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Note: These events took place in 2002, before we moved to Florida.
Before I begin my tirade, let me say this: I am NOT making this up. I'm still sitting here at my computer feeling like I've entered (and hopefully exited!) a really bad episode of the TWILIGHT ZONE or something. It's just TOO weird.
This morning was pretty routine: I drove my husband to the train for work, I did some chores around here; fed the cat, washed, dried and folded two loads of laundry and had a bowl of Shredded Wheat for breakfast. Then I showered and put on one of my new smaller-sized sundresses. Bright. Light. Pretty. Matching sandals even. I felt good. Heckll I felt GREAT! I've managed to lose 48 pounds. And although I'm far from bathing suit ready - I'm happy. Even today's weather was great by New Jersey standards. Almost balmy.
I head outside into the nice warm and sunny weather (for a change!) and wave at my little Old Italian neighbor directly across the street. He speaks almost zero English. I speak absolutely zero Italian. Unless, of course, if you consider "Pizza" or "Lasagna" Italian words.
IN ANY CASE, our 'relationship' or whatever you want to call it, consists mostly of waves and light conversation on my part and his part consists mostly of extremely dramatic arm/body motions, punctuated by waving his ever-present tool of the season (i.e., scissors/shears in warm weather, snow shovel or broom in cold weather) as part of our almost daily charade-like exchanges. Today it went something like this:
ME: Hi! Isn't it nice out today? First day I didn't need a jacket!
HIM: Hey! You look-a good! You loosa weight, no? (He gestures a big Santa Claus belly out in front of him using his big rusty ole Edward Scissorhands shears in one hand, and the other hand was covered by a beaten old canvas gardening glove with more holes in it than Swiss Cheese.)
ME: (Smiles sweetly) Yes, I've been trying.
HIM: You look-a big before! Biiiiig!! Momma Mia! (he slaps his gloved hand to the side of his cheek and rolls his eyes up at the sky. At that point, I almost wished he had used the other hand that held the shears…)
ME: Well, I feel good. Still more to lose, but I feel good.
HIM: (nodding) Good. Good. Now you look-a good. Nice. Nice. Nice little. Little Head!
ME: (instant red face!) Little HEAD?
HIM: Yeah, yeah. Nice-a girl. (motions with both hands, the silhouette of a woman, then motions with his Scissorhands to my head, as if to point) Nice-a girl. Little head! Look-a good! (smiles broadly)
Then I had a one second-long Ally McBeal-esque vignette play out in my minds eye. Something like: I'm holding his scrawny black-socked ankles in my mighty fists, and I bash his head into his neatly trimmed lawn until just the ends of his legs stick out of the clover and grass like some bizarre looking bush.
ME: Um … thanks. (even redder face) Well! I have to go to the Post Office. Have a nice day! Bye!
HIM: Ciao! (waves his Scissorhands at me)
(Exit/stage right into my vehicle)
I get into my car, take my driving glasses down from the little fold down storage thingie above the rear view mirror, and for a split second, I was almost afraid my glasses would simply slide down over my ears, and off of the tip of my nose and land on my lap, as if my head did indeed SHRINK.
I whine incessantly to my ever-suffering husband Joey, about the comments made to me from various people in my life, regarding my constant weight losses and gains. (mostly gains.) But having someone comment on the size of my HEAD was a new one!! I've heard of people having BIG heads, but LITTLE ones? Absurd. Should I have joined a shrunken head society instead of counting calories?
So, with glasses firmly in place, I set off for the local Post Office with the window down and the wind in my hair. Life is good. :)
The reason I pick my mail up at my Post Office Box each day is because my Mailperson delivers mail like Helen Keller would pilot an airplane. POORLY.
Everyone on the block knows who subscribes to which magazines or to TV Guide and who uses which kinds of credit cards, etc., as we've all had to redeliver mail to every single one of our neighbors at one time or another in the recent past. This means one of two things:
(1) Our Mailperson cannot READ, or
(2) Our Mailperson just loves to tick everyone on this route off. I, personally, vote for the latter.
In any case, with the 'little head' comment nearly forgotten, I arrive at the Post Office. I get my mail from my box, and then I walk around to the counter to say hi to the two clerks that work there, Nancy and Rhonda.
ME: Hi!
Nancy: Isn't it gorgeous outside? The sky is blue for a change! I'm sick of all that rain and cold!
ME: Me too! It's so nice out!
Rhonda: This is the first time you're not all bundled up in your jacket, Barb! You've been busy this winter! I see you've lost a lot of weight!
ME: (blushing) Well, I've been trying.
Nancy: Yeah! I told Rhonda the other day I noticed you were losing. I noticed right away (gestures to her own neck and shoulders) in here, and in your face.
Rhonda: You look great! How are you doing it?
ME: Counting Calories, believe it or not!
