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Instead of preparing for the 9:00 AM appointment, Curt merely stared at the confusing mountain of revenue reports and loan forms that sat on his desk....No matter how hard he tried, Curt couldn't focus on them for any length of time. His mind kept returning to his fantasy woman and his wish to become her. In a fit of frustration, Curt pushed a stack of papers onto the floor."Goddamn it!" he said aloud. Curt lowered his head and began to sob, tears welling up in his eyes. "What's wrong with me?". I decided to ask her anyway, so a few minutes later I got around to it in a subtle way and she said she was eighteen.“I just look younger,” she said, brandishing her driving licence and obviously aware of why I asked the question. Her name was Marianne.“With two n’s and an e,” she said. “Lot of French influence around here.”The place closed at 10pm and she drove me to her uncle’s house, which was little more than a large shack in the woods. She introduced me to him and his friends, all rugged. Once confined to the nice safe ground of 130/80 or so, readings of 160/90 began to appear at my regular check-ups. My doctor told me it wasn't high enough that medication needed to be prescribed, but it had to come down. The secret to getting it down, I was told, was to reverse what was making it go up in the first place: my weight.Dieting didn't seem to help; it would merely slow down the advance a little. And in all honesty, I wasn't all that great at dieting anyway. I loved my carbohydrates. " She smiled, lips parting, as if remembering a old kiss.I touched my own tongue to my puffy lips, that I had coated and re-coated with lipstick minutes ago, almost unthinkingly. All I could do was giggle."Have fun Cindi!" She waved prettily, before she left.We spent a lot of time together, after that. She would sweep through from the finance wing, where Steven was a Senior VP, and stop by my cubicle in marketing, on her way back to her own huge office, and be soo nice, always complimenting on.
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