.
When Blub and I meet for lunch, I avert my eyes as her order of pork ribs with fries on the side appears. A fudge brownie with whipped creams broadens her smile and her waist. I almost gag.
We are nearing, I think, the break up of our 30 year friendship. Zipping my lip is almost impossible. Her holding her tongue against my constant criticisms, suggestions has to be at the breaking point.
For her 40th birthday I gave her a one month gift certificate to Weight Change that now delivers daily calorie counted, attractive, tasty meals. Their ad guarantees that sticking to the meals and doing mild exercises daily, 15 pounds will disappear the first month. That’s doesn’t sound like a lot which just may be an incentive to Blub. She was thrilled to lose 5, five that I know, but she won’t accept, was only water, not fat. I was not fooled. Surely my friend added tidbits of all kinds to every serving.
For her 42nd birthday I sent flowers to the mortuary. Blub had a massive stroke and died within a week. No longer will she hear my pleas to take care of herself. No longer will I have my oldest and dearest friend.
Her husband continues to exercise, probably more strenuously.
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