Page 15 of D.I.E.T. (Did I Eat That?)

“There is no relationship with Sinjin,” I protested. “He’s myaccountability partner. That’s all. Don’t try to force something that isn’t there.”

She smiled her slick littlethinks-she-knows-bettersmile at me, then bent down to slip on her white, furry boots that made the bottom half of her legs look like yeti legs. Bundled up for the day, we headed out of her place to my Jeep. She drove a sporty little number—a convertible. Terrible on winter roads. An impulse buy she’d made after getting dumped. Big sister law demanded that I try to get her to trade it in for something sturdier, which was what I’d been doing this whole time. Little sister law demanded she ignore my request. I hoped this vicious circle would someday end—preferably sooner than later.

“Okay,” I said. “Where we headed?”

She shot me an eyeroll. “Duh. Waffle Palace.”

I shifted the truck into gear and headed out for the best greasy spoon in the city. The ride regularly took ten minutes from her apartment; today it took fifteen. Being Monday, people with regular nine-to-five jobs had already made it into the office, hence, parking wasn’t an issue.

We seated ourselves, the waitresses wearing their peach uniforms right out of that seventies sitcomAliceonly looking up to see us walk in after the little bell over the door alerted them to our presence. Ancient grease particles bonded with the air making every breath thick, but the smell of bacon and carbs outweighed any future raspatory ailments. Lu and I had a ritual, but today I couldn’t stick with it. Typically, we each ordered a different kind of waffle and we’d split a steak, egg, and hash brown breakfast. She stuck to the ritual, even though I knew she’d never eat that much food. I, however, ordered an egg white omelet, veggies, no cheese, with a gluten-free English muffin and fruit cup.

“You didn’t order waffles,” she astutely said.

“No. I didn’t. They aren’t bootcamp-approved.” I picked up my glass of ice water and sipped on it for something to do.

She glared at me. “Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”

I laughed. “Iamyour sister. The sister who’s going to beat that poser’s butt at this get-in-shape game and run up the stairs of Albatross monument like Rocky Balboa.”

“Gonna throw your fists in the air?” she asked.

“You know it.”

“Okay, so I’ll forgive no waffles for that.But.” She stressed the wordbut. “I expect full waffle participation when you get home. You don’t have to go back to the old ways if you don’t want. I like a Cobb salad as much as the next girl—but waffles on Mondays are sacred.”

Chuckling, I reached over the table to squeeze her hand, thinking how stinking lucky I was to have won the sister lottery with Lu. Pia, our older sister, we got along with her fine. Enjoyed her company when we got together. But Lu and I had a special bond forged in childhood. One built by making Pia’s life difficult.

“Promise. Once this is over, we’ll waffle.” It so happened that right at that moment, the waitress showed, placing a plate of strawberry and whipped cream, crispy, fluffy deliciousness down in front of Lu. I almost buckled and said screw it when the smell hit my nose. But I persevered.

Luisa plucked a strawberry with her fork, dipped it in cream, and handed it off to me. “Before you object, berries have the lowest carb count of any fruit and the whipped cream is considered low-carb, too. Totally bootcamp-approved. Plus, it’s just one bite.”

“Evil,” I said, but said it grabbing the fork and shoving that perfect bite into my mouth. Then we got down to the business of eating. The egg white omelet tasted okay. It would’ve been better slathered in cheese. After we finished and paid the bill, we headed to a shopping plaza.

Lu knew the exact stores she wanted us to visit. I left that decision making in her capable hands because I hated shopping. Nothing ever fit me properly—either too big or too snug. Or at least that was how I saw it. Lu didn’t. She began picking out outfits by the tens for me to try on. And let’s just say some of her selections confused me. A bathing suit? A two-piece, no less! Fifty miles off the coast of Antarctica? Ridiculous. My sister might have been losing her mind.

“The hotel has a pool, doesn’t it?” she asked after my protest.

“Yes,” I mumbled. “But—”

“Nobuts. You look hot. You’re getting it.”

I mean, it looked like one of those 1940s two-piece numbers with the high waist and halter top. This one, an off-white with pineapples and orange hibiscus flowers, looked particularly vintage, which meant I gave in.

I adored the pinup era. Talk about a time where people celebrated a woman’s curves. At the end of a very long shopping excursion, between us, Lu and I had eleven bags. More of those belonged to her, but I pretty much shopped until I dropped.

We shopped through lunch and hit up a casual seafood restaurant for dinner, where I continued to rock with my quest to stay bootcamp-approved, ordering baked Alaskan Cod, steamed broccoli, and brown rice. I didn’t particularly care for brown rice, too chewy, but I thought I remembered reading that the health benefits outweighed those of its white rice counterpart. Go me.

After dropping my sister back off at her place, I made the trek home, ready to throw my new purchases in the washer and maybe rent a movie. But not before stopping at the market to pick up a container of assorted berries and some Reddi-wip because as Lu said earlier,low carb, and I had a hankering for something sweet.

I only just stepped inside my foyer when my phone rang. Quickly dropping my bags, I fumbled to get the thing out of my purse. Sinjin’s name lit up the screen.

“Whatcha need?” I asked rather than sayinghello.

He laughed softly in my ear. He had a nice laugh—shoot, no, he didn’t. Terrible laugh. Ugly laugh. “I thought maybe we could watch a movie?”

“I have work tomorrow,” I replied.

“Why, Brigeeta, I wasn’t suggesting I stay the night, you naughty girl.”

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