Half pound a day

Anticipating a fairly relaxed but productive weekend.  Dinner with friends that I like tonight – should be chock full of belly laughs and instant memories.  Speaking of bellies, turns out mine is all fucked up again.  The wonderful lap band has once again tightened to the point of not letting anything over  the size of a pea pass through to my stomach, thus leaving me a bit light headed and a lot lighter (10 lbs in 20 days).

So while all the weight I gained back during the lap band draining (or I like to call it the foodcation) is pretty much gone and the nudie morning look in the mirror is looking pretty good now,the whole needing food to live is coming into play.

So after a recent defiling (yesterday) I will likely have to return next week to allow more food to sluice down the ol’ gullet.

Good times.

Anyhoo – back to Tim and Laura.

***

Laura never thought she was the type of woman that would have an affair.  She was a bit wild during her twenties, more drinks and dance floor groping than she would like to admit, but when she committed, she stayed honest and faithful.

Her first post university boyfriend was a bit of jerk, a derivatives trader with tortoise shell glasses and sharp pointy, Ferragamo shoes as shiny as his occasionally slicked back hair.   They both worked hard – she was an industrious event planner at the time – and played hard at the various trendy bars and clubs located near the district where they both worked.  He was tall; almost 6’5” and Laura loved walking into rooms with him and his elongated presence. He was attractive, as was she, and his big, occasionally loud personality would turn a simple after work drink into group shouts of tequila and sloppy bathroom stall make out sessions.  It was only after 15 months of this booze fuelled fun fest Laura received a 1:24am phone call from her tall, loud boyfriend asking her if her husband was home.  It wasn’t the question, it was the silence that followed, making Laura realize immediately that the man she so loved being with, also loved being with someone else.

Two months and many baskets of French fries later, Tim strolled into her life.  He was neither tall, nor slick and his shoes were usually flip flops.  His hound dog eyes, coke- bottle shoulders and latent grunge goatee did not match his unique ability to make people squirm with his remarkable pointed and perceptive questions.  It was these questions and social sagacity that attracted Laura, not the earthy, plush laid back character statement he was trying to make.

“Can I borrow your sugar?”  Was the first question he asked while she was reading a book, sipping a latte.

“Did you know chewing pens is a sign of sexual frustration?”  Was the second.

Then he sat down and poured sugar into his coffee, smirking, staring, begging for a response.  Laura stared back at Tim, the man she was eventually going to marry and wondered if this was a calculated pick up move or not.  Either way, she succumbed, more out of boredom than curiosity.

“I did know that actually,” she replied, placing the dog eared paperback on the table.  “Why do you think this pen is so mangled?”  Her turn to smirk.

The 20 or so seconds of silence that followed Laura’s bold comeback was when she decided to shake of the cobwebs of the douchebag who was sleeping with four other women and get back in the game.  27 years old was not a time to be wallowing over the loss of something insignificant.  There was a cute guy sitting right across from her.  A bit ruffled, a bit milquetoast, but with a great little half smile that she was already feeling in various parts of her body.

“Hi I am Tim,” he said extending his hand.  His thumb ringed hand.

“Nice to meet you Tim, I’m Laura.”

***