The Weight Doctor

You know that little voice you hear in the back of your head before you eat something you know you probably shouldn't? Well my voice of reason is not so much a voice in the back of my head, but a voice that come from across my cubicle wall.

I should explain my unique sitting arrangement at my work. I sit at the only cubical that directly faces a co-worker. There is a window between these two cubicles which basically facilitates direct and constant eye contact with my fellow co-worker. It is quite unique and can prove to be quite annoying to have such constant interaction and monitoring from my neighbor.

Let me introduce you to my neighbor, Cameron:
Cameron is one of those guys that is all to aware of how good looking he is and takes great pride in it. He's the type of guy that goes on extreme diets, lives at the gym, has a membership to a tanning salon, whitens his teeth, dresses like a male model, etc. You know the type, right? I'm assuming the word "metrosexual" is running through your head right now.

Our friendship is one that I actually extremely enjoy, we are both brutally honest with each other and feel that we each of the duty of putting the other in their place. It sounds harsh (and most people who sit around us and hear us probably wonder why we are still friends) but we seem to have struck a balance with each of us having our say with each other.

He has deemed me his "moral compass" and up until his recent marriage, I took it upon myself to guide his dating life and judge those girls that so freely flowed in and out of his life. I thought I gave him pretty good advice and he ended up with a great girl.

To even this out, he has become my "Weight Doctor." When he comes in with his protein shake, cottage cheese, and granola bar, I sit and sip on my Diet Coke and eat whatever I might have for breakfast that day. This is where it all starts, right around Round 2 of Diet Coke, he tilts his head and pompously says "really?" Like I'm supposed to feel guilty for drinking another DC before 10:00? Wrong. When I bring in cookies or treats and I reach for my second one, again, I get the "really?" look glaring at me from across the wall.

At first I may have resented his comments, but now I embrace them. I simply smile, take another sip or bite and say "Yep!" When I'm feeling a bit vicious, I like to make him feel really bad by make a huge scene about him calling me fat (works every time).

It's actually kind of nice to have a physical reminder of the things I eat every day. I know he never means it personally and just uses it as one of his many ways to get a reaction out of me, but I'll take it and use it to my advantage.

I think you should all be jealous you don't have a Weight Doctor sitting across from you.