“Fine Kate, don’t come with me!”
She walked over to her station, her cash register. “You know Celeste, see this as me allowing you to spread your wings and discover yourself. Do this for you, not because I’ll be there with you. You’re the one talking about confidence, right? How will you be confident with me by your side all the time?”
Oh no, she’s suggesting a trial separation, isn’t she? She can be so annoying. I should have known when she added wanting to drink alcohol on her list. I’ll go by myself during lunch break. I don’t care what hurdles will be in front of me then but all I know is that today, I’m joining the gym! And I have the car too. I’ll just drive to the mall where the gym is and just sign up. I feel like laughing and floating around the store at the same time. I’ve never had this much direction in my life, or purpose. Is this how it feels to have meaning in life? Yes!
************
That wasn’t so bad, it was great actually, liberating. I walked into the gym, and yes, I was intimidated by all the fitness freaks, working out during lunch time...Who does that? Well, looks like I’ll get to find out pretty soon. I got a tour of the facility. It looks rather intimidating (Wait, I’ve said that already). The machines are just so big and they look like they can hurt me instead of burning calories. The nice man at the counter was just blissful when describing them. I think it’s that hormone you get after exercising that they say makes you happy. I’m sure if I’d demanded a demonstration, he would have jumped on quite happily to show me. He wasn’t all groggy and constipated like the rest of the world either. I’d like to see him having a confrontation with a pissed off civilian. Actually that’s quite funny.
“Hey, exercise is good for you!” he says, jumping up and down with joy.
“Oh, fuck off!” says the civilian.
Oh, where do I come up with these things? Anyway, the gym is full of machines. I have been assured that on my first day, the trainers will show me how to use the machines. However, I get a week of free personal training. I paid them. My last money, going into exercise! I need all the strength I can get so that I don’t stop half way and quit. Apparently there’s a fun aerobics class in the evening. There’s aerobics and tae-bo (some sort of martial arts exercise). It’s exciting, I am excited. Kate and I did our famous celebratory dance when I got back to the boutique. We just frantically shake our bottoms while jumping around in circles, it is great!
I just got a text from my sister. She’s coming to visit this week. That’s okay. I won’t allow my jealousy of her accomplishments ruin my plans to finally get in touch with the man of my dreams. I think I’ll also develop a vegetable patch somewhere in the yard. I read somewhere in a magazine that growing your own organic vegetables is good for the mind...or your finances, I don’t quite remember the exact words. I’ll grow some spinach and tomatoes. I don’t like spinach, I hate it in fact, but I have to eat it. I am going to be a vegetarian. Yes! No meat while I’m in the gym. I want this to be effective, you know. I’m going on a healthy eating plan, I prefer not to call it a diet because then I’m going to cheat. A healthy lifestyle is more like it. I don’t want to be in the food prison called a diet. I am this big because I love food. If I go on a diet, I’m sure going to cheat; sneak in some chips or something once in a while. It’s a tough business losing weight. I already told my parents that I’m changing my eating habits. My father was horrified when I brought it up. He thinks I’m going to starve myself. I restrained myself from informing him that trading a packet of biscuits and sugary goodies for broccoli, is not starving myself, it’s saving my life. I suggested he join me, but dad...he’s old fashioned. He claims he gets his exercise when he herds his cattle at the cattle post. I’m sure by now they have already informed my sister about my lifestyle change. Mum says I’m being absurd and nonsensical. No, what’s nonsensical is them allowing me to get this big without consulting me first. Yes, I blame my parents for being fat. I would be skinny, if I knew what broccoli tastes like...well, I did have a taste a while ago and I felt like vomiting. The stuff is disgusting, in that it has no taste. It tastes like a watery leaf with hair on it, no wonder I gagged.
