Chapter 5: Finding Your Inner Cave


The following day, Gene decided to walk over to Diet Club by himself, so he could attend Lyn's support group and meet other people who were suffering under her restrictive diet program. Gene had to tighten his belt by another notch, because he was rapidly losing weight as a result of another bout of severe nausea that woke him up in the middle of the night. He knew that this couldn't go on much longer.

"Why, hello, Gene! You're looking thinner already!" The white-clad nurse excitedly greeted Gene the second he entered the waiting room. He wondered if she had a closet full of those outfits. "You're just in time for... The Meeting."

Three unspeakably skinny young women, whom Gene guessed were all between the ages of 14 and 20, sat and read fashion magazines in the waiting room, all the while mumbling about reaching their ideal weights as if delirious. Each woman had a zombie-like glint in her eyes. Gene started to think this was less of a weight loss center, and more of a bizarre evil cult. He took a seat in the back, while Lyn took a whiteboard and a black marker out of a nearby supply closet, wrote "GOALS" on the whiteboard in very large block letters, and sat down in the front of the waiting room, facing all of her clients.

"All rightee! Today, we're going to talk about why we're all here, and what GOALS we all want to accomplish!" Lyn motioned to the word "GOALS" on the whiteboard as she said it. Gene immediately figured out what Today's Secret Word was.

"We'll start with you over there," Lyn chirped, pointing to the woman on the left side of the room.

"My name is, like, Rachel, and I'm 19 years old y'know, and I'm here because, like, my boyfriend said that I was, like, putting on a little weight. So he'd TOTALLY get me a new car if I, like, lost 20 pounds in the next week! Like, oh my gosh! I couldn't say no to that football-playing stud!"

"Well, Rachel, it's important to have someone in your life who is supportive of your health. And you'll be driving that new car in no time! Diet Club's patented 'Vitaciser' capsules have been proven to burn off hundreds of pounds in weeks!" Lyn, ever the entrepreneuse, never missed an opportunity to plug her company's products. She then pointed to the girl sitting next to Rachel, who looked like she just graduated from junior high.

"My name is Amy and I'm 13, and I joined Diet Club because I think I could stand to be skinnier. Because when I get older and get interviewed for jobs and colleges, I want to really impress the interviewer with an hourglass shape!"

Lyn clapped, and urged for the rest of the group to clap as well. They all did, except for Gene, who couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Bravo! Wonderful! Here we have a little girl who's so young, yet so eager to make plans for her own future! I salute you, Amy! Next!"

"I'm Maya, I'm 16, and I'm fat. At least that's what all the girls have been telling me throughout my entire school career. And I think it's the reason why no boy has ever asked me out to a dance. Or maybe it's because I can't dance, but I'm sure my weight's a bigger reason."

"Well, Maya, the reason why boys are staying away from you is because you lack confidence in yourself. And the best way to gain confidence is to achieve your optimum body image, or OBI. Diet Club can help you reach your OBI, especially if you take three of our 'Vitaciser' capsules before every meal!" Again with the advertisements and PC acronym buzzwords.

Gene looked around the waiting room for any hidden cameras, thinking this was actually an elaborately staged infomercial and that Rachel, Amy, and Maya were just actresses.

"Oh, and just for the curious," Lyn said, her eyes on Gene, "this is not an elaborately staged infomercial, and none of the people present here today are actresses. They are all actual clients of Diet Club."

Gene was sweating. Was Lyn really able to read his thoughts, or was it just an uncanny coincidence? "So, Gene, since you seem so anxious to share why you're here with the other members, why don't you go next?"

"All right. My name is Gene, I'm probably the only male client in the history of your business, and I find it rather interesting that these ladies want to lose weight even though they look slim enough to begin with."

Gene was afraid Lyn would fly into a rage after hearing him say exactly what she didn't want him to, but he was surprised to see a smile appear on her face. Lyn was intrigued; she never had a client who posed a possible threat to her absolute authority. She never had a client who was actually happy with his body image. She never had a client whose spirit had not yet been broken by a society obsessed with men that had washboard abs and women whose clothing size numbers were fractions.

And, for some warped reason, she liked it. She seemed a little turned on, even. She enjoyed a challenge, and she wanted to break Gene's spirit by herself.

"So, Gene, tell me. Is there a lot of stress in your life?"

"Why, yes. Insurmountable stress. Especially with school, and my parents."

