I joined Weight Watchers on September 28, 2003. It’s not something I talk about too much, I enjoy shrinking and having people compliment my “new” glasses and “new” haircut. The other day, I saw Hassan–he is the reason I joined.
Hassan got hit by a car when he was crossing Damen at Leland. He was in the intersection, at the crosswalk, and a driver blew the stop sign and hit him. He broke both legs and hit the windshield. I was there when it happened, called 911 (along with a number of other people) and did first aid. I didn’t do much, but hold his head and pray for him and laugh at his very sarcastic comments.
Anyway, his family owns the Quizno’s on my block and his parent’s are very grateful and I get free Quizno’s. But for a couple days, he continued to bleed out of his ears–that’s not good. I made a deal with a god I sometime’s believe in–I’d lose the weight, if Hassan would live.
I joined WW that night.
Now I’ve lost nearly 40 lbs and am only halfway to my goal of being a skinny minny. However, I’ve decided to go ahead and drop the fat girl mentality that has kept me imprisoned since before I was fat. No, I wasn’t grotesque, but face it–the altitude wasn’t what made me gasp for air. It was the extra weight that I’d gained eating in college cafeterias for six years and being trapped in unhappy jobs and not realizing that a bag of tostidos with a jar of queso was not an ideal dinner.
Anyway, I am no longer the funny friend. I am no longer the caring friend. I am no longer the sage friend with good advice. I am the fucking hot friend. Got it?
“Who’s Leah again?” an friend of yours asks.
“Leah? She’s my fucking hot friend. She’s single and happily sells ice cream and candy on the North Side. If your a single, creative, funny (straight) guy, I should give you her number. She’d love to go the Le Sabre with you for an omelette.”
Got it?
Fucking hot.
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