Love for Scale (4 page)

“I didn’t get the donut,” Rachel declared proudly. “I can’t give up my mochaccinos.” She picked up the cup protectively, afraid if she didn’t shield it, Sheri would throw it out, or worse, give it to Sunny (he had drunk worse, Rachel was sure).

“Are you really that attached to the drink? It’s a
drink
. Not even a boozy drink. I could understand if you were an alkie and reluctant to give up booze: at least booze is medicinal. But what does a coffee do? Nothing but get you all hopped up on caffeine and you can get that from a regular cup of black coffee. Zero calories. Get rid of it.”

Rachel felt her eyes begin to fill up, not over the impending loss of her favorite beverage, but because her friend was right. She needed to regain her strength, the strength from the night before which had somehow prevailed over the donut this morning. She just hadn’t considered the beverage; who thinks about the calories you
drink
? She needed help. Serious help. Something beyond Sheri’s halfhearted lectures.

“Maybe I should go to Jenny Craig or Weight Watchers or something. I don’t know if I can do this on my own.” She put the paper cup down; she suddenly didn’t want her beloved mochaccino anymore.

Sheri groaned. “Ugh, my mom did Weight Watchers. I don’t want to go to meetings.”

“I think maybe I need more than just
watching my diet
. I think I’m a terminal case.”

“You’re strong, Rach, you could do it on your own. Go away, Sunny.” With one hand, Sheri lifted up the curious dog and placed him on the floor.

Rachel had serious doubts. She was a closet eater and a binger, not to mention her severe penchant for sitting on the couch with her hand in a bag of Doritos while watching catching up on her PVRed shows. She needed reinforcements. She needed to be able to resist the two a.m. skulk to the kitchen for whatever
nosh
she could find. Pearl would be no help: she was the one always feeding her. Food equals love in the Pearl Stern rulebook of life. Though, if that was the case, Pearl Stern was loving her daughter to death.

“I really don’t think I can do it on my own.” Sunny jumped up beside Rachel, looking for his own brand of love: pat on the head, belly rub. Rachel obliged, rubbing the creamy belly until the dog’s eyes were almost closed. It was therapeutic. Maybe she should get a dog; it would give her something to take her mind off the food and be preferable to taking up smoking.

Sheri took the last swig of her coffee and tossed the empty cup into the kitchen sink a good ten feet away. Over the eight years she’d lived in the apartment, she’d had a lot of practice. “Well I’m here for you, I really am, but I can’t afford to go to a Weight Watchers meeting when I only have to lose ten pounds.”

Do not cry
, Rachel told herself, refusing to lose it in front of her friend. Sure, she’d done it a million times before but somehow, this time was different. She was tired of being the weak one, the one who needed a hug, the support.

She patted Sunny’s belly one last time and stood up. “I’ve gotta go.”

Sheri glanced at the clock on the wall. “You just got here. Where are you going?”

“I’m going to go join Weight Watchers. I’ve got to Sheri. I need to do something. I refuse to be fat and alone. I guess I can’t do much about the alone part right now, but I’m in charge of the fat.”

Sheri looked at Rachel and smiled. She got up off the couch and wrapped her arms around her friend. “I’m here for you, you know that. Day or night and especially when your mom cooks those crazy Jewish meals. You hear me? Day or night.”

The tears came, for both of them, for all the years they’d spent together and for all the things they’d shared. Sunny barked, demanding to be part of whatever it was that he was missing. Sheri laughed and picked him up, holding him in her arms the way a new mother holds her precious baby, which was strikingly similar to how Rachel herself had held a turkey when she was commissioned to get the bird out of the freezer to thaw for Passover dinner.

Sheri nuzzled the dog’s face with her own. “You’re still my number one guy. Although it’s a good thing you’re so small and don’t mind sharing the bed with my new number two guy.” She winked at Rachel.

“I gotta go,” Rachel reiterated, trying to smile.

“Let me know how it goes,” Sheri said. “I’m in noon ‘till nine tonight, but I’m coming right home: Brian’s cooking me a late dinner.”

“I’ll call you.” Rachel turned to leave.

“Good luck.”

