Bon Bons to Yoga Pants

Chapter 4- Health and Happiness Society

"Welcome to the first official meeting of the Health and Happiness Society. Mira is passing around a tray of ice water. Feel free to drink all you want because it's calorie free."

A woman named Bitsy stood at the top of the room in a pair of tight black workout capris, a baggy shirt, and her hair in a messy bun. She had the air of a frazzled mom that hadn't had the time to lose the baby weight. I silently applauded her moxie at wearing form-fitting pants; I'd never be caught dead in such a tight set of trousers. I secretly envied the girls who could wear yoga pants. If I tried, my legs had enough unattractive lumps and bumps that it would look like someone stuffed marshmallows down my pants

Mira shoved a glass of ice water into my hands. "Take it and drink up," she said. "I hear ice water increases your metabolism."

Unable to refuse because she'd probably dump it in my lap, I took the sweating cold glass and had a sip. Plain water sounded as appetizing as dry broccoli. It needed a good scoop of lemonade powder. My lips pursed just thinking of the tart and sweet flavor.

Delish.

"Thank you for coming tonight and taking time out of your busy lives to take care of your health," Bitsy continued, as if our losing weight benefitted her in some personal endeavor. "Trust me when I say that the investment is worth it."

The couch I sat on was scratchy and old, in a living room filled with odd trinkets and a small TV. Several pictures of two young girls playing with a dark-haired man littered the walls, although I didn't see Bitsy in any of them. An impressive number of Jillian Michaels workout DVD's were stacked on a rack. It wasn't the most up-to-date house, but it was certainly spotless.

Four other people filled the room, the first of the Health and Happiness Society. Bitsy, our fearless and somewhat drill sergeant-esque leader, Mira, myself, and two men who sat on opposite sides of the room. Every age, height, and weight seemed to have representation. The only thing we appeared to have in common was one obvious trait: we all were a little soft around the edges.

Okay, a lot soft. Around all edges.

"This group is a support group," Bitsy explained. "We'll weigh in before every meeting and report our calorie intake for the week. Don't worry! Your weigh in will be totally confidential. Just between you and me. Then as a group we'll discuss what we've struggled with that week and do a recipe swap."

Mira had finished passing around the water, and now handed out pieces of paper. I felt like I'd just walked into an AA meeting.

Hi, I pictured myself saying. My name is Lexie, and all I can think about right now is chicken pad Thai.

The handout contained a brief overview of dieting strategies. Nothing I hadn't heard before, of course. Mom had me on a diet since high school, when she first started to notice my pants filling out. She'd panicked and threatened to put me on a diet of only grapefruit and cucumber water. Thankfully, Mira had talked her out of it. Dad had just laughed it off and reached for another glazed donut saying, "She's got some meat on her bones, that's all!"

Don't shop on an empty stomach, the paper preached. Fill up with a glass of water before dinner. And, my personal favorite, don't eat when you're feeling emotional.

I snorted. Fat chance.

Mira sat next to me, the scent of lavender drifting behind her like a trailing wind.

"Don't look so angry," she whispered, shooting me a sharp look of disapproval. "No one will want to be your friend, and you shouldn't diet alone. They say that you're 75% more likely to lose weight when you do it as part of a group."

While I doubted she quoted actual statistics, I didn't have a chance to call her out on it. One of the men on the other side of the room stood up, his hands fidgeting nervously in front of an impressive beer belly. He had a shiny bald head underneath his greasy combover, and a wide pair of coke bottle glasses.

"Hi," he said, clearing his throat. "I'm Ken."

"Hi Ken," Bitsy and Mira echoed, as if they operated from one brain.

"I'm a father of five. I lost my job last year and turned to food for comfort. I want to lose weight again because I don't like myself anymore and I'm depressed. I also want to live to see my grandkids."

He paused, as if he wanted to say more, then sat down.

I hear you brother, I wanted to say. Food is the greatest comfort. It never lets me down. Especially egg rolls with the sweet and sour dipping sauce.

The introductions moved around the room one at a time until all their eyes landed on me. The moment I felt the power of their stares, I pulled my hoodie out to make sure it wasn't sticking to my rolling stomach and slowly stood.

"I'm Lexie," I said with an awkward wave. "I want to lose 100 pounds because there's a guy I want to date."

The two men nodded politely, but clearly couldn't care less. Bitsy, however, honed her sharp eyes on me like a hawk.

"Is that the only reason?" she asked.

We stared at each other for a tense moment. She was definitely the kind of woman who lived in Mom mode and snapped out commands like a four star general.

"Oh, yeah," I added, realizing that she wanted more from me. "And for my health and stuff."

She lifted an eyebrow; I certainly hadn't fooled her. Instead of calling me out for being a superficial college student who would only meet with failure because beauty comes from within, she simply smiled in a terse way.

"Well, welcome to the Health and Happiness Society, Lexie. We're glad to have you. Just as soon as Mira introduces herself, we'll go into the back for the weigh in, and figure out from there what everyone's daily calorie allotment should be."

My sigh of relief stopped.

Wait.

Calorie allotment?

Couldn't I just cut down my portion sizes and call it good? That's what I'd done today. I had just one sandwich at lunch instead of two. My stomach kept growling and I couldn't think of anything but food, which meant the diet must already be working. Couldn't I just weigh myself and not have anyone else know how high the scale had been creeping?

Bradley's new photo on Facebook that morning flashed through my mind. He was so beautiful, with the sculpted planes of his Greek god face. My eyes drifted down to my too-big scrub pants and overly large baggy sweatshirt. I couldn't risk meeting Bradley wearing a hoodie. Surely he wouldn't be attracted to me, Lexie Greene, college student and certified bartender.

No, I had to do it. I had to count calories and . . . weigh in.

I let out a long breath and steeled myself for what would surely be the most depressing reckoning I'd had in months.

The scale.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the first intro to the Health and Happiness Society. Don't forget to comment with your favorite cold drink, and vote if you want to read more!