Numbers are not everything

Photo courtesy - Google

"One french apple cake, Please", the sentence wrooms out of my mouth and S starts getting mentally prepared for another twenty minutes of nothing- to-do-but- just-to-sit session in the cafeteria. It is crowded today and there are whirls of people moving around. There are unintelligible human voices everywhere and we have to shout to make the other one listen. S is healthy-turning-plump girl-turning-lady trying to improve her maths using arithmetic of calories. S has said a prompt 'no' to most of the eatables in the menu and is trying to eat some salad which as i found out had only boiled vegetables in it. How she manages to eat 'that' is something i will never understand and i will prefer to be fat than eating 'that'. The cake arrives and we see that there are four cherries they have put in for garnish. I nod my head towards S prompting her to taste the cake. She says,'no', rolling her round face sideways. I carefuly lift one cherry in a spoon and give it to her. She takes the cherry while trying to hide her reluctance and puts it into her mouth. Two seconds pass. She cant hide her face becoming cheerful as the sweetness spreads in her mouth. The cherry is finished, and she looks around helplessly, desperately fighting thoughts of eating more. I push the plate towards her side and her patience is lost. She picks up the spoon again and cuts a small bite. I am fighting like a kid to eat as much as i can, competing with her and simultaneously acting like a grown up not to show that i am fighting. The cake is finished and S is drowned in guilt feeling. She looks miserable but i manage to divert her attention towards a nice couple sitting there. We laugh like two college going girls and we start walking back to the office. There is a weighing machine near the door, i see that, i dont want S to feel more guilty so i try to rush ahead but after few paces i look back and i see S standing on the scale with gloomy dark clouds on her face.
Next morning i get a call from S, asking me if she can join me for jogging and,"if you can wait till i come there...?". I say OK and she arrives fifteen minutes later wearing a purchased-with- enthusiasm-but-never- worn-before tracksuit. We start. I actually dont jog but out of habit i run and being tall adds to my pace. Since it is her first time, i try to keep in pace with her so as to make her feel comfortable. She jogs awkwardly and her motion is something in between running and galloping. I try to ignore faces of people looking at us. Hardly two hundred meters and S is red in face and she is struggling for breath. I stop and make her sit. She prompts me to go ahead till the time she rests. I give a sigh of relief without showing it and finish my usual two kilometers track. When i come back i see S has made a face that looks like a lost child on a busy street. She is almost in tears and after seeing me she is actually in tears. She tries to talk but what comes out is just some strange sounds. I take her home, make her drink some orange juice. "You know asmi, i thought if i jog like you everyday i will also be like you",she says.
I didnt tell her that i dont gain weight even if i dont run for months and even if eat like a dog. Thats the way my body is. Better to keep her hope than to disappoint her. S came for jogging for a week and then stopped. She has gained a couple of pounds lately. Had she come regularly.....well.....i dont know..... :)