Ah, it’s all I think about now. The gym. It just further proves how pathetic and uneventful my life has been thus far. I have nothing to occupy my thoughts, since I cleared them up from the clutter. My life is much easier to deal with now that stalking Taboka is out of the equation. Shoot! I said his name. I have put five bucks in the No Stalking jar, Kate and I came up with. Every time we mention something about our past imaginary boyfriends, or even think about checking out their Facebook pages, we donate to the jar. At the end of the month we are going to use the money for shoe shopping. I think my jar is going to fill up faster than Kate’s. It’s going to make me broke too. I already got like a twenty in there or something. I have to look for these gym tracksuit pants I bought a while ago. I’m sure I put them in my wardrobe. If I can’t find them then my sister has them. She likes taking my things without my permission, to wear them when she’s in the house no how. I buy them to wear out, and she wears them to do her laundry. I feel very frustrated. I don’t want to look like an idiot on my first day at the gym...oh, there they are. That’ a relief. My tackies are clean and ready to go. I wonder if I should go to sleep early. I’m going to be there at six in the morning, and then rush to work before eight. Mum keeps calling me, I don’t know why. I’ll just ignore her, pretend I’m taking a nap. I’ll wear a t-shirt as part of my gym attire for now. Once I’m all trim and fit, bring on the tight fitting vests that will show off my six pack. Ugh! She’s still calling me. I should go and attend to her, or else I’ll never here the end of it.
Mum was lying comfortably on the sofa, watching a local debate show on television while dad was on the far end of the living room, reading a newspaper. I felt a tea errand coming up. You know, I hate making tea. I think at my age, and after so many years of doing it, I’m so over it. This is why I need to move out soon and go to college, and live a tea free life for a while.
“Yes mum?” I said, from behind the sofa. It is rude, talking to someone older than me from behind. She’s probably going to hint it, but I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m in an independence mood and all my morals have gone out the window, I guess. Fine, I’ll walk over to the front of the sofa.
“Celeste dear, I just wanted to let you know that this weekend we are all going home to the village. The elders have called for a phekolo and we all need to be there. It is part of the reason why your sister’s coming,” she said after reducing the volume from the television.
Home? The village? Great, just great! I have a trip to Kalamare this week which I have no say in. A phekolo is a traditional cleansing ritual performed by families to get rid of all the bad karmas or curses that may befall the family or someone in the family. The whole family gathers at home, and we slaughter a beast as a sacrifice to the gods, to remove any bad luck or curses from the family. They bring in traditional doctors to run the whole thing and then we eat the cow meat during a big feast. Then everyone goes back to their daily lives the next day. But why is it so impromptu this time? The elders always give us a heads up a month before the ritual. Don’t they get that some of us are just beginning to have lives? I have to go to the gym and concentrate on my weight loss, you know. I had planned that the next time I saw the extended family, I’d be thinner and they’d all crowd around me throwing compliments at my slimmer waist line. But it’s probably for the best, my rakgadi (aunt) Bontle (my older sister is named after her), would be devastated if she saw me slim. She always says that I have the family bone structure, big and full figured, all the women were. Yes, and they all have diabetes, she never mentions that. Another thing, I’m going to be forced to eat the meat that is going to be offered to the gods as a sacrifice...uh-hum! Does the term vegetarian mean anything to these people? If my mother really cared about my new lifestyle, she wouldn’t be forcing me to go to Kalamare and feast on cholesterol infested flesh.
“Kate won’t mind running the store alone on Friday and Saturday, right?” mum asked. “We leave on Friday morning.”
Yes, she will mind. Running a busy boutique like ours is hard work. Okay, maybe it’s not that busy. “No, I’m sure she won’t mind,” I replied.
“She’ll close it down if she finds it hard to bear.”
I just said that she won’t mind. But I nodded anyway and proceeded to leave the living room and flee to my bedroom, to think about my ruined plans of a happy beginning to the rest of my life. I’d hoped that thinking this much wouldn’t make me into a mental drama queen.
“Would you make us some tea, dear; me and your father,” mum called out.
