something to re-consider (lyn)

Last night I met Julie and Ken (along with Meredith) for a sushi dinner before theater.  I think it’s only the third time I have been in a restaurant since starting on Weight Watchers.

I don’t see Julie and Ken often, though I’ve known them for 30 years and adore them both.  Julie and I met in Chicago when I was going to Northwestern graduate school at night and working at Blue Cross Blue Shield of Illinois in the day (we were both in Human Resources).  It was just a job.  Aside from Julie, there wasn't much to remember about my job there, but I do remember this.  The claims adjusters would work all day in fluffy slippers.  Perhaps they even wore them home.  I was 28 and this bothered me.  I think I felt that the job I was in was beneath me, and seeing fellow workers traipse around the halls in footwear that shouldn't leave one's home only reinforced my feelings.  I petitioned my boss to institute a policy that forbade fluffy slippers in the workplace.  It was unprofessional, I argued.  He agreed.  That was about the extent of the impact I had there.

Julie and Ken once lived in Manhattan, but moved out a while ago.  They now have two kids, a beautiful home with idyllic grounds in Connecticut, and great pets.  One is a rabbit.  Once when Alexander was little we visited them.  Alexander loved playing with their cats and two dogs, but was most enamored with their rabbit.  So he asked Ken what the rabbit’s name was and Ken replied, “Zeus, I think.”  Seems that the rabbit did not receive the same level of family love and attention that the others did.

Julie and Ken are the people I go to when I need to escape.  In the last ten years I have had that need twice:  once from the city and once from myself.    They are definitely not the coddling types (both are the least-whiny people I know).  A few years ago Julie was in a horrific car accident, nearly died, had a very lengthy recovery, and never once complained. 

The first time I ran to Julie and Ken’s was after 9-11.  I took Alexander and never wanted to come back.  I actually spent time with Ken looking at places to live in New Canaan Connecticut, a beautiful place that couldn’t possibly be less-me. We laugh about it now.

The second time was in June 2006, when I felt I was losing my grip on life.  I had completely lost my appetite and weighed about 118 pounds.  My clothes were literally falling off me, and I had to make an effort to put food in my mouth.   Everything tasted like sandpaper.  I remember going to Agata, in a fugue-like state.   I would buy spinach because objectively I knew it was healthy and nourishing, even though I couldn’t taste it.  Similarly I purchased other foods.  I was possibly even too-thin.  (But I did look good in a bathing suit).

In some ways, they’ve saved my life twice.  They also happen to be a ton of fun.

So as I sat at dinner last night with three very good friends, I decided that perhaps I should consider eating out more.  I've missed it.