Myrtle’s Revenge

Dipping the last bite of her fourth blueberry pancake into the puddle of maple syrup pooling on her plate, Myrtle glanced at the clock above the kitchen sink and sighed as she realized that it was almost time to leave for her weekly Weight Watchers meeting. Snatching another slice of bacon off the grease soaked paper towel plastered to the platter next to the stove, she shoved it quickly into her mouth before she had time to tally the fatty points. Swallowing hard she shook her head as she realized that this king size breakfast, had in itself, consumed most of her allotted points for the day.
“Well”, she thought sadly, “no point in going now; there’s no way I lost anything this week. May as well start over next week.” she whispered as she plodded out of the kitchen. Mounting the cumbersome stairway, her thoughts drifted back to the festive week she’d enjoyed. There was the birthday party on Saturday for her grandson Jack. The whole family had come out of hiding for this event, bringing dozens of Tupperware bowls filled with cheese dips, desserts and Aunt Millie’s infamous macaroni and cheese. The Coleman grill had sizzled all afternoon, filling the backyard with the mouthwatering aroma of burgers, brats and barbeque ribs! Myrtle could not control the urge to consume plates full of everything throughout the day, so much food in fact, that she was almost unable to polish off a hefty piece of Jack’s triple fudge birthday cake.
Next, there was Sunday’s church Bazar and bake sale. It was probably not the best idea for her to run the baked goods table, well not with her intense infatuation with chocolate manning it with her. By the close of the event, Myrtle had taste tested her way through the entire display, tallying up enough B.L.T.s (bite, licks & tastes) to put her into a sugar coma on the ride home! After such a wild weekend, she had decided to put away her point tracker and get back on the program on Monday. Monday came and went and still the little tracker stayed hidden away in the kitchen junk drawer. Myrtle avoided the drawer at all costs, hoping to keep the guilty pangs at bay; besides, she was having lunch with Carol and Kitty at Luigi’s Italian Buffet on Tuesday and there was no point in spoiling that delightful food fest with guilt. Oh and what a gorge-fest it had been, from the basil cream cheese bruschetta to the piles of cannelloni, lasagna and chicken fettuccini. They had hung out all afternoon drinking wine and refilling their plates. She had consumed so much pasta, in fact, that she was forced to unbutton her jeans just to make room for digestion! It had been such a fun afternoon until her friend Kitty mentioned that after this buffet, she might have to rejoin Weight Watchers herself in the morning. They had all shared a laugh as the basket of hot, garlic/cheese bread made its way around the table once again.
As her meeting reminder went off on her phone, Myrtle realized that now it was time to pay the piper. She would have to muster the courage to walk into the Weight Watchers office, past Sally, her kindhearted leader and step up on that unforgiving scale, knowing that it would light up with an annoying number that would ruin not only her day, but her entire week. She continued to get ready, even though she subconsciously planned to drive past the office and get a Dairy Queen ice cream cone instead. In an attempt to talk herself into going, she decided to wear that special new outfit she bought at Macys a few weeks ago and smiled as she reached for the hanger, remembering how slim she had looked in it. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Myrtle squirmed and struggled to pull the pants on, finding to her dismay, that she could only zip them while lying stretched out on her back. Straining to stand up, she looked at her reflection in the mirror, deciding with great sadness, that she looked like a giant stuffed sausage. Rushing to free herself from the embarrassment of her own revolting image, she peeled off the pants and tossed them to the floor, cringing as she reached for her trusty sweat pants.
An overwhelming sense of regret and sadness shrouded her as she stood alone in her bedroom staring at the unhappy face in the mirror. All of the counting, measuring and effort that she had put into her program over the past few months was destroyed in just a few short days. She climbed back onto the bed and buried her face in a pillow, crying hysterically. The tears tumbled from her eyes like summer rain, bringing with them, first, overwhelming sadness and then a wrath of anger. She stood up suddenly, wiping the tears on her sleeve, noticing with annoyance that her Fitbit had been missing all week along with her tracker and her good sense! She grabbed it off of the dresser and strapped it to her wrist like a warrior getting ready for battle. Pulling on her sneakers she laced them up…tight and stood there with her hands on her hips.
She was ready! Ready to face the DEMON-SPAWN of a scale, her leader and the entire group! Today was a brand new day, a fresh start and a new beginning. Myrtle refused to waste another minute feeling sorry for herself, making excuses or procrastinating. Yanking the junk drawer open, she pulled out her tracking log and point calculator, proceeding to meticulously add up the points for her dreadful breakfast of pancakes, syrup, bacon and butter. With a trembling hand she wrote down 19 points, realizing that although it was bad, it wasn’t as terrible as she had thought. With the stroke of a pen, she had taken accountability for all she had shoveled into her mouth that morning and put it all behind her. It was all a part of her past now and she vowed to let it go as she headed for the door and her noon meeting. Myrtle snatched the car keys up off the counter and then pausing, dropped them, deciding to ride her bicycle instead. As she pedaled out of the garage and down the street, she smiled as the winds of change blew across her face and her hair fluttered wildly behind her.

Comments

comments