Free Love for Scale by Michaela Greene

and forty-two (nope: two hundred and thirty-eight) pounds.
    “There’s no such thing as low fat schmaltz,” Pearl said.
    “Ugh, schmaltz. Who needs to eat rendered chicken fat, anyway?” Rachel pretended to gag. “That stuff is heinous.”
    “Mmm, I love it.” Pearl finally smiled.
    “Gross.” Knees creaking in protest, Rachel stood up. “Please don’t beat yourself up about this, Ma. This is my thing, I’m going to do it.” She smiled.
    Pearl nodded. She threw up her arms. “I’ve got twelve people coming for dinner, oy vey , what a production.” The sword of guilt had been withdrawn from Pearl’s body and was now dangerously facing Rachel.
    “Of course, I’ll help, Ma,” Rachel said, hoping that she could find someone else to make the latkes. Not only was it tedious and messy, but potato latkes were impossible to resist.
    Pearl stood up and patted Rachel on the cheek. “You’re a good girl,” she said before she left the room, leaving Rachel to finish cleaning up the kitchen.
    Twelve people? Rachel wondered what extras Pearl had invited for Chanukah dinner. She and her parents were three, and another three for Aaron, his wife and her brother Jeff. (Of course, Pearl would have to amend her count once she found out that Lily wasn’t coming.) That made six and her Bubby Marion was seven. She shrugged, figuring the rest were friends of her parents. Pearl couldn’t resist feeding people, so if she heard of stragglers without a place to go on one of the Jewish holidays, she was always the first to extend the invitation.
    “It’s a mitzvah,” Pearl had said as she set the table for fourteen last Passover. “No good deed like feeding the needy.”
    “The Feldmans are hardly needy,” Rachel had said. “She’s an orthopedic surgeon and he’s a corporate lawyer.”
    Pearl had rubbed diligently at a spot on one of her sterling silver knives with a napkin. “They are new in town and have no family here: that makes them needy. In need of family. It’s a mitzvah, ask the rabbi.” Pearl was adamant; there was no arguing with her.
    Rachel had given in, as she always did.
     

Chapter 11
    Getting ready was the easy part. Rachel had her brand new swimsuit on underneath her sweats so it was just a matter of taking off the shirt and pants. Easy.
    Leaving the safety of the locker room and walking down the long tiled hallway to the pool and getting in the water: that was the hard part.
    Rachel had gone down to the YWCA to join and sign up for Aquafit classes, but the YW’s pool was closed for major renovations. Rachel was told by the smiling lady in the horn-rimmed glasses that the pool was not scheduled to open for at least two months. Determined to get some use out of her expensive and non-returnable bathing suit, Rachel had reluctantly joined the YMCA instead.
    Note the M, as in men .
    Terrified, she stood in the empty women’s changing room, flip flops on her feet, towel, and goggles in her hands, trying to get some nerve.
    I just have to do it ,Rachel told herself. She swallowed hard. This was worse than getting on the scale at Weight Watchers. Everyone at Weight Watchers was in the same situation; at least there she had a sense of solidarity. But at the Y she was alone, having only her colorful beach towel to comfort her.
    She glanced at the clock. Only three minutes until the class started. That got her moving: the last thing she wanted to do was walk into a class late, where everyone would stare and judge. Holding her chin up, she pulled the bathing suit down out of where it had ridden up her butt, put the lock on her locker and headed toward the pool.
    “I will do this,” she said out loud.
    The thwack thwack of her flip-flops echoed loudly as she walked down the long hallway. She took a deep breath as she arrived at the door to the pool and turned the handle. Her heart pounded as she opened the door, hit with a wall of bleachy smelling, hot, misty air from the pool. She walked onto the pool deck