I let out a mental scream. Ugh! I knew it. I wonder why they love tea so much. They have like ten cups between them every day. Maybe it’s what retiring does to a person: you drink tea and sleep all day. Rooibos, my nightmare! I don’t like how it tastes. I wonder if it can help a person lose weight. I mean, it’s tea; it must have some function beneficial to the body. Rooibos. I’ll search for it later on the internet. Maybe then, making tea won’t be such a chore. I gave my mother her cup of tea and she immediately started slurping, like it was a delicious cup of ice-tea. I think after drinking so many cups of tea like my parents have, the tongue becomes tough and resistant to heat. I mean, it’s boiling hot, and she’s drinking it like it’s not. I personally would wait for it to cool down first. Dad also downs the stuff like its cold. Maybe it’s a skill.
“There you go, dad.” I handed him his cup and he thanked me for my troubles. He didn’t take his eyes off the newspaper he was reading. Hang on, that’s it, that’s the newspaper with the makeover entry form in it. I hope the promotion hasn’t expired or there is actually an entry from in there. Kate is going to love me for this. “Dad,” I called, hovering over him.
“Yes, what is it?” he replied, reaching for his cup. This time he looked up at me. I get the feeling it was so he could take a sip of tea and not because I was calling for his attention.
“May I disturb you for a second? There’s something I want in the newspaper you’re reading.”
He reluctantly gave way and handed me the newspaper. I don’t know why it’s hard for him to hand me the newspaper, it’s not like I’m proposing we go to the dentist and pull out one of his teeth.
“Dirang, are you done over there?” said mum.
Oh now I know why he’s reluctant, he’s avoiding mum. That’s almost funny. But why, mum has amazingly interesting company. All she talks about is the church, that’s interesting. I should hurry, so that I can give dad his lifeline back.
“Not yet, dear,” he replied.
Mum turned and resumed her attention back to her program. I have a feeling she’s looking for someone to discuss the on going debate on the television with her. That’s why she has the volume so high, so that dad can listen while he’s reading and then they can discuss the issue when he is done. I guess he’s just avoiding the competition. Mum can be pretty competitive. I don’t know why she chose to marry a man who likes living life behind the scenes.
When I found the entry form, my heart jumped in surprise, as if I’d spotted a free breakfast coupon from a local restaurant. But I guess it happens to a lot of us, when you are really looking for something, then you find it. It’s a great instantaneous feeling. Imagine if I’d missed it, or if it wasn’t in there; the frustration would begin to build up. I tore the page and shoved the newspaper into my father’s hands. He looked anxious to return back to his reading. And would you look at that, his tea cup is empty. I rushed out of the living room to avoid a request for a refill.
Chapter 7
Shit! I think I pulled something. I can hardly breathe because my lungs hurt. I’m no scientist, but I think they hurt because of all the air I breathed in while on the treadmill. Now I get it. The trainers, I get them. They were only nice because they wanted my money. Once I was in there, I saw ruthless and evil, that’s all I saw. As a signing up bonus, I get a free week of personal training, you know, to get me acquainted to all the vulgar machinery in the gym and to show me ways of exercising. I tried smiling at him so that he could go easy on me, but he stared me down and clicked his fingers at me, don’t know why.
“Let’s go, come on let’s go!” he screamed.
I was out of breath after like thirty seconds, just doing a fast walk on the treadmill. It’s a very peculiar machine. The ground is moving and I have to catch up with it. I felt weird just walking on it. Maybe I’m just weird, but I felt funny and paranoid. One day the world is going to be ruled by machines. I mean, whatever happened to running organically around a field? At least then I can decrease or increase my speed how I want it, instead of this constant nightmare. One time I reached out and tried to adjust my speed to something lower and manageable, and he slapped my hand. Yes, he did. Then he yelled at me, “That button is off limits, let’s go!” So rude, these people are. Maybe it’s because its 6:30 in the morning, he’s cranky, just like I am when I work early in the morning. Nope. I did not let his harshness get to me. I’m here for a reason and a good reason it is: I am losing this weight. I feel like such a sissy, being defeated on my first day. I dread the future, this is horrific.
