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My cousin Coralee started it all.This was during my sophomore year, when Coralee still lived down the streetfrom us and I still had to endure her presence in school each day. She reallycould be quite annoying.She was always jumping into something or other. First, when she was younger,it was ballet. Then it was martial arts. Then rock collecting…. No sooner did sheget involved in some interest or hobby than she grew bored and jumped to somethingnew. I often suspected she had the attention span of a fruit fly.Starting sophomore year, she was just recovering from her interest inskateboarding, when she became obsessed with nutrition and fitness.I was sitting with her in the lunchroom one day, and it was poof, likemagic, she was suddenly a health nut. All she had in front of her was a gardensalad, with no dressing, and a carton of skim milk, and the attitude that anybodywho ate anything more than that was violating the sacred temple of their body.“What’s that supposed to be?” I asked her.“My lunch?”“Yeah, is that what that is?”“Yeah,” she said.“Where’s the pizza?” I asked.“No pizza.”“There’s always pizza.”“Not anymore,” she said.“No? What happened?”“I found out what was in it,” she said. “I found out what was in a lot ofthings.”She ate her salad. I ate my enchiladas. I waiting for it, knowing it wouldcome, and sure enough it did.“You wanna know what’s in those enchiladas?” she asked.I thought about it for a microsecond, before I said, “No.”She stared at me, her eyes almost begging me to let her tell me.“I don’t want to know,” I said, and continued eating.Finally she could hold it back. She blurted out, “MGA.”“What?”“MGA.”“What’s that?” I asked.“That’s what’s in your enchiladas.”“Did I tell you I didn’t want to know?”“Oh, I thought you were just saying that, but secretly you really wanted toknow.”“No,” I said carefully, as though talking to a three-year-old, which wasn’tfar from the truth, “when I say I don’t want to know something I always mean Idon’t want to know something.”“Well, I just had to tell you,” she said.“No, you did not.”“Yeah, I did,” she insisted. “It was just too important. It was critical. Ifyou were about to step on a land mine and blow yourself into bloody little bits,I’d have to warn you. I mean, I could never just sit there and say nothing.”“What land mine?” I asked.“That enchilada is like a land mine.”“It is?”“Sure.”I paused to look at my enchilada, and said, “It doesn’t look like a landmine.”“That’s not what I mean.”“Coralee I almost never do know what you mean. Can I please just eat mylunch?”
 
“No, no, you can’t,” she said, getting all pushy now. “They put MGA in so ittastes better. My point is, you really don’t know what it tastes like, and the MGAis really bad for you.”“I don’t feel bad,” I said.She rolled her eyes, as though she were the one talking to a moron and notthe other way around. “Not now. But if you keep eating stuff with MGA in it-- youknow, in the long run-- well, it’s just not good for you.”“Yeah?”“Lisa, trust me on this. I did the research.”I eyed my enchilada, maybe just a bit suspicious now.“Why? What could happen?”“Well…” she started, and got flustered. It was obvious that she didn’t havea clue. “Well, nothing good.”“For example.”“I don’t know. That’s the scariest part; nobody knows for sure what couldhappen. Maybe your uterus will drop out one day. Who knows?”“What happens to guys, then?” I asked.“I’m just saying, why take a chance,” she said, getting irritated. “Hey, ifyou wanna eat the junk, go ahead-- what do I care?”She tried hard to ignore me, then, but I caught her taking sneaky looks atme now and then.After she finished her salad, she started digging through her purse. Shepulled out a small clear plastic pouch that was filled with different pills.I lunged across the table, trying to cover the tiny pouch with my handbefore anybody could see it.She started at me, wide-eyed with shock.“What?” she said.“What are those?”“Vitamins,” she said. “What do they look like?”“They look like a whole mess of pills you shouldn’t be carrying around inschool.”“They’re just vitamins,” she scoffed, shoving my hand away. “Nobody can sayanything about my taking vitamins.”I looked around the lunchroom. Everybody was too busy eating or talking orplaying with their cubes of green jello to notice Coralee. Really that was one ofthe good things about her: she was easily over-looked. She could probably stripnaked and run up and down the lunch line and hardly anybody would realize what washappening.Still I couldn’t help being unnerved.“Look,” she said, and dug out a pill. “This is B-complex. It’s good forinfections and your skin.” She set it on the tabletop and dug out another pill.“Vitamin C-- good for colds… Vitamin D-- good for bones….”“You got anything that’s good for insanity, because I think you need to popa few of those. What that one there?” I asked, fascinated because one of the pillswas incredibly large. “That humongous white,” I said, pointing at it.“Amino Acids,” she said.“You actually swallow that?”“Yeah, sure, it’ll make me feel better.”“Not if it gets caught in your throat, I won’t.”I watched in amazement, as she swallowed the pills one by one.“And those make you feel better?” I asked.“Well, not yet, but they will,” she said. “I’m still waiting for theaccumulative effect. You wanna try some?” she asked eagerly, again digging to thebottom of her purse.“Uh, no,” I said.“It’s no problem. I always have extras.”“That’s not the point,” I said. The point was that I never involved myselfin any of Coralee’s interests, not after the last time. She’d been all enthused
 