Rhonda: Good! At least you are not doing one of those fad diets on TV.
ME: No, I’ve been there and done that. This is healthier. Everything you buy in the store has nutritional labels with the calorie count on them, so it is really easier than I thought it would be.
Nancy: You look good! How much did you lose? I can really see a big difference. Your head and everything looks smaller! I'm jealous.
ME: (stunned) Um, a little under 50 pounds. 48 actually.
Nancy: 60 pounds! God Bless you! But when you go off those pills, won't you gain it all back?
ME: 48 pounds. No pills. I just try to choose healthier foods at the store, and I pay a lot of attention to the nutritional labels. (Do I sound like an infomercial now or what?)
Rhonda: Yeah, that Eff-edd-dray (Ephedra) stuff is dangerous. I hear they're taking it off the market. Remember all those people who got heart damage from that other diet stuff like that? Phenolbarbituates or something. They made millions I bet in lawsuits. But what good is it if you're dead? You can't spend it if you're dead.
Nancy: 70 pounds! God Bless you! I wish I could lose, but I can't go to those meetings.
ME: 48 pounds! No meetings! It could not be easier! I just count the calories on the labels of the food I eat each day, and drink lots of water! (I couldn't believe it! Suddenly I'm talking to two complete idiots! They're not normally this scary. Is it ME?? Who spiked my Orange Juice?)
Rhonda: I can't do those pills. I get all hyper and shaky and stuff. I know somebody that had that gas bypass thing done.
Nancy: 80 pounds! How long did it take you to lose all that weight? You won't gain it all back, right? That's not good for your heart to lose and gain like that. I noticed it right away! Especially here (motions to her chest and neck again and then to her own HEAD just to tick me off now, I'm thinking.)
ME: Um... I have to get going. (Thankful another customer just walked into the lobby) See you tomorrow! Take care! (QUICK wave and an exit, stage left)
I couldn't believe my EARS! Another little HEAD comment (and several gestures!) in a matter of minutes!! Was I losing my mind or was this just one of those PUNK’D scenes?? Where's Ashton Kutcher??
I get home, half amused, half concerned. I mean come ON. I've just lost nearly 50 pounds. One of my nephews WEIGHS 50 pounds for crying out loud! I KNOW I've changed. I'm different now. And I know for a FACT I didn't have a 50-pound HEAD on my shoulders when I started this diet. A 50-pound BUTT - maybe. But HEAD??
I picked up the phone and called my Husband on his cell.
ME: Hi it's me.
JOEY: (lots of noise in the background) Hey! I was just thinking about you.
ME: Yeah? Just don't tell me I have a golf ball sized head!
JOEY: (lots of noise in the background; even louder) Our gopher is dead? What gopher? What are you talking about?
ME: Not GOPHER! Golf ball!
JOEY: (lots of noise and now static thrown in for good measure) Golf ball? You don't play golf!
ME: (getting annoyed) Where ARE you? It's noisy there! I can barely hear you!
JOEY: (static and now cutting out portions of words) I'm at XDROPRSPFZ.
ME: Where?
JOEY: (static and more noise) XDROPRSPFZ!!
ME: I'll call you later. I can't hear a thing you're saying.
JOEY: SNIGLKDORKF (then he cuts out completely)
So much for modern technology. Then I pick up the digital camera and stand in front of my mirror; take a picture of myself and emailed it to my sister Dar. I called her and told her to go online and tell me HONESTLY what she thought of my weight loss and how I looked today. She and I then met online a minute or two later, and were 'talking' via Instant Messages on our computers.
DAR: Wow! You've lost even more weight since the last time you came to visit us!
ME: Yeah, thanks, but how do I LOOK??
DAR: You look awesome, Barb. Really. I wish I had your willpower. (Dar is in her late thirties, she's drop dead gorgeous, has three kids, and managed to keep her girlish figure. I still say she's not from the same gene pool as me. Mine needed chlorine and a mosquito net or something.)
ME: Well, what about the size of my HEAD? TWO different people commented that my head looked small today!
DAR: Your head looks small? Nah! If anything, I'd have to say your shoulders look wider.
ME: Oh great! That's just great! (...If it were possible to pace around the room throwing my hands up into the air like my Italian neighbor across the street, I was doing that while still sitting there in front of my computer monitor.) Now I feel like a Linebacker for the New Jersey GIANTS wearing a tiny PEZ sized helmet on my little golf ball sized head!
DAR: Barb, that isn't what I mean. You look great. And you have a really big heart. And that's what counts.
ME: (pause) I have a BIG heart? Hmmm … Dar, was that another insult?? *grin*
I kid you not … this all just happened to me this morning. Dar just signed offline to change a dirty diaper.
And I'm still hearing the theme to the TWILIGHT ZONE playing inside of my little golf ball sized head.
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