Weight and So Forth
I
was glad when the whirring and huffing and puffing stopped. When Lapius was riding his exercycle the
whole floor shook and I couldn’t prevent the microscope from vibrating. He walked into the room
toweling sweat from his brow. His
sweatshirt had large moist blotches under the armpits.
“I’ve
lost another pound, Harry.” I wondered
how a man so versed in so many things could continually delude himself about
his weight. He walked to the kitchen
and I hear him gurgling two large glasses of water.
“Now
weigh yourself again,” I said, “and see what happened to the pound. You realize Simon that if you ate less and
walked more you would lose weight.”
“Each
to his own, Harry. I know your
theories, and perhaps there is something to them, but a man can’t cut himself
off entirely from his environment, and food is part of the environment.”
“Then
don’t complain to me all the time about your tailor bills. You’re fat Simon, and getting fatter. All you do on that bicycle is disturb the neighbors
and interfere with my work.”
“What
do you suggest?”
“How
much weight did you put on last year?”
“Two
pounds.” He looked hurt. “You don’t believe me?”
“Simon,
that two refers to inches on your waist.
You gained ten pounds.”
“How
do you know that for a certainty?”
“Because
you’re too lazy to push the balances back to zero on the scale. I’ve kept a complete book on you Simon. You started toasting the year in at 208 and
now you’re 218. And you look it. You forgot to wipe the sweat from under your
chin. Probably couldn’t find it.”
“Wait
till you’re my age Harry. You’ll see,”
he said plaintively.
“Nonsense
Simon. Every time I turn around you’re
stuffing something in your mouth.”
“I
need the fuel.”
“Ridiculous. I bet I can take half a pound off a week and
you’ll never know the difference. Just
a slight change in your living habits.”
“Impossible. I’m down to the barest minimum caloric
intake now.”
“Half
pound a week, 26 pounds a year. Give me
one week to prove it.” He looked down
at his gravid appearing belly and winced.
“All
right Harry, I’ll give you one week.”
It
was a rough week. I had him up at seven
every morning, and we walked briskly for 30 minutes and repeated the exercise
again at bedtime. I stocked the house
with shrimp and celery chunks bathed in ice water and scattered bowls of the
stuff all over the house for him to nibble on.
I served him a well balanced diet with measured amounts of food, just
slightly under the normal daily intake that I had estimated. I stuffed him with salad with
sauerkraut. He ate hamburgers without
buns, no potatoes, no pasta. He wanted
sugar in his coffee. It was okay with
me.
“It
isn’t very fattening. What do you
take? Four teaspoons a day? But who ever ate a teaspoon of potato or
spaghetti.”
He
weighed in daily, and when the week was over he had lost almost a pound.
“See,
it’s easy.” I said. “Keep this up and in one year you’ll be
under 200 lbs. And it will be painless.”
“Okay,
Harry, you’ve made your point. I
agree.”
That
night when I returned for dinner he was already at the table. A fatty rib roast fled onto his plate, and a
bowl of mashed potatoes dripping butter was at the side. I looked aghast.
“Harry,”
he consoled me. “I’m forever
grateful. You’ve shown me I can lose
weight anytime I want to. I feel free
to eat now. Sit down, there’s plenty
here for the two of us.”
I
measured his appetite by the rate at which the food disappeared, and then put
on my coat.
“Where
are you going?” he asked with a full mouth.
“Out
to eat. There isn’t enough for the two
of us.”