Pass the Salt
by Alasdair McPherson
Genre: Humour
Swearwords: None.
Description: Successful slimming can be as traumatic as failure.
_____________________________________________________________________
“Harry?”
“Yeah – is that you, Sis?”
“Of course it’s me, who else would it be?”
“OK, so I don’t have an army of friends like you have. Your voice sounds funny, that’s all. Do you have a cold?”
“I’m crying, you pillock!”
“What are you crying about, Sis? Is it something I’ve forgotten to do? Is it about the holiday? Only 70 days then we’re off to sunny Luxor!”
“It won’t be much of a holiday for me! You know I was on a diet so I would look good in a bikini? Well it worked.”
“You must be the only woman I know who cries because she has lost weight!”
“Let’s face it, me and mum are the only two women you know, if you don’t count that fat cow at the Tesco check-out that chats you up every Friday.”
“OK, OK, so I am a bit naïve about women, but it is still really odd for you to be crying because your diet has been a success, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, well, the problem is that I’ve lost so much weight that my skin is hanging in folds. What can I do? I don’t want to get fat again just to fill up the slack – it was hard enough losing the flab in the first place. But I don’t want flaps of empty skin hanging over my bikini bottoms.”
“God Sis, that sounds dire. Let me think for a minute. I’ve been reading a lot of stuff about Ancient Egypt and there is something in this book I’m on now that might help. Just hang on a minute.”
Silence on the phone except for occasional sniffs and gulps from one end and pages being leafed through from the other.
“Got it, Sis! Can you still get access to industrial chemicals through that mate of yours?”
“Harry, what the hell have my contacts got to do with yards of loose skin tripping me up when I get out the shower?”
“OK, just listen to this – its from a book about what they did in Egypt a couple of thousand years ago: ‘First they treated the’ … let’s say the patient… ‘with natron to dry and shrink the skin.’ That sounds just what you need, Sis.”
“Oh yeah, and I suppose I just phone Fizers and order an ounce of natrica…”
“Natron, Sis, not what you called it. This book says that you can still get it – it’s a salt, sodium carbonate decahydrate apparently, and they used to dig it out of the desert. And you’ll need more than an ounce: the Egyptians used it by the bath-full although the stuff they used might not have been very pure.”
“OK, Harry, I’m sorry I shouted at you but I really do want to look my best on holiday. How do you use this natron stuff?”
“It doesn’t say but you could get some and experiment a bit, I suppose.”
Two weeks later.
“This is Hilary. I’m not at home right now so please leave me a message after the beep.”
“Sis, this is Harry. I read a bit more of that book I was telling you about. You should be very careful with natron, like, use it in very small doses. The old Egyptians only used it to preserve dead bodies. Still, I don’t suppose it will do you much harm if you are careful to keep the dose very small. I’m really looking forward to the holiday, Sis. See you soon.”
Eight more weeks and the scene changes to a hotel swimming pool in Luxor: time nine am.
“I can’t thank you enough, Harry for that tip about natron. It tightened up all the loose skin.”
“That’s great, Sis, so how about losing the slacks and t-shirt so we can see the result. Give the world a first glimpse of your newly streamlined body.”
As Hilary stripped to her miniscule bikini and did a twirl in front of her waiting mother and brother, she told them:
“I started with a solution of natron rubbed on with a cloth but I soon found that it worked best when I did like the pharaohs and bathed in the stuff.”
There was a pause after she had stripped, revealing a skeletal shape articulated by ropes of sinew. The pause lengthened to almost a minute before her mother spoke.
“God Hilary, what have you done to yourself? You make a prune look smooth-skinned. Even you wrinkles have wrinkles!”
“I told you to go easy with the natron, Sis!”
Swearwords: None.
Description: Successful slimming can be as traumatic as failure.
_____________________________________________________________________
“Harry?”
“Yeah – is that you, Sis?”
“Of course it’s me, who else would it be?”
“OK, so I don’t have an army of friends like you have. Your voice sounds funny, that’s all. Do you have a cold?”
“I’m crying, you pillock!”
“What are you crying about, Sis? Is it something I’ve forgotten to do? Is it about the holiday? Only 70 days then we’re off to sunny Luxor!”
“It won’t be much of a holiday for me! You know I was on a diet so I would look good in a bikini? Well it worked.”
“You must be the only woman I know who cries because she has lost weight!”
“Let’s face it, me and mum are the only two women you know, if you don’t count that fat cow at the Tesco check-out that chats you up every Friday.”
“OK, OK, so I am a bit naïve about women, but it is still really odd for you to be crying because your diet has been a success, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, well, the problem is that I’ve lost so much weight that my skin is hanging in folds. What can I do? I don’t want to get fat again just to fill up the slack – it was hard enough losing the flab in the first place. But I don’t want flaps of empty skin hanging over my bikini bottoms.”
“God Sis, that sounds dire. Let me think for a minute. I’ve been reading a lot of stuff about Ancient Egypt and there is something in this book I’m on now that might help. Just hang on a minute.”
Silence on the phone except for occasional sniffs and gulps from one end and pages being leafed through from the other.
“Got it, Sis! Can you still get access to industrial chemicals through that mate of yours?”
“Harry, what the hell have my contacts got to do with yards of loose skin tripping me up when I get out the shower?”
“OK, just listen to this – its from a book about what they did in Egypt a couple of thousand years ago: ‘First they treated the’ … let’s say the patient… ‘with natron to dry and shrink the skin.’ That sounds just what you need, Sis.”
“Oh yeah, and I suppose I just phone Fizers and order an ounce of natrica…”
“Natron, Sis, not what you called it. This book says that you can still get it – it’s a salt, sodium carbonate decahydrate apparently, and they used to dig it out of the desert. And you’ll need more than an ounce: the Egyptians used it by the bath-full although the stuff they used might not have been very pure.”
“OK, Harry, I’m sorry I shouted at you but I really do want to look my best on holiday. How do you use this natron stuff?”
“It doesn’t say but you could get some and experiment a bit, I suppose.”
Two weeks later.
“This is Hilary. I’m not at home right now so please leave me a message after the beep.”
“Sis, this is Harry. I read a bit more of that book I was telling you about. You should be very careful with natron, like, use it in very small doses. The old Egyptians only used it to preserve dead bodies. Still, I don’t suppose it will do you much harm if you are careful to keep the dose very small. I’m really looking forward to the holiday, Sis. See you soon.”
Eight more weeks and the scene changes to a hotel swimming pool in Luxor: time nine am.
“I can’t thank you enough, Harry for that tip about natron. It tightened up all the loose skin.”
“That’s great, Sis, so how about losing the slacks and t-shirt so we can see the result. Give the world a first glimpse of your newly streamlined body.”
As Hilary stripped to her miniscule bikini and did a twirl in front of her waiting mother and brother, she told them:
“I started with a solution of natron rubbed on with a cloth but I soon found that it worked best when I did like the pharaohs and bathed in the stuff.”
There was a pause after she had stripped, revealing a skeletal shape articulated by ropes of sinew. The pause lengthened to almost a minute before her mother spoke.
“God Hilary, what have you done to yourself? You make a prune look smooth-skinned. Even you wrinkles have wrinkles!”
“I told you to go easy with the natron, Sis!”
About the Author
Originally from Dalmuir, Alasdair McPherson is now retired and living in exile in Lincolnshire.
He says he has always wanted to write, but life got in the way until recently. He has already penned two novels and is now trying his hand at short stories.
He says he has always wanted to write, but life got in the way until recently. He has already penned two novels and is now trying his hand at short stories.