I have several very good friends; Meredith is one of them. But of all my friends, we are least alike. I am a fairly typical Jewish girl, with a fairly typical close-knit-but-somewhat-crazy Jewish family. Meredith is not Jewish, and comes from a Yankee-like background (despite her mom originally being from Colorado). Where I wear my heart on a proverbial sleeve, she is more reserved, one may even say stoic, in displaying her emotions. I love going to the movies. Meredith prefers watching them at home. I could sit in the sun for hours, reading a book. Meredith would be bored in a millisecond doing that. I could spend days in stores. Meredith buys from necessity, not sport. I like to go to bed late. Meredith could be happy going to bed at nine. But then she’s up by five. We could never be married.
When I was in Marketing at Chesebrough-Ponds back in the early 80’s, Meredith and I worked together-she as producer, me as client. We liked each other but did not become friendly outside of work. Soon after, she moved to Minneapolis, while I stayed in NY, met Eric, had Alexander, and switched jobs. When Meredith moved back to NY in 1995 or so, she called me up. And almost immediately we became close friends. Our interests might be different, but our values are the same.
Tonight we meet for dinner. Meredith says she’ll treat if I come to her neighborhood. We live less than three miles from each other (she lives on the Upper West side and I live Upper East), but sometimes that cross through the Park feels like a major journey. We speak almost daily but the last time I actually saw Meredith was when we went to theater together (that is something we both like) in May, almost two months ago, and almost two pounds.
Meredith’s first words when she sees me tonight are, “You look like a shadow of your former self.” And over dinner she looks at me and says, “And your face doesn’t look too thin at all. In fact, you look years younger. Really.” She reminds me that last time I weighed this little was during the summer of 2006, when I felt separated from myself, and not healthy at all, mentally. She tells me I look so much better now, even at the same weight I was then. She makes me realize how important mental health is to looking good.
Dinner is amazing. Meredith has chosen a neighborhood Italian restaurant near her home called Regional. Knowing that tomorrow is weigh-in, I had planned on ordering light, and that is what I do, with no sacrifice to quality. I order the sea bass in parched paper with potatoes and spinach. Not that many points and prepared to perfection.
Meredith and I talk about life. Its challenges. The heat. The city. And much more. We both even think it might be time to start looking for good men (especially since we each have a history of gravitating to exciting bad-boy types. Yes, we do have that in common).
I get home around nine, from a satisfying meal. And a splendid night with a wonderful friend.
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