When more is less. Or, why I’m watching TV in the toilet.

September 19, 2008

Viking Woman: “I’m fat.”

Me (the faint tinkle of alarm bells sounding in my ears): “You’re adorable.”

VW: “I’m fat and we both know it.”

Me (feeling an initial urge to start scrambling): “There’s just more of you to love, that’s all.”

VW: “There will be more of me to dance on your grave, you keep talking like that. Now, pay attention. We need to go back on the Jenny Craig programme. It worked wonders for both of us last time.”

Me (nodding vigorously while examining an empty wallet): “Yes it did, dear. And just as soon as we win Lotto, we can afford to buy all those yummy pre-packaged meals again.”

VW: “I can’t wait that long. I need to lose many, many kilos right now.”

Me (scoping out possible escape routes): “What’s the hurry, honey?”

VW: “Three words: Las Vegas, pool, swimsuit.”

Me (surreptitiously pocketing the car keys): “Actually, I believe that’s four words.”

VW: “Are you arguing with a fat woman?”

Me (feeling assorted sphincters tighten): “No dear. Never. Wouldn’t think of it.”

VW: “I need to flush out my system.”

Me (perusing the pantry): “You mean by drinking the wine we’ve been stockpiling for my sister’s visit?”

VW: “I mean by doing that lemon-drink-master-cleanse-fasting-diet-thingee.”

Me (wincing): “The one with the lemon juice and the maple syrup and the cayenne pepper?”

VW: “That’s the one.”

Me (swallowing hard): “We tried that a few years ago, dear. Remember how we pretty much evacuated everything we’ve ever ingested, right down to the boogers we ate when we were two? Remember how the cayenne pepper set my ass hairs on fire?”

VW: “I remember that it worked.”

Me (shuddering): “I remember gnawing on my own arm after two days I was so hungry.”

VW: “We should both do the cleanse again.”

Me (eyes popping): “What’s this ‘we’ thing? It was your idea. For you.”

VW: “You’re getting fat.”

Me (going all defensive/indignant): “I thought you liked husky men.”

VW: “Husky, yes. Fat, no.”

Me (shaking my head slowly): “You know I’ll spend the next six days in the toilet. That I will be reading every magazine in the house. Twice. That you will need extra extension cords so you can move the TV into the toilet so I can watch Shortland Street. You know that, right?”

VW: “I think it’s cute when you sprint through the house screaming.”

Me (almost smiling): “Cute? I thought I was fat.”

VW: “Cute AND fat.”

Me (shrugging in defeat): “Pass the lemon juice. And start gathering up my reading material. Oh, and you might want to turn off the smoke detector. This is going to get ugly.”

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