They were at it again. The full-bodied Pear, the svelte Banana, the buxom Apple and the smug Hourglass. Discussing the weather, loves, children, music, books, governments and figures over pink martinis. Dissatisfaction was their waiter for the evening and he loomed, servile yet efficient, waiting to refill their glasses at the raise of a shapely eyebrow or a manicured finger whichever the case might have been.
"So you're on another diet? It working for you?" Banana smiled over the rim of her glass, knowing very well that it applied to them all except her. She could afford to and was rather satisfied with herself for being the only one who didn't have to constantly keep track of the calories. The trifle puddings and the death by chocolates and the yellow jilaebis slid off her. A cloud passed over Apple's sweet face. But ever so quickly did it pass, that only the observant really would have noticed it. And none of them quite made the cut. Besides they were much too busy thinking of their very own generous curves camouflaged in chiffon, denim, tussar and attitude.
"Well you know it's no contest really between carbs and calorie watching." Apple giggled like a five-year-old into her martini, making it bubble unsophisticatedly "Besides, pasta makes you a more generous person." "Hmmm..generous from the inside, till it spills right out of your seams, if you know what i mean. I guess some people could live with being fat. I'm certainly not one of those lucky types!", Banana shrugged while reaching out for more low-fat meanness. "Umm yeah, you WOULD look like a great big oak tree ifyou did put on weight!" laughed Apple her light voice sparkling with mirth and tease. Hourglass held up her martini glass and her purple velvet voice turned into silk as she observed, "This glass looks like Apple, no? If she grew edges instead of curves?" "Nasty woman!" Apple giggled throwing her apple seeds at Hourglass.
Pear hadn't said much ever since she walked in. She smiled abstractedly at the banter, but her mind was clogged halfway in the kitchen sink back home, along with bits of onion peel, orange juice, soap suds, hair, salmonella, cereal and tears. Even her martini tasted of heartache. A break. A nice long hot bubble bath of a break. Would be good. Should do it, must do it. She was always postponing things. Never really getting down to it.
Banana was having a particularly great hair day and she kept turning around to catch her reflection in the glass window blowing kisses at herself while doing the same. "What are you doing?" Pear asked with a voice filled with broken glass. Sharp. Cutting. Bruising. Scattered. Piercing. "Loving myself," Banana shot back, in a smoothie voice, "You ought to try it. Bread-n-butter. It's good." There was no need to 'figure' things out to love oneself, right?