chapter 5: at work the following week

"I don't know what's wrong with me, I'm hungry all the time lately..."

Jeanie nods, sympathetically, across the table at the chain restaurant where we're spending our lunch break from work, as I grab another fistful of fries and stuff them into my mouth. I know I can trust Jeanie not to be judgmental, we've worked together years and she's always been one of my favorite people there, one of the few I actually bother to spend time with outside work, and through it all she's never judged, whatever I've got going on in my life I've known I could bring it to her and not have to worry.

Plus, if I have to be honest, I don't have to worry because she was at the same parties, over the holidays, as me, eating the same baking, drinking the same eggnog. I would never tell her to her face that I'd been noticing the size her ass has gotten, or the muffin top over the waistband of her skirt, or how as she sits across from me even now she has her shirt un-tucked to cover the fact that the button on her waistband is undone, because I'm a good friend, but I've noticed. That's why I thought to bring the matter to her. She's in the same boat and might have some idea what I ought to do.

"Well..." she says, after a long pause and a discrete sip of her coffee, "I mean, after the December we had, it's gotta be tough to get your diet back to where it was. Five Christmas parties in a week was challenging..."

I laugh, because challenging is the least of it. I don't remember every part of that particular week in December, and I'm sure the quality of my work went to hell, but I'll admit, from what I did remember I had a blast. A week of nonstop cookies and baking and eggnog and beer, as coworker after coworker refused to give up the idea of hosting THEIR Christmas party, and the rest of the office was dragged along for the ride. I remember playing a strange drinking game with Jeff on the patio behind his suburban home, and jumping into Linda's indoor pool with my clothes still on, I remember Kyle setting his kitchen on fire as the roast he'd spent a week bragging about crashed and quite literally burned, and laying on my back, with Jeanie, staring at the stars long after everyone else had either gone home or gone to sleep, not speaking, not needing to, because everything was understood.

I remember a single, shared kiss, that neither one of us has said a word about since.

"I know," I tell my friend, "I know, but, I mean, I feel like it's getting worse. I was pretty decent about following my diet back in January, but as time's gone by it's gotten harder and harder to resist eating everything in front of me, you know?"

Jeanie's laugh is loud enough that the whole restaurant stops what they're doing to offer us a curious glance, and when she's done she wipes her eyes.

"Welcome to every New Year's diet in the history of humankind," she tells me, shaking her head, still smiling, "they're all easy in January, and they all fall apart. It sounds to me like you just ran into a wall, it's perfectly understandable, you just gotta get your act together and recommit to it. If your workouts have fallen off, pick them back up. You know you CAN do this, because when you started you did do it, so do it. You're over-thinking things, Brian, it's not some weird thing wrong with you, it's just that diets suck, and workouts suck, and you don't want to anymore, and if that's something you're fine with that's fine, stay at your current size, it's not like a bit of dad bod ever hurt anybody, if anything it's cute on you. But if you want to get back to last year's weight, there's no magic bullet. You just have to keep at it. I'm dashing to the little girls' room, though; can you call for our tabs while I'm away? We really ought to be getting back."

She hefts herself up from the table and makes her way back through the restaurant to the washrooms, and as she does I do my best not to stare at how much her behind has widened. I mean, it works on her, she looks great, or would in a skirt that actually fit, but still, it's wrong of me to stare. At some point we have to talk about that one night after that one party, but this is neither the time nor the place...

"Excuse me, sir?" The waiter pops by the table while she's away, "May I tempt either you or the lady with a slice of our world famous cheesecake?"

And, in spite of myself, my stomach growls...

"Jesus Christ, Brian!" Jeanie is laughing again as she returns to find two slices of cheesecake have joined our table, "I honestly can't leave you alone for two minutes, can I?"

I just stare at the deserts I've ordered, beet red, fork in hand.

"I..." I stammer, "I just..."

"Oh calm down," she tells me, easing herself back into the booth we've been sharing, "I'm just riding you, cheesecake is delicious and frankly, it's not like my own New Year's diet has gone any better than yours. Let's treat ourselves, you've already ordered them after all, there's no point letting them go to waste..."

And we don't. We eat every bite, and it IS delicious. I always forget how much I like cheesecake when I'm not having it, and while I probably shouldn't make a mental note to eat more cheesecake going forward, I do file the piece of information away for future use.

"Did you get the tab while you were ordering dessert?" Jeanie asks, and I just shrug.

"I covered it, don't worry about it, lunch is on me."

"Oh! You didn't need to do that."

"Yeah, I know, that's what makes me so great."

And this time her laugh has no trace of mockery in it, and I'm grateful, for the friendship and the meal we've shared, and just for the pleasure of her company.

"Well thank you," she tells me, "remind me to invite you out to lunch in the very near future."

"Oh, trust me," I smile back at her, "I'll absolutely insist on it."

And we laugh together, as the last of the cake goes into our mouths, enjoying good food, and laughter, and friendship, and in that moment everything I've been worrying about feels a million miles away and completely irrelevant to this on, perfect moment.

But that moment passes, as all moments must, and eventually Jeanie brings us back to the matter we'd gone to lunch to discuss in the first place.

"Look," she tells me, "If you need somebody to keep you on track, I could come by one or two days a week to work out with you. I know it's sometimes easier when there's somebody to hit the gym with, do you think that might help?"

And for a moment I panic, as I realize I haven't told her a thing about Paul, and his tendency to work out nearly undressed, and the effect he has on me, which I don't even completely understand myself and absolutely can't put into words to share yet. But it's only for a moment, because I know it's fine, it'll be fine. She'll go with me, to work out, and she'll meet Paul, and they'll get on fine, because Paul's a good guy, and I know I can trust him...

Trust him...

"You know what?" I tell her, "I think I'd like that. Having someone to share this with might make things a little easier."

I smile at her, and she smiles back, and by the time we leave the restaurant together, to head back to work, we've made plans for her to come over and work out with me in two weeks...