“She Always Seemed Like Such a Nice Person.”

I’m currently on a lifestyle change. You might call it a diet. You might call it a diet because you think a week of drinking green kale shakes and pretending you enjoy that shit while being hungry is a diet. It’s not a diet. It’s a way to make you buy kale.

I’m losing weight for the long term. Portion control, smart decisions, and drinking more water. It’s worked great so far, I’m down thirty pounds! That’s one whole trip to a chain Italian restaurant!

One of the biggest things I have done is to quit buying junk food and candy and keeping it at the house. I also don’t get any from the vending machine at work.

If I get the urge for something sweet, I go raid a co-workers candy dish. One bite size Hershey’s or Twix and I’m gold. The only thing is that it forces me to interact with people I don’t want to. Like the Cow Lady. Oh you know who Cow Lady is. That 44 year old overweight single lady with the same uninteresting haircut from 1993 and a love for knit sweaters. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that she’s a cow because she’s fat. She’s Cow Lady because everything in her office is Cow. You know, Cow Clock, Cow Post-it notes, Cow mouse pad, Cartoon Cow Calender…bonus points if it’s a Far Side calender. Cow lady! She’s the one where all the pictures of people in her office are of her standing alone in front of a really boring tourist attraction like Niagara Falls, or anyplace in Branson, Missouri that you know was taken by some other tourist who felt really shitty for her, ya know? Sometimes you’ll find a postcard lovingly set up, and it’s always one of like a drawing of a baby angel doing something cute.

I've died and gone to Hell.  And Hell is a Hallmark store.
I’ve died and gone to Hell. And Hell is a Hallmark store.

It’s awful. You’re stuck there listening to her talk about her favorite T.V. Show; something like “The New Girl,” “Downton Abbey,” “Doctor Who,” or something. Or her damn cats. Oh yeah. She’s got like four or five of them, and they all have names like “Ms. Snugglebottoms,” and “Sir Purrs-a-lot.” And you just have to sit there and take it. Just listen to her prattle on about the most god awfully boring things like her most recent trip to Wal-Mart to go get some new some new Violets because “Captain Purr-cieval,” ate the last one. You just sit there slowly chewing on that Snickers bite, hoping to catch her between breaths so you can break away.

What’s so terrible, is that you know that one day this woman is going to stop showing up for work.

She’s going to be missing for like two weeks. No one at the office really noticed, and no one really called to check on her. It’s only going to be when her neighbors call the landlord to complain about the smell and the stain on the ceiling in the kitchen that anyone finds her. They’ll find her on the floor of her kitchen where she collapsed after choking to death on a Stouffer’s Microwave Singles Lasagna for the Crushingly Lonely. The cat’s have been snacking on her calves for over a week now. No one will know who to send the flowers too, and it’ll be really awkward because someone from the office has to go to the funeral, and you can’t bullshit and say you have a meeting to go to. Besides, you always went in there to talk to her, so you knew her the best.

Now you’re stuck at an awkward funeral where you don’t know a damn person there. They’re like all old cousins and estranged brothers and stuff, and you’re stuck there trying to explain why you’re the only one from work to show up and not mention the team builder exercise scheduled for that day at Dave and Busters. They ask you how well you knew her, and all you can really think of, is that she knew you liked the Hershey’s Kisses with the Almonds in them, so that’s what she always bought. You sheepishly reply, “She was really great. She always seemed like such a nice person.”

That’s why I’m on a lifestyle change and not a diet. I’m not giving my dogs, Charles Barkley and Lt. Woof, a chance to eat me.

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