Fat Chance

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Book: Fat Chance by Deborah Blumenthal Read Free Book Online
Authors: Deborah Blumenthal
Park reservoir. It’s something we’ve been doing for two solid weeks now. Still, sometimes she shows, sometimes she doesn’t. Often, she feigns sickness. One frosty morning I’m on the track with my face hidden behind a black nylon ski mask—one way to avoid putting on makeup.
    â€œYou look like you’re gonna hold up Citibank,” Tamara says, making my day.
    â€œThe only thing I’m trying to hold up is my behind,” I say, puffing.
    â€œAnd now there’s twenty pounds less of it,” Tamara says, slowing to a crawl and stretching her arms over her head while she gulps oxygen. “I wish I could say the same thing. I need a Wonderbra to give my saggin’ ass some lift. I ran my fastest speed into McDonald’s to get an Egg McMuffin. Another time, I ordered pizza, and then a calzone—”
    â€œOh, that warm, soft ricotta cheese, God, how I—”
    â€œMore guilt,” Tamara says, “but that’s progress, right? It means you know you shouldn’t be eating things like cheese—”
    â€œCan we talk about something other than food?”
    Â 
    To distract herself from eating, Tamara spends time in Barnes & Noble buying books and CDs. She dreams of writing a book, making a name for herself, earning more money and independence. On the weekends she’s home reading and cooking, but these days the recipes are healthy ones. Tonight, instead of the brisket with caramelized onions and roasted potatoes that she would have gone with, she’s making grilled shrimp and peppers. Her sister Flossie is coming for dinner.
    She calls me up and describes the process. “Put the shrimps in a bowl and pour a dark ginger marinade over them.”
    â€œWhat’s in the marinade?” I’m getting hungry already.
    â€œRice wine, soy sauce, minced ginger, garlic and toasted sesame oil. Next you mix the dressing—more soy sauce, vinegar, sesame oil, sugar, sake and chopped cilantro.”
    â€œThen?”
    â€œYou sauté fresh baby spinach in oil with fresh garlic, then thread the shrimp onto skewers alternating with chunks ofred, yellow and orange peppers. Broil them, then lay the skewers over the cooked spinach. Last thing you do is pour the cilantro dressing over the skewers.” I’m now considering calling the local Chinese restaurant and having them make the recipe for me.
    After Flossie tastes the shrimp, she calls me herself. “You’re definitely on to something.”
    We hang up and I can imagine how they’re dishing over my born-again makeover thanks to Michael Taylor.
    â€œWho would have guessed that rock-solid Maggie would go gaga.”
    â€œHoney, you never really know about people,” Flossie probably says. “The smart, tough-talkin’ ones are the quickest to become unhinged. There’s no connection between brains and success and how smart you love.”
    In fact, despite all her dishing, Tamara was doing a great job keeping the makeover a tight secret. To throw off people in the office, we agreed to keep a box of Oreos on the desk, and a bowl of M&M’s near her phone. I considered rubber-cementing some to the bottom of the bowl but decided against it. Someone would find out. Still, because it’s a newspaper, people get paid for following hunches, and they were suspicious about me.
    A comment or two had been made.
    â€œWhere’s Maggie hiding herself?” Wendy the Weight Watcher asked Tamara.
    My loyal assistant nipped that one in the bud. “Over at Sports Illustrated, being photographed for the swimsuit issue.”
    And Tex. Ever since I started having California rolls for dinner, our friendship seemed to have gone as limp as seaweed and rumors that came my way indicated he was wining and dining not only Sharon but other stocky blondes around town.
    Where would it all end? In my wildest dreams, could Iimagine a Hollywood hunk falling for me, especially if I

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