Then Trevor, my trainer, he had me try out every machine in the gym. I shouldn’t have told him that I had two hours to work out. Those cycling spinning machines are just awful. It took me forever to climb on. And who came up with them anyway? The seat is not comfortable at all. He said I’ll get used to it, and that I had twenty minutes left on it though. Exercise is a bitch.
So after wiping down the sweat and changing into my work clothes (hey, I’m not taking a shower to wash off the sweat, I showered before I came to the gym. Besides, it’s weird taking a shower in a public place, where anyone enters. Maybe when I have a six pack, it won’t bother me that much.) I headed off to the post office. On my way out of the gym they all bid me farewell with smiles on their faces, all happy and warm. I comprehended them as being smug and evil.
“Don’t forget aerobics in the evening,” said my trainer, with his smile.
Screw you! I thought. I’m going over to the post office to mail Kate’s entry form for the makeover promotion. I have to buy a stamp first, I wish to find the place queue free and open, because I can’t be late for work. Sceptical mum wouldn’t borrow me her car in the morning. Ever since news of petrol prices soaring up, she’s been using that as her new excuse to avoid borrowing me her car. Dad’s gone back to the cattle post, so I can’t use his. I don’t get why she’s worried about petrol when her ancient sedan spends all its days parked away doing nothing. The cold is going to get the best of it. One day it just won’t start, I tell you. Then we’ll see what car she’s going to deny me when it’s not working...well hang on, that will be a disadvantage to me too. I guess it’s only good for going to church then.
Done, all done. My heart is very fragile of late, which is why being the only woman in a taxi filled with men discussing the football match results from the weekend, really makes me irritated when I shouldn’t be. I need to clear my head and not have it congested with information I don’t really know. Apparently the manager of the biggest soccer team in the country has been fired because the team is not delivering this year in any of the leagues. I have no idea what it means or implies or who he is, but I know it. The taxi driver and the three male passengers that were on it, with me squeezed in the middle of the back seat, were just going at it, the topic. Some were against the poor manager being fired and others were just outraged by the team’s downfall to even care about someone losing their job. The man sitting on my left even almost poked my eye at one point, expressing his views with his hands. He was the one angry about the poor performance. By the time I arrived and got out of the taxi, all squeezed up, I’m pretty sure I knew all the stats of the very famous team and how the game went during the weekend. My clear mind had soaked it all up. Another reason why I should be driving the antique my mother calls a c
ar.
I got a sense of normalcy when I spotted Kate through the store window, packing away some files into a cabinet behind her beloved counter. She’s organising as usual and she’s in...brown today? I thought brown was the colour for Thursday. I can’t wait to hear all about it. I flung the doors wide open and made a grand entrance. Okay, maybe I didn’t put as much energy into it. I merely used the last strength I had left in my muscles to force the door open, and hauled myself into the shop.
Kate giggled when she saw me. “That bad, huh?” she said, followed by yet another giggle.
“No, it was fantastic!” I replied. I don’t get why me being in critical pain is so funny.
“I’m wearing brown today because I’ve decided to shuffle up the colours this week. It’s part of me being spontaneous.” Kate looked very satisfied with herself.
After hearing her reason, which by the way, I hadn’t asked for yet, I guess she just couldn’t wait to explain to me why she was wearing all brown today instead of all blue. Anyway, I kept on reminding myself that this would be over soon, as soon as the entry form arrived and someone decided to give her a fashion rescue. Let her see the light from her transgressions.
I told Kate about the phekolo this weekend. Of course she has no problem with watching the shop alone. She even thought it’s going to be fun, with me surrounded my close relatives and catching up.
“It’s such a shame that we are going to miss girl’s night out,” she said, helping me fold tops on sale.
“I know. It’s taking so much from our schedule. At least my sister will be there to help take the weight off hanging out with mum and dad.” My arms were so stiff from the morning workout, I could barely fold anything.
“We can always have girls night’s out on the Sunday.”
“Yeah, like mum is going to agree to borrowing me her car on Sunday night,” I said, leaning against the table. “Do you mind if I sit, I think I’m about to pass out.”
Being Celeste Page 5