about hiking, and talked me into going with her once. It had seemed safe enough,but I ended up stepping in a gopher hole and breaking my ankle. Of course, itwasn’t really her fault, but I’d always taken the experience as a warning. “I justhate taking pills,” I lied, hoping she would accept the lame excuse.But she just ignored me, as usual, and slid a packet of vitamins at me.Before I could get her to take them back, she grabbed her lunch tray,muttered something about having to go somewhere before her next class, and left mesitting there, with a small extremely suspicious little baggie in front of me. Iwas forced to put it in my pocket before anybody noticed and I had to explaineverything about how they were just vitamins, vitamins I had never wanted, and howmy cousin Coralee was an incredible airhead who, for the most part, was harmless.I doubted that I could make it all sound very convincing.So, yeah, in the end, I took the vitamins. I was even a little proud that Isomehow managed to swallow the gynormous amino acid pill without choking to deathon it.The whole vitamin experience left me feeling rather stupid, though.I took the pills after I got home that day. I’d completely forget I had themin the pocket of my jeans, when I pulled them out, I almost threw them out. But Iwas afraid my parents might discover them, and end of thinking that one of theirkids was a turning into a pill-popping degenerate. Also, I was somewhat curious.Would these things actually make me feel better? And how? I really didn’t think Ineeded them. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with the way I felt normally.Still I wondered.I figured it couldn’t do any harm, so I took them.And absolutely nothing happened.I waited for a while. I couldn’t say exactly what I expected, but I didn’tfeel any different.So I did my homework, after which I paused for a long moment to try todetect some subtle change in my physical well-being. But nothing.For the rest of the day, until I finally went to bed, I stopped to assessmyself, only to determine that everything was normal.I fell asleep feeling as stupid as I had ever felt in my life.The next day, Fate itself seemed to be conspiring with Coralee against me.I met her as I did every day outside the lunchroom.As we took our places at the end of the lunch line, I told her straight out,“Look, I don’t want to hear anything about vitamins today, okay?”“Why, what happened?” she asked.“Nothing-- unless you count me waking up in the middle of the night becauseI’m belching these nasty belches that smell like rotten eggs.”“That’s from the B-complex,” she said.“I don’t care what it’s from. Just-- just not a word about vitamins.”She seemed vaguely hurt, and nodded meekly.As we started to slide our lunch trays down the stainless steel bars beforethe lunch counter, Coralee said, “I read somewhere that certain imbalances cancause a person to be grumpy.”“Yeah,” I snarled, “and so can having an idiot for a cousin.”
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Phantomimic

Funny and interesting, the psychology of fads and what motivates people to engage in some unhealthy practices is fascinating. Most individuals don't understand that if they eat balanced meals they do not need supplements. Others overdo the exercise and dieting and develop malnutrition.

reply09 / 02 / 2010
nmolinaropost

Great dialog. The irony makes it all the more interesting. Really good job.

reply12 / 09 / 2009
hatedhero

This is wonderfully written. I especially love the dialog sequences, they flow extremely well. Five stars.

reply12 / 04 / 2009
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