“Yeah, thanks.”
I’m going to need it, that and a big lock to put on the fridge
, Rachel thought.

Chapter 5

In the short drive from Sheri’s apartment building to the strip mall containing the Weight Watchers’ storefront, Rachel lost every ounce of her motivation. Worse than that, she lost all her nerve. She had been stoked and ready to go join a Weight Watchers meeting, had abandoned her mochaccino and had stormed out of Sheri’s apartment, full of piss and vinegar (one of her father’s favorite sayings). But now that she stood two feet away from the door, reading the logo and hours of operation over and over, she was so scared that she wasn’t sure her legs would take her inside.

“’Scuse me, you going in?” a voice came from over her left shoulder, startling her.

“Oh!” Rachel turned and looked at the woman who was trying to get past her to the door. “Uh, no, you go ahead.” She stepped back, giving the woman space to get past her and open the door.

The woman smiled at Rachel as she reached for the handle. “You know,” she said. “The first time’s the worst. Once you go in, I promise it gets better.”

“Oh, no. I was just waiting for someone.” Rachel lied
. Look at me. As if I could be here by accident.

The woman looked at her the same way her mother did when Rachel had come out of the change room last spring vowing to never put on a bathing suit again.
Who are you kidding?
The look said.

That did it.

“Maybe I’ll wait for my friend inside.” Rachel followed the woman in, trying to look inconspicuous.

She looked around at the dozen or so women standing in line, many in pairs, chatting and laughing. Most of the women were like her: overweight. One lady was even bigger than Rachel, way bigger. But a few of average size (oh God, to ever be
average
) dotted the line, serving as wordless success stories for the rest.

For the first time in her life, Rachel felt that maybe she belonged. Not in the way you belong when you get chosen first for a team in gym or were voted most popular; not that she knew how that would feel. But belonging in the way where you’re all in the same boat, even if it is one that’s sinking fast from all the excess weight.

From nowhere, a smiling sylph who seemed to have no business being at a Weight Watchers meeting glided up to Rachel. “Can I help you?”

Rachel forced a smile. “Uh, I’m new.” She shrugged, hoping her admission would be enough encouragement for the waif to take charge.

Apparently it was, judging by the knowing smile from the sylph. “Welcome. Come with me.” She took Rachel gently by the arm and led her into a discreet office, closing the door behind her. She motioned for Rachel to sit in the wooden chair, taking her own seat on the other side of the desk. “You’ve never been to Weight Watchers before?”

Biting her lip, Rachel shook her head, hoping all the questions would be this easy. Not likely.

After twenty-five minutes of probing behavioral questions, tears, filling out health questionnaires and medical waiver forms,
more
tears, and finally instruction on the Weight Watchers program, Rachel finally understood why she had been dragged into a private office to sign up. And even though she took off every piece of clothing she could without fear of being accused of public indecency, the number on the scale was still jarring: two hundred and forty-two pounds.  That had been the source of most of the tears. Rachel hadn’t weighed herself in at least two years; even at the doctor when she would go for her yearly, she would make the nurse write down the number while she looked away. Denial had been her friend, same as her elastic band pants.

Two hundred and forty-two pounds could no longer be denied. Now that she could slap a number on her weight, Rachel felt even bigger than when she had arrived.

One good thing, though: by the time she emerged from the office, lighter only in the wallet, the meeting was over and she didn’t have to suffer that indignity too. Nothing worse than being the newbie. She smiled and thanked the woman, who she learned was named Fay, and tucked the menus, journal and booklets under her arm as she headed for the door.

“Don’t forget Rachel, if you bite it, you must write it.”

Rachel smiled at the woman, trying to picture Fay, the stick, eighty-nine pounds heavier: the weight she had been when she had joined Weight Watchers four years ago. Rachel couldn’t reconcile the woman in front of her with what she’d told her was her own story. Still, she’d seen the pictures so knew it had to be true. Maybe it could be true for her too. Maybe she really could lose a hundred pounds.

She looked down at her watch and realized she was going to be late for work if she didn’t get a move on. Taking a deep breath, she left the store, hopeful but scared to death.