"Do you feel that the only way to cope with the agony of your day-to-day life, is to eat?"

"Amazing, Nurse Lyn! How did you know?"

Lyn winked at Gene. "For a lady who graduated at the top of her medical school class, being able to discern what goes on in these situations is only natural."

The other women clapped, in awe of Lyn's gift of analysis.

"Now," the professional continued, "since we spent more time than expected on the introductions, I thought I'd go straight to a little psychological exercise. I call it the 'Stomach Chakra'. Now, ladies and gentleman, close your eyes, and relax all your muscles... Empty your mind of all but my voice..."

At first, Gene was reluctant to follow Lyn's instructions, but the hypnotic, almost chant-like quality of her voice made his consciousness gradually fade.

"We're inside ourselves, we're inside ourselves... We open the door and we step further inside... We're in our stomachs..."

Gene saw a vision of what it was like inside his stomach. Pink, pulsating muscular walls, oozing rivulets of Diet Club salad dressing and stomach acid, which were almost one in the same. At the bottom was a pool of this pungent-smelling acidic goo, with leaves of partially digested lettuce and spinach floating on the surface like lilypads.

"Now, imagine your hunger as a white ball of filling light. That's right, the hunger itself is a ball of filling light. It moves over your body, filling you with love and spiritual nourishment. Keep this going and step forward, through the back door of the room. Where does it lead? To your cave. Step forward into your cave."

Gene's imagination was in full blast at this moment. He found himself inside a vast cave of ice.

"That's right. You're going deeper into your cave. And you're going to find your spirit animal..."

Gene saw a rather large dog sitting on an iceberg in a lake of frozen water. The dog had light gray fur, a circular light purple nose, and a tuft of shaggy fur covering his eyes. He looked at Gene and waved his paw to signal Gene forward.

"Food," the dog intoned in a deep voice.

The dog jumped off the iceberg and across the frozen lake, and landed on the frosted soil ground. He then ran away.

"I have GOT to stop watching HBO and the Cartoon Network before I go to bed," Gene said to himself.





Gene was released from his trance when Rachel tapped his left shoulder. In a flash, the image of the ice cave was replaced by the Diet Club's waiting room. "Like, Gene, the session's over, you know. Time to, like, leave, n'stuff."

Lyn was delivering her closing speech. "That's all for this week, my friends. See you next time, and remember: The things you eat end up eating you!"

Gene sat in his chair, watching Lyn say goodbye to Rachel, Amy, and Maya. He wondered what their cave visions and "spirit animals" were.

Lyn walked over to Gene, who was still sitting down. She took the chair right next to him. "There something troubling you, Gene?"

"Well, Nurse Lyn, I've been having some problems since I started this program yesterday."

"Just Lyn will do. Tell me, what are these problems you've been having?"

"Severe nausea and diarrhea, for starters. It got so bad yesterday after dinner that I fainted while still in the bathroom."

"That often happens to people just starting my program. Your body's just getting used to the new chemicals in the 'Vitaciser' capsules, as well as a new diet and a new way of life."

"Thanks, Lyn. I thought there was poison in the salad dressing or something."

"What what what?? Poison!? Why would a trained health professional, whose only aim is to help her clients, want to poison them?"

"That's what I thought, too, but I've never been so violently ill before."

"Again, it's the standard reaction. These bouts of nausea and diarrhea will soon subside. Also, Gene, can I make a suggestion?"

"What?"

"I know you probably don't want to offend any of my other customers, but I notice you have a bit of a body odor problem. Tell me, what kind of deodorant do you use?"

"I don't, Lyn. They always make my armpits break out in a rash. I've tried every brand on the market, but the same thing always happens."

"Well now, Gene, let's put things in perspective. On one hand, you save your own armpits, yet everyone in a hundred-foot radius has to inhale your stench. On the other hand, you get a few itchy welts under your arms, but the people around you don't have that atrocious cowfield smell bombarding their nostrils. So tell me, in which of the two situations would the greater number of parties benefit?"

"Look, Lyn, you're a trained medical professional. Don't you think it's part of your job to advise your patients to avoid things that may be hazardous to their health?"

"You're forgetting the most important thing, my not-so-little friend, which is: Trained medical professionals have noses. End of discussion, see you next week."

Gene walked out of the office, furious over Lyn getting the last word. He decided to walk to the Manhasset Public Library and check his e-mail from one of the Internet terminals. On the way, he pondered the possible significance of that purple-nosed dog.