| |
No Springs - Honest Weight
By
R.G. Larsen
Andre’s entire nest egg was invested in new equipment packed into the carryall at his feet as he sat outside “Enchanting Reincarnations,” an upscale beauty salon. He rehearsed the spiel with which he intended to con the owner out of floor space and the salon’s patrons out of money and felt satisfied. He entered “Enchanting Reincarnations” displaying his best smile.
In ten minutes he had sold the entrepreneur on his qualifications as a nutrition and diet consultant, promising in return that patrons would be visiting bi-weekly, thus allowing the staff to sell more exfoliating creams and moisturizers. After one month, the store would be free to sell his product line of vitamins and minerals, which he would provide at seventy-five percent less than retail. In return, the salon would refer its clients to him and provide him with an area to conduct his consultations. A non-refundable application fee for each participant would not be shared.
Andre chuckled to himself. It was all so easy. People were so vain and salon operators routinely allowed him to fleece their customers. His previous efforts had required deft mechanical manipulations of a conventional scale. His new setup was digital, and bias could be induced covertly with a handheld remote device.
Mrs. Fettwunder was his first client the following morning. “Must I get on the scale, Andre?”
“Let me explain, Mrs. Fettwunder, you are not naturally overweight. Your body is trying to detoxify itself because you have shorted yourself on proper nutrients. You may not be eating enough of the right foods.”
“Not eating enough, you say?” Mrs. Fettwunder’s eyes grew wide.
“My program works by naturally detoxifying the body, scrubbing the intestines to loosen and free stored toxins.”
“It does?”
“More,” continued Andre, “It binds these toxins with fiber for better elimination, restores vitality to the liver so that it can cleanse thoroughly, and purifies the blood and lymph. Don’t you often feel stuffed although you haven’t eaten much, even bloated?”
“Well, yes, I do feel that way often.”
“My program will cure that and make you feel better than you have felt in years.”
“How much will this diet cost?” Mrs. Fettwunder asked.
“You can’t buy it,” Andre said.
“I don’t understand. Aren’t you selling a weight-loss program?”
“I’m afraid not. I am offering a nutritional plan. It isn’t a static thing because each person is different. I will modify your mix of nutrients every couple of days for a while and personally guide you through this process each week in a way that works for you. I won’t take any money now, but here is what I will do. If you will give me a commitment and follow my instructions for three days, I will prove to you that what I am offering works; moreover, it will work beyond your fondest dreams.”
“All right,” replied Mrs. Fettwunder.
“But we can’t go there until you step on the scale,” explained Andre.
So it went all morning and for the next several weeks. Andre passed out harmless nutritional agents while manipulating a digital control for his scale. For the first consultation, he racked it up three pounds, for the second visit, down two pounds, and for each subsequent visit, down a pound or two. Most clients signed contracts on their second visit.
He peddled various mixtures of Magnesium Hydroxide, Slippery Elm Bark, and Marshmallow Root. Often there was resistance against taking unfamiliar pills, so he swallowed the dosages himself, even an occasional diuretic that he touted as Vitamin-K. Subsequent weeks saw him ingesting L-Theanine, N-Acetylcysteine, Allicin, and Flax Oil. “Careful, Andre,” joked a client, “You are already thin enough.”
Each day before consulting, he stepped on the scale to make sure there were no malfunctions. Clicking his handheld control, he nudged the readings or down and thought of his swelling bank account. On the third morning he observed that he was down two pounds. “I need to eat more regularly,” he chided himself.
He popped pills and talked imprecisely about Omega-3 supplements, neurotransmitter attenuation, and Peppermint Leaf Extract. As he began his second week, his scale showed he had lost six pounds. He validated the weight loss on a home scale. His clients, too, were actually loosing weight. “I may need to patent this,” he thought.
The following week his weight was down twelve pounds, and he began to feel weak, a paler version of his former fit self. His energy was fading as well, and he had to reschedule some client’s appointments. He wondered, “Could I have really found the ultimate weight loss plan?”
He stopped demonstrating the harmless effect of popping nutritional pills and ate four times a day with snacks between meals. He lost another four pounds effortlessly. By the next week, his shirts no longer fit and he moved down from a size 32-inch waist to size 30.
By the following week, with his bank account fuller than it had been in months and the bogus weight loss for his clients nearing saturation point, he told the salon’s entrepreneur that he was taking some time off to visit his family in Florida. Once there he would call the salon and explain that is brother had been stricken by a rare tropical disease. Regrettably, he wouldn’t be able to come back.
His weight continued to drop. He had gone from 155 pounds to 138 in a matter of weeks. He looked poorly, felt ill, and hardly made it to the airport. On the plane, he sat next to a young woman, who made a practiced assessment after engaging him in dialogue. “Why don’t you take a few of these?” she suggested, shaking out a few pills into his hand and folding some others into a piece of paper for later.
“They always work for me, but be sure and drink lots of water.”
“How many of these should I take?” he asked.
“Spread them out evenly over three days.” Two hours later, he loosened his belt for comfort. When deplaning, he thanked her profusely. She wished him well. He already felt better but sensed he needed to find a public bathroom quickly.
The young woman, a veterinarian, had listened as Andre talked at length about his work while trying to impress her. She figured he probably contracted his illness by taking non-FDA approved off-the-shelf diet supplements. Mere salt tablets would pump up his thirst and help him re-hydrate. A powerful de-wormer would take care of the rest. He was in for a real intestinal scrubbing and probably needed to stop taking whatever he took so as not to re-infect himself with tapeworms. “Some manufacturers were so unethical,” she thought. “The authorities really have to crack down on these frauds.”
Copyright © 2005 R.G. Larsen
|
