Upon hanging up the phone, my friend Rochel went into her living room and plopped herself down in a chair.
“What am I going to do?” she wailed.
“What’s the matter?” her unsuspecting, but concerned husband asked.
“I just got off the phone with Sima, a friend from seminary. I haven’t seen her in 20 years and she happens to be in town. She said she wants to stop by to see me tomorrow.”
“I’m not really understanding,” her husband replied, shaking his head in confusion.
“You don’t get it.” (He knew that was coming) “What I mean,”she said, taking a deep breath, “is that there’s no way I can lose 30 lbs. by tomorrow afternoon,” her voice rising to a new pitch.
“But Rochel, what’s the worst that’ll happen?” he foolishly continued asking.
Shocked by his inability to answer this question himself, she retorted, “She’ll see me of course.”
“Oh,” he replied before quickly adding, “You’re beautiful just the way you are.”
The glare that was laser-beamed across the room made him realize that his only means of surviving the next twenty-four hour period was to make himself scarce. He cautiously excused himself, told her that he was sure she would work it out and then made a beeline for the door.
Clearly needing the support and advice of more experienced trauma team, Rochel conference-called a few of her in-town friends for advice. The first suggestion someone made was to have one of those life-size, cardboard stand-ups made using a picture of her from 20lbs ago. After all, one had to be realistic. Figuring she could place the cardboard image of herself in the living room, hide in the kitchen and “throw” her voice, like in the ventriloquist, they embraced the idea. Only after coming to the bitter conclusion that “throwing” her voice was beyond her capabilities, was the idea nixed. Other possibilities included putting room darkening shades in the living room while keeping all the lights off tothe brilliant idea of hiring a double who could stand in for her. Unfortunately, it would be too pricey to buy new shades and equally difficult to prep someone with all the shared memories of the good old days, especially since she couldn’t remember half of them.
The group then moved onto the “what did you do when” scenarios. After all, Rochel had attended weddings, Bar Mitzvah’s and other simchas over the last few years.
“All true,” she informed them, when this was brought to her attention, “but I have a three year or 90-day rule.” Their stunned silence was rewarded with the following explanation;“See, if you’ve seen me in the last three-years, then you have the updated version of the “outer-me.” On the other hand, if you haven’t, then I need at least 90 days to get back to the dress size that I was when you last saw me. The problem here is that I have no lead time for this and I haven’t seen Sima in twenty years.” Point well taken. The situation looked grim.
Realizing that there was nowhere else to turn, they decided to face reality.It was decided that they would have to choose an outfit that would most-flatter the situation. Hunting around in Rochel’s closet they stumbled upon her album from seminary. One look at the hairstyles the outdated glasses had them rolling. Underneath the album, her “sem” sweatshirt was discovered with an “Angel’s Bakery” bag and a banner carefully folded up inside. The banner was the “Welcome Home” sign that had greeted her upon her arrival home. Surrounded by such comforting memories, Rochel decided that if Sima was still the friend she used to be then nothing would change that, neither twenty years nor thirty pounds.
The next day the much anticipated knock came. Rochel, mustering all her courage and enthusiasm, flung the door open only to find herself face to face with a tree. You know the kind that sits in one of those enormous plant holders that people put in the corner of their living room for no apparent reason. The only sign of a human being were the two arms wrapped around the pot.
“Sima?” Rochel asked cautiously.
“Hi Rochel, it’s me. I brought you a present.”
“Can I have it so you can come in and so that I can see you?” Rochel inquired.
“I’ll give it to you when I leave. For now, I’ll just keep it in front of me,” Sima said matter of factly.
“What?”
“Well, it’s just that, well, I’m just a little embarrassed,” Sima stammered. “See, I’ve gained 30 lbs since you last saw me and well…”
“Say no more,” Rochel shrieked, “You’re the best friend ever. I knew I could count on you.” She threw her arms around Sima, tree and all, (which turned out to be a little more painful than she had anticipated.)
With that little issue (and the tree) out of the way, Rochel dragged Sima into the house where they spent a lovely afternoon reliving the past and creating a future.