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HOW TO DESTABILIZE A MAN

She:

cancels a date at the last minute and apologizes, but won’t give him a reason.

describes her evening in five words or fewer (“It was really fun”), and then goes straight to bed.

talks politics with her mouth and sex with her eyes.

is alarmingly honest and answers “terribly” when asked how she’s doing.

actually forgets to wear a bra in summertime.

makes an office meeting more exciting by discreetly laying her hand on his thigh.

settles her scores with sex, instead of talking it through.

grabs hold of a stranger’s arm to walk down the stairs in heels.

manages to pay the bill before he even asks for it.

randomly exclaims, “This is the most wonderful day of my life!”

THE 6:00 P.M. DEBATE THE GYM

This is a story that begins with an inner debate. As the workday draws to a close, the dilemma sets in. Does she really have to go to the gym? It just so happens that as the result of a previous internal debate brought on by an afternoon spent with her mother, she signed up for a gym membership. Her mother had been so beautiful (family photos attest to her former long-limbed elegance). And yet, a mere decade of inactivity was all it took to ruin this gift that Mother Nature had so graciously bestowed upon her. As she watched her mother making coffee that afternoon with heavy hips and a sagging backside that had succumbed to Newton’s law, it became clear to her that the god who had invented menopause was obviously a misogynist. And so she made a serious decision that fateful day: it was time she join a gym and defy her genetic baggage and the laws of gravity.

Uneasy and hesitant, she had entered a gym gloriously underprepared, in a pair of old Converses and sweatpants that she never wears. She signed up, adding her name forever to the official registry of sporty girls. Once inside the fortress she felt even less sure of herself, but vowed not to let it show. She refused to ask for help with the treadmill settings, and, consequently, ended up running at an awkward speed, clumsily stretching one leg out in front of the other, not unlike a duck, too proud to stop before the allocated fifteen minutes were up. Her panting betrayed her thirty years of careless living: cigarettes, alcohol, and a chronic lack of sleep. Despite the cramps, she stuck it out like a warrior. After twenty-three minutes, she leaves the gym proud and vowing to return soon.

That was a month ago. The dilemma has continued to haunt her every day since. She thinks of her mother’s backside and the cost of the gym membership, but that’s not enough. Come six o’clock, a wave of exhaustion overwhelms her and she feels the dangerous draw of the sidewalk café. And, just then, her friends call her up, as if to test her willpower. She knows she doesn’t have much resolve, and deep down, she doesn’t really give a damn. She makes a mental note to go to the gym the next day. She curses her mother for losing her figure, causing her daughter anxiety attacks (though thankfully these are easily dispelled). At 7:00 p.m., she is holding a glass of red wine in her hand, and the idea of working out is long gone.



 

 

SCENES FROM PARISIAN LIFE: TAKE 2


Date: 2016-01-14; view: 1308


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