Chapter 6

By the time Rachel got home from work, her mother had already cooked dinner and it sat ready on the table, steam rising from the huge mound of food on her plate. Usually, it was comforting to come home and have dinner waiting; Rachel could certainly understand why her Dad always expected it. Pearl had only ever worked part time outside the home and always took great pride in having home-cooked meals on the table almost every night. Except on the Sabbath; on Fridays the family usually went out for Chinese food. A Stern family tradition.

“Hi dear.” Pearl said without looking up from her task. She was divvying peas out to each of the three plates. Peas were the expected accompaniment to brisket roast and mashed potatoes. She turned her head and hollered, “Harry, dinner’s ready.”

Rachel threw a quick greeting at her mother on her way past the kitchen to her bedroom. She threw her purse onto the bed and closed the door so she could change out of her work clothes. She glanced at the answering machine. No messages. Looking over at her computer, she wondered if maybe there was an e-mail from the speed dating people, informing her of a match. Determined not to check until after dinner, she shimmied out of her slacks and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and sat down on the bed. She pulled all the Weight Watchers literature out of her purse and spread it out on the bed.

“C’mon Rachel, your dinner’s getting cold.” Her mother’s voice carried on a zephyr of roast beef and potato aroma drifted into her room.

“Right there, Ma.” Rachel took another look at the pamphlets and picked them up to put in her drawer, out of sight. Reconsidering, she took a deep breath and headed toward the kitchen, booklets clutched tightly in her hand.

Her father was already seated with his napkin unfolded neatly in his lap, but as manners dictated, wouldn’t lift his fork until both his wife and daughter were seated at the table.

Rachel sat, placing the booklets beside her plate and unfolded her napkin. “Thanks for dinner, Ma. It looks great.”

“What do you have there, honey?” Pearl asked, craning her neck as she shoved her fork into her potatoes.

Smiling, Rachel lifted her Weight Watchers ‘welcome’ booklet and showed it to her parents, trying to ignore her pounding heart. “I joined Weight Watchers today.”

Pearl stared at her daughter, her lips parted as though she had something to say, but no sound came out. By the look on her face, Rachel may as well have told her mother she was pregnant with Rabbi Rosen’s love child.

“That’s great, honey,” Harry said, filling the silence. He put a piece of meat in his mouth but nodded, continuing his endorsement.

“Thanks, Dad.” Rachel smiled; she could count on her Dad to always be her champion. “What do you think, Ma?”

“What do you need to go and do that for?” Pearl shook her head, her displeasure as thick as the gravy covering the slabs of beef on her plate.

Incredulous, Rachel snorted. “Are you serious?”

Pearl’s head continued to twitch. “You’re fine the way you are.”

“Leave her alone, Pearl. If she wants to do this, I think we should support her.” Harry turned his head back to Rachel, “I think that’s great. I’m proud of you, honey, it’s a big step.”

Pearl threw her fork down and glared at her husband. “You don’t think I’m being supportive? I’m telling her that she is just fine the way she is and
I’m
not being supportive?”

Rachel had never seen her mother act so irrationally before. And the outburst against her father was uncalled for. Maybe Pearl was having a hot flash or something, but Rachel wouldn’t sit back and watch her dad get attacked when he had just been supporting her. “What’s wrong, Ma? I just want to lose some weight. You told me to go out and do new things. Well, I’m doing something new. I don’t see why you could possibly be against me losing weight.”

Pearl looked the way she had when Rachel’s brother Jeff had announced he was moving to Seattle. “I’m not against you losing weight. I just think you’re fine the way you are.”

Rachel was completely blindsided. She had expected hugs and good cheer when she announced her new commitment to her weight loss. She never could have predicted her mother’s erratic response. Her throat threatened to close up around her words, so she spit them out as fast as she could. “Well,
I
don’t think I’m fine the way I am. I need to lose weight.” She got up, throwing her napkin down, wishing it was something heavy so it would slam satisfyingly onto the table. She collected her brochures before she looked up at her father. “Sorry Dad,” she said before she left the room. Her father had always abhorred dinner table drama, but Rachel couldn’t be held responsible for her mother’s ridiculous behavior.

“What is wrong with you?” she heard her father say. She shut it out, walking faster to her room, not wanting to be a part of their discussion anymore.