Chocolate

I visit the Milk Bar around the corner from our apartment block about 3 times a week. You know, for the essentials:  soy milk for my coffee or the paper, and always a chocolate bar or a lolly. The Lebanese family who own it see me going for my  regular evening or morning runs and they wave at me.
The oldest daughter sells me candy, and without fail, greets me with "And how are we going with the exercise?!"

She can't be more than 14, but she has the presence of a much older woman: a powerful mama-type.  I look at the bar of chocolate in my hand (because I always have one!... or a sour fizzy stick or a bag of licorice allsorts or a piece of homemade baclava...) and stammer something about running only 3 km the other day instead of 5km ---  I feel lame.

Last night she greets me in her usual way. I respond with something awkward as I put my bar of  Lindt Chilli Chocolate on the counter, and then she asks "So have you lost any weight yet?" I think my jaw dropped. "Do I look like I should lose some weight?" I squeaked. She just shrugged her shoulders in her effortless Lebanese-mama way and I felt huge and undisciplined.

Fact: It's Bikini season somewhere in Australia. I'm going for a 5km. run today.