“Do you see this chart, Lynne? This is your height-weight percentile chart. And do you see where you are? You’re waaaaaay up here. Waaay past the 90th percentile. Do you see that? How would you like a shot to suck all the fat away?”
Ok. So Dr. Salvo didn’t sound quite that evil, but it’s not too far off. To this day, whenever I hear the word “percentile,” no matter the context, I cringe a little, remembering the good doctor showing me my elevated, childhood status on the red-lined chart. And why did it have to be red? As if being a chubby little kid were cause for dire emergency.
He really did ask me if I wanted a shot that would “suck all the fat away.” At the time I remember shuddering and saying no, needle-phobic as most little kids are. Then, down the road a little bit, in my pubescence, I remember regretting telling him I didn’t want the shot. What if he really did have one? What if I could have saved myself all this pain? All this praying at night that I’d wake up thin?
It has recently come to our attention that in 90 days my husband may, or may not have a job. As the House Writer, I began immediately to work on resumés, cover letters, and all manner of beguiling a lifetime of hard and varied work into an irresistible nugget of information. No spinning or glossing is necessary in this case; the man has worked hard from the time he was driving a tractor illegally through the fields of the family farm. The work, the hard, complicated part of the thing is distilling the best of him using “action verbs” (as opposed to those other, non-action verbs) and using terms and jargon expected by the business world.
I’m a looky-loo. I real estate dream shop online, a lot!!!! Late one night when my husband was safely sleeping, I forwarded a photo of a house on a lake I had found and the subject said, “Lets buy this instead of doing an addition to our house. It’s MUCH cheaper.”
Perhaps there should be a college course on Donald Trump – after all they have been lecturing on Barbie for decades! He is the last of the great Think Big, Act on Inspiration, and Let the World Know Just How Great You Are kinda guys. Like two gods in one room, the world may not be ready for too many Donald Trumps, but it is our luck that we have at least one!
Shortly after noon on Saturday, I was walking down to the car rental place on 77th Street. We were off to the country to visit some friends. I was feeling a little peckish, as the British say, so I decided to grab something quick to eat on my way. On a whim – I swear I don’t do this more than once or twice a year — I popped into McDonald’s and ordered a Quarter Pounder with Cheese to go. I unwrapped it and was happily munching away as I walked down Broadway, when I ran into a friend who also happens to be a regular follower of my blog.