Bikini Season Read Online Free Page B

as much as we do. You sit at a desk all day, and I don’t exactly run laps at the shop. That doesn’t burn calories.”
    He stood in front of the microwave, watching the potatoes heat and shaking his head. “I don’t know why they can’t just give you some medicine or something. There’s nothing worse than a stick-straight, skinny-ass woman.”
    Did Lionel have any idea how many pounds she’d have to lose to fit that description? “Believe me, I’ll never be that.”
    He returned to the table and set the bowl of potatoes between them.
    Kizzy’s potatoes were never just plain mashed potatoes. They oozed garlic and butter and sour cream. Now the aroma of garlic danced around her nostrils.
    â€œOne bite won’t kill you,” said Lionel, as he heaped a carbohydrate mountain on his plate. He dug the spoon into the bowl then flicked a dollop on hers.
    He went back into the bowl for more and Kizzy moved her plate out of range. “Lionel, you are not helping.”
    He let the spoon fall into the bowl and frowned. “I suppose you’re not going to eat any of that candy I brought home.”
    â€œI’ll have one piece,” she said, just to please him.
    He barely looked mollified. “Those are Godiva, you know.”
    It had been a nice gesture. She sighed. “I know, and I’ll have one. But don’t bring me any more after this. You understand?”
    Beaming, he reached over and opened the box.
    Three candies later, Kizzy was disgusted with both herself and Lionel. She was going to have to make some big changes.
    And there was one way to start. After he left the kitchen she grabbed the half-full box and marched to the garbage can, Gus padding after her. She stomped on the pedal at the base of the metal can and the lid popped open like a giant Muppet mouth just waiting to get fed. All she had to do was dump in the candy.

    She took her foot off the pedal, letting the lid fall back down with a disappointed clang. It was plain wasteful to throw out chocolates. She stood, looking at the garbage can. The only way she was going to stay out of these was to toss them.
    Gritting her teeth, Kizzy opened the can again. She emptied the box into the garbage and the lid clanged shut. The moment felt depressingly symbolic. Life as she knew it was ending.
    But at least she still had a life, she reminded herself, and she needed to do all she could to make sure it was a healthy one.
    The first step to that would be getting some new mean, lean recipes into her repertoire. From now on her famous potato salad and fried chicken would have to be infrequent visitors in the Maxwell house. And those mashed potatoes Lionel loved so much would have to turn into salads. She sighed. Oh, well, cooking should always be an adventure, and it was time for a new one.
    Cooking. Adventure. Oh, rats. She was probably going to have to disband her cooking club. It had started a year ago when Angela Baker, her neighbor up the street, had begged Kizzy to take her and some friends under her wing and turn them into kitchen goddesses. It hadn’t taken too much begging, since Kizzy loved to cook. And she loved food. So, it turned out, did the women who came to her house once a month. They always wound up with something fattening on the menu.
    First the chocolates and now cooking club. Life sucked.

Three
    E ach month the cooking club picked a meal theme, usually featuring cuisine from a different region or country, but tonight’s menu was comfort food, and everyone was bringing her favorite. Angela had volunteered to make the main course. Her old friend Megan was making an appetizer and Erin was bringing bread. And for dessert Kizzy had baked a chocolate cake that could zap five pounds on a girl’s hips simply for looking at it. That was going to be hard to stay out of.
    Comfort food had been a good choice for tonight, she thought, remembering her chat with the doctor, a time