Caught Cheating

Dearest Rachel –

For all that Lars is a doctor, as well as a friend I walk with on a regular basis (although not as regular of late, since this past week held various scheduling conflicts between the two of us, and the week before saw me in Honduras, where I had… other issues with walking), I don’t go so far as to consider him my doctor, as such. If nothing else, he’s effectively retired from practice, much like myself. That having been said, you can take the doctor out of his practice, but you can’t take the practice out of the doctor. He will still ask me about my weight nearly every time we meet, despite the fact that I’m not trying nearly so hard to lose weight as I used to (I mean, I still have the spare tire – although it’s more like a bicycle tire than a Michelin radial – and it’s not attracting ‘Megumi’s’ attention, so why beat myself up about it?).

Fortunately, yesterday morning, I’d had better news to report than I’ve had since returning from Alaska; that morning was the closest I’d been to my license weight without the added push of having hit the gym. Still above that benchmark, to be sure (whereas after a workout, I’m almost guaranteed to be below it – although in fairness, that’s mostly due to sweating out water weight), but not by as much as I’ve been, and less than the last time we’d met to walk together. Which is nice because, while I’m not beholden to him, I don’t like to disappoint him, either.

You may want to put a pin in that last statement for later, though.

In any event, after some three weeks since our last time getting together, it was as if nothing had happened in the interim; the hours spent were every bit as comfortable as they’ve always been. Granted, the amount of time spent apart meant that we had a few more stories to catch up on that happened to us personally and within the wider world that needed comment (it’s one of the things I miss about your absence, as well as Dad’s; how would you be reacting to this or that news item? Not that any of it matters on an eternal scale, but in the moment, it would be nice to know, and whether it would change you or not), which meant that the lapses into companionable silence were fewer and shorter, but that’s not something either of us finds particularly objectionable.

It kept us busy enough, in fact, to take us all the way up from just north of Golf Road to the southern edge of what you’d recognize as Palatine (although that far east, it’s renamed as Willow Road) and back; a little over eight miles, done in roughly three hours, and plenty of topics to touch on in the meantime. None of which is a new feature of our route – although I still recall a few years ago, when I only had the energy to get as far as Happ Road within sight of New Trier High School before turning back – but again, after the last couple of weeks of doing only so much at any given time, this is quite a stretch of one’s legs.

Of course, as is customary for our walks, we will finish the day up with a meal at one or another local restaurant, depending on the day and our mood. He tends to favor this one place that has patio seating outdoors, and on a day like yesterday, with clouds parting throughout our trek to the point of solid blue, I can’t argue with him about such an atmosphere.

While he enjoys their selection of various imported drafts (he’s mentioned that American breweries will add corn syrup to their offerings to cut the bitterness, resulting in a beverage that one accustomed to European tradition will understandably turn their nose up at), I stick with my usual iced tea. And despite the fact that the place is famous for their fried onions, served in a brick form (believe me, it’s much better than it sounds), I don’t dare order it when we’re together. He knows the weight loss journey I’m on, and knows that much better than I do what I should and shouldn’t be eating, but even I know that this isn’t something I ought to indulge in, especially with him there serving as a sort of conscience.

The same thing goes for desserts; the place isn’t quite as famous for those as their onion brick, but I saw more than I’d like to of the waitstaff carrying about huge slices of what they refer to as Leprechaun Pie. And for the record, I’m pretty sure it’s not made of real leprechauns, although if it were, the sheer number of them being brought out to various tables might account for why I’ve never seen an actual live leprechaun about in these parts. Thick, minty green slices of whipped cream and chocolate-covered pie… if it didn’t look so intimidatingly large – and again, Lars wasn’t around – I would have been sorely tempted to order my own.

Once we bid each other a good day, wishing each other well, and sending our regards to the others’ families, I got in the car and thought about it. It wouldn’t be anywhere near on the same level, but I didn’t need anything as heavy as all that. I could even ask Daniel if he wanted something, making him an accomplice by bribing him with a similar treat (not that he needs to watch his weight; quite the contrary, in fact).

So I texted him, in three separate messages, since he’s proven not to always respond to the first (or even second) text:

That’s right; for all the times I’d considered picking something like this up for myself (and Daniel) on my way home from a walk, the first time I actually try to do so, I immediately outed myself to the very person I didn’t really want to let know about my plans. I don’t have to tell you how embarrassed I was about it.

So there you go, honey; proof positive that I can’t sneak around on my diet without getting caught cheating. We always used to joke about what a terrible liar Daniel was (and still is), to his credit; it would seem that he comes by his honesty honestly, as if it were genetic, because I can’t lie or cheat effectively, either. But you probably already knew that (or at least believed it).

Anyway, with that being said, while you don’t need to keep an eye on me to keep me on the straight and narrow, I wouldn’t mind if you kept one on me regardless. And I could still use all the well-wishes you could give.