the other friend, the other city (m)

Here is how my days begin and end:

Lyn: Did you write, yet?

Me: Uh, no.  I’m going to, though.

Lyn: You are just like Alexander! You keep saying you’re going to do something and you don’t.

Me: I was busy today.  I had to take the car in to be serviced.  Then I had a meeting.

Lyn: Well, you said you were going to write and I changed my entire blog from NYC Diarist to Two Friends, Two Cities.  So far, it’s just me.  One friend, one city! I feel foolish.  People are asking about where the other friend is.

Me: Who?  Who’s asking?  Last I checked, we have a fan base of three people.

Lyn: No!  That’s not true, we have people from all over the world reading this blog!

Me: Yeah, we’re global.  Good one.

Lyn: Seriously.  You owe me this. 

She almost had me there.  Yet, still, I found excuses night after night.  Until today.

What drew me in?  You, dear reader.

When Lyn called to read me her entry for today—the one about the infected zit on her private part—I felt I had to step in and divert your attention somehow.

I’m back.

By way of introduction, I am “M.”  I prefer not to give my name out.  I took down my Facebook account as I got harassed by people from my past—a former prom date who wanted to sell me dental insurance, for example.  I prefer to be anonymous.

The other city?  Doesn’t matter.  From Lyn’s geo-centric point of view, if it’s not New York (which she calls The City), it doesn’t quite measure up.  

Our first blog was about our weight loss journey on Weight Watchers.  I lost 70 pounds which is probably 62 pounds at this point.  More on that later.

I stopped writing when I stopped losing weight.  What was the point if it was supposed to be about losing weight?  I felt disingenuous.

Also, life got in the way.  Four weddings, two graduations (both sons), a move to New York (older son), a sports competition in France (younger son), a family feud (brother/aunt), a houseguest from Italy for a month followed by a case of tendonitis from chopping vegetables for four weeks for the salad-loving guest.  A case of bursitis from holding the strap in the back of the van as the mad-cap French driver swung us through the Alps. An almost job with a yogurt company.  A health scare with brown urine (my cousin put a chemical in the toilet at our aunt’s house…I had Lyn scouring the internet for possible conditions which caused this phenomenon).

Now, you are all caught up.

See you tomorrow.

With love,

M