The Story of Rose, Brian and Xenical

They call it comfort food, thought Rose. Comfort food, comfort zones, comfortable shoes… meanwhile, the Xenical sat on top of the fridge like a prescription Jiminy Cricket, doing its silent guilt trip and making her shut the door on the chocolate ice cream. I am not going to give in, she told herself. I’m going to take the Xenical, and things are going to be different.

Two years ago when she took over the little current affairs radio show, she had thought she was in heaven, a landmark job at 30. Foxtail was a growing suburb of Seattle, and her station was growing, too, more than 500,000 watts. She could cover whatever stories she wanted, and radio was safe. There was never a need for Xenical or diets or desperate exercise regimens, not back then when she started. You’re in the booth, right? Talking to a world that couldn’t see you. That didn’t judge you.

Three months ago, however, at a bus stop, a guy in his twenties had recognized Rose voice when she bought a paper. For a moment she felt the tiny, vain thrill of celebrity until he said, "Wow, you don’t look like I imagined." The way he said it…

The unspoken punch line: you sound thin. You sound sexy. They don’t know, thought Rose, these callous idiots who can assassinate you with a word or a look.

She had cried at home that night, realizing she’d been happy until she knew there were other things to want, things she needed. To feel what it’s like to wear a size 6 dress. Sex in the dark without apologizing for her body, sex with someone she truly cared for and not a runner-up of lonely compromise. She had a lot of good reasons to see her doctor and get help, get a prescription for the weight loss medication, Xenical. It also might have had something to do with the radio station expanding into TV and some new on-camera positions coming up.

Or it could have been Brian.

Brian was blond, and he was good-looking, and he had a brain. They had actually gone to journalism school together in San Francisco, and she inherited the talk show from him. She remembered him sitting in the booth with her, his hand on her bare shoulder for encouragement as she did her first newscast and then going to commercial, him telling her, "God, I always said you’re a natural for radio." He had no clue about the electrical charge he gave her with that touch.

Brian. The kind of guy groomed for an anchor slot. A guy who confided his ambitions about being a network correspondent to her on a bench at night in the park because they were old friends, and how could he possibly feel any sexual tension? With her. Please fall in love with me, Brian, because I’m taking Xenical, and I will be thinner. If you’re patient.

Rose Takes Xenical

Three times a day she had to take the Xenical. Supposed to reduce her absorption of fat. And no, she didn’t rely on only that; she watched her calories, and she was taking long walks for exercise. She didn’t tell anyone about the Xenical because then she would have to admit that she wasn’t comfortable with her weight.

No, I am not happy with myself. Her talk show felt lately like little messages in bottles, bobbing on an airwave ocean, and who would find them? When I’m away from this microphone, no one sees or hears me, she thought. They don’t know that I can feel. And when they meet me, it’s always the face before the voice, the inspection of my body…

She sneaked her Xenical tablets as she ate her salad in the lunch room. She suffered with the mild side effects of pimples, but she kept up the Xenical treatment, and the side effects passed. Remember why you’re doing this.

The rumors were that Brian was having an affair with the station manager, Grace, a flinty brunette of 42 (and Rose could guess why the woman kept smoking, she had tried that appetite suppressant herself). It was Grace who told her point blank during her cigarette break that no, she wasn’t under consideration for the new TV jobs. "Read your contract, Rose… the clause about presenting a professional appearance." Rose felt like she’d been slapped.

"Look, we don’t want to lose you, Rose," added Grace, with the same tinsel smile she offered the station manager at budget time. "But you need to be realistic."

Realistic. Realistic means things won’t change unless I do, she thought. Bad enough that Brian had landed his transfer. He’d smiled and said, "Come on, Rose, it’s like an hour’s drive – we’ll still see each other." Yeah, sure.

As the weeks passed, she kept taking the Xenical and worked on her will power, tried the other self-encouragement tricks she’d heard about. She kept a photo of herself at her biggest weight posted on the fridge. She stuck to her menu plans and didn’t snack while watching TV. She knew the Xenical was working. She knew she could take a smaller dress size now, certainly not a 6 yet but still…

The dread didn’t stop, the dread of stupid jokes and ignorant remarks behind her back. Xenical was helping her body, yes, but she wondered sometimes if she were fooling herself. People don’t see me differently, she thought. Maybe it was because the change was gradual, invisible. Or maybe I haven’t learned to see myself differently. Not yet.

Xenical And A New Life

Brian called her up, saying he was driving in to Foxtail and could they get together? She had blurted out without thinking, "Don’t you need to be with Grace?"

"Uhh, no…" The unspoken question: why would I need that? They were friends – he hardly needed to cover with her. But she half-wondered if maybe their thing was over.

He swung by her apartment, and she threw her arms around him in a hug of friends, a bottle of wine waiting on the table so they could talk long into the night the way they used to. She didn’t bother putting away the Xenical on the fridge.

He found it while wandering into her kitchen looking for the corkscrew. "Xenical," he said, doing his best to keep a poker face.

"So you know what Xenical is for?" she asked with a note of defiance.

"I think it’s great," he replied, smiling, holding up the Xenical bottle. "Maybe it’s what helped me make a decision about you."

She took the Xenical away, put it on the counter and impulsively kissed him. He kissed her back, and oh, for a precious moment… eyes shut, soft lips, warmth. Then: he pulled away, a quiet admonition in his voice: "Rose…"

She nodded, feeling her face get hot with embarrassment.

"I know office relationships can be a disaster, especially on top of being old friends and–"

"Please, Brian," she said, her voice cracking. "Please no excuses or pity. Yes, I’m fat, and yes, I take Xenical because I’m sick of being fat! But I deserve honesty, and I know you’ve got Grace–"

"Hey, hey," he said, his hands on her shoulders. "The Xenical is working to make us see you differently, but it’s time you opened your eyes. One, I am involved with somebody, but it’s not Grace. Her name is Melanie, and she works at Motor Vehicles, and … Grace? You think I’d date a cold bitch like that?"

"But the rumor–"

"Brilliant journalist!" he laughed. "Get a confirmation next time! I really don’t believe in office romances." And before she could say the obvious, he added quickly, "Rose, they didn’t just make me anchor, they made me News Editor. I can hire who I want, and you’re good. You’re coming to Seattle – if you want to."

"Look, the Xenical’s working, but I’m not…" She wanted to say thin. Couldn’t. Couldn’t say it. Instead, she mumbled, "Presentable…"

He hugged her and said, "The Xenical is there to help, but you’re the one who makes you presentable. And I’ve seen you show a new confidence lately in your work, in the way you carry your show and yourself. Oh, and by the way, I took the liberty of showing your photo to the publicity department for the TV network. Now let’s see, how did those guys put it? Oh, yeah. "She’s hot."

She grinned and held up the Xenical, saying, "What if the camera really does add ten pounds?"

He opened the bottle of wine and poured. "That’s what they call character weight. Here’s to Xenical and you not hiding anymore in a booth."