Elle The Magnificent cornered me while I was slurping sugar-free vanilla ice cream, as I sprawled on her plump yellow couch, for date night with Mr Spock.
Life was good. What else could a woman want on Friday night but dessert and a zoom through the space-time continuum on the starship Enterprise.
There are some things that a friend should never do to another friend. Interrupting warp drive is one of them.
“I feel ten years younger!’’ she cried, triumphantly.
Me: “You’ll be a playpen and a new rattle then.” Elle won the genetic lottery and ages in reverse. I was not in the mood for more of her perfection. A Klingon bird of prey was decloaking at starboard and my attention was required some place other than in the cheering section for Her Royal Perkiness.
Elle: “I’m serious. This new programme really works. I lost the muffin top, and the best part is absolutely no cravings. I feel energised. Dr Hyman is a genius.’’
Me, sourly: “You sound like an infomercial and not the cute kind either.’’ She stuffed a paperback in my face: Dr Mark Hyman’s Ten-Day Detox Diet. I groaned. Not another veggie-freak, juice-fasting-no-carbs-colon-cleansing quack.
Elle: “It’s so simple. And really fun if you do it in a group, you know, a buddy system, swap recipes. I am cooking every day now and loving it.’’
Me, sneering: “You barely know how to find the kitchen with a map and a compass. Get me another scoop of ice cream, will you, dahling?’’
Elle, making a pretty pout like some baby doll beauty queen: “Artificial sweeteners are out, very toxic. Dr Hyman says we are all addicted to sugar and other bad stuff in one way or another. The ten-day detox gives your body a chance to kick the sugar habit and reboot itself. No bread, pasta, ground provision. No dairy, no caffeine. Lots of protein, you get smoothies, fish, chicken, lean beef, eggs, almonds, sunflower seeds, flaxseed, almond milk. Tons of green vegetables. Limited fruit—that’s where sugar creeps in. Lots of idiot-proof recipes included. I want you to be my buddy for my next ten-day cycle.’’
I ricocheted off the couch (well, as fast as a bread-and-butter loving opinionista of a certain age can be expected to move). Until then, Elle had just been an annoying noise between me and my pointy-eared, green-blooded best friend. Now she was going to get a disrupter blast to her beautiful head any second.
Me: “Oh no, you don’t. I can’t take another failure. The weight always comes back no matter what. I walk four, five times a week. I love vegetables and my body still hates me. So continue being adorable and leave me alone.’’
Elle: “Never figured you for a quitter.’’
Me: “Wake up and smell the toxic coffee.’’
Elle: “This one works, I promise. The difference is you have no cravings, so you don’t forage all day like a rabbit on crack.’’
That was a low blow. Elle knew me too well. I am a nibbler. Meals aren’t really my thing but a bite here, a crunch there, and I am on a fast track to booty-spreading hell.
Then she really penetrated my force field: “And no big set of exercise necessary. The programme wants you to relax, slow down, take nice warm baths with Epsom salts and baking soda and essential oils to draw out the toxins.’’
No boot camp gym? No nasty powdery shakes? No expensive pills?
Elle: “Exercise, as great as it is, doesn’t really make you lose weight. You got to kick the carbs and sugars.’’
Her voice had suddenly become like angel’s harps. Then she cornered me again—this time through social media. A bunch of delightful school-friends, some I had not connected with since high school, got together in cyberspace for a group ten-day detox. I bought Dr Hyman’s book on amazon.com, went grocery shopping with Elle, de-junked the fridge and cupboards, made smoothies with almond milk and flaxseed for breakfast, cooked 30-minute easy-fixin’ pepper beef and curry chicken breast dinners, and continued my early-morning walks.
Weight and waist are my “Kobayashi Maru’’ challenge—the impossible problem with no solution. Unlike Mr Spock, I am not prepared to die trying. Dr Hyman can never take the place of my Vulcan hero but I am writing him into my will—I am bequeathing to him all my fat clothes which now no longer fit.
Ten days, ten pounds. And counting. Go buy the book.
• Tell me your skinny stories at wrenchelsa@hotmail.com