Monday, September 18, 2006

I'm A Perfect 10

After moving to Hollywood from New York I found a rental in a 1960’s era building with the pool in the middle and the neighbors all fanned out in a voyeur’s circle. Exactly like Melrose Place but without the sex.

Now I’m not one of those people who has to know what my neighbors are up to (I’m lying) so I only open my curtains to let in the sun. (Lying again) I made management put a screen on my front door so I could keep it open and let a breeze in. (My DKNY pants are on fire) I did not miss New York, where people kept their doors closed or slammed them in your face.

But like New York, I could walk anywhere in my neighborhood and do all my errands, which was a plus. I went to my local supermarket one day and while standing in the check out line eyeing the candy and pretending not to read The Enquirer, I found my favorite, a Snickers bar. I reached for it only to discover that it was hard as a rock. I reached for the one behind it and it too was hard as a rock. Maybe Corporate Snickers had not let Los Angeles Snickers know that the preferred mode of eating them was when they were edible. I asked the cashier if they had any more.
“What’s wrong with those?" she asked.
I kept my Big New York Sarcastic Mouth shut and bought one anyway. I unwrapped it in the car and discovered that parts of the chocolate had discolored to a grayish brown. I called my sister.
“Why are the Snickers bars at the supermarket hard as a rock and discolored?”
“Because they sit there forever. And why on earth would you eat one of those?”
“I love them.”
“We don’t eat those here. I mean, do you want to die?”
“I had a craving for chocolate.”
“How much do you weigh?”
“I’m 5’5”, that’s totally normal.”
“Maybe on Planet Jumbo, but not here in L.A.”
“That’s a size 8.”
“It used to be an 8, in the Midwest it’s now a (she whispered this part) twelve. Here in L.A. it’s still only a 10 but unless someone is referring to how you look overall, you do not EVER want to be a 10.”
“How much do you weigh?” I asked.
“Well I weigh more than you because my muscle mass weighs more than your fat. Once I measure your B.M.I. you’ll see what I mean.”
“I don’t have a BMW.”
“B.M. EYE: Body Mass Index. Don’t you read Muscle & Fitness?”
“Yeah, only I call it Vogue. So what do you buy when you go to the movies?”
“Bottled water.”
“Have people over?”
“Soy Delicious.”
“Have a craving for something sweet?”
“They should post signs at the airport, Attention: Now Entering a Food-Free Zone.”
“Very funny. Just up your protein intake, more chicken, fish, and edamame, you like edamame, right?”
“Unless that’s a fancy word for candy, I’m guessing no.”
“And no food after six p.m.”
“Sometimes I want something in the middle of the night.”
“Oh my God, you have NES.”
“Impossible, I haven’t had sex in months.”
“Nighttime Eating Syndrome. Just eat more protein and you’ll lose your sugar cravings.”
“I don’t want to lose them.”
“Yes you do.”
“No I don’t. First I lose the sugar cravings and then what? I start voting Republican?” She hung up on me.

I now weigh 122. Well not really, but my sister reads this blog.

End of chat.


  1. It's fixed! This post was (and still is)so damn true and so damn funny. Let the comments roll in!

  2. Very funny post. "Only I call it Vogue" is great.

    Stefanie sent me and I'm glad she did! I'll be back.

  3. LOL. That's enough to make you want to barf up your lunch. LOL. Remind me not to go to L.A. until I hit a size 3 (so I'm basically never going because I'll never see that size again lol).

  4. I'm supposed to move from NY to LA in the Spring.

    I am now reconsidering.

  5. Oh come on Mom101, we'll go to Kitson and Neiman's, we'll go to Nobu and make fun of rich skinny people who can afford the food, don't be a party pooper, come on girl, just DO IT. xxoo