Mma Ramotswe looked down at her plate. She did not think that she ate too much—if one excluded cake and doughnuts and pumpkin, and perhaps a few other things—and the fact that she was traditionally built was just the way she was. And yet there was no doubt but that she could afford to shed a few pounds, even if only to avoid the embarrassment which had arisen the other day when she had stooped to sit down on her office chair and the seams of her skirt had given way. Mma Makutsi had been tactful about this, and had pretended not to hear anything, but she had noticed and her eyes had widened slightly. There were many arguments in favour of being traditionally built, but it had to be said that it would be pleasant if these digs from other people could be headed off. Perhaps there was an argument for going on a diet after all and showing everybody that she could lose weight if she wanted to. And of course what they said about diets was that you had to start straightaway—the moment the idea crossed your mind. If you put it off, and said that your diet would start the following day, or the following week, then you would never do it. There would always be some reason why it was impossible or inconvenient. So she should start right now, right at this very moment, while the tempting plate of stew lay before her.

“Motholeli and Puso,” she said, sitting up straight in her chair. “Would you like the stew on my plate? I do not think I am going to eat it.”

Puso nodded quickly and pushed out his plate for the extra portion, and his sister soon followed his lead. Mr J.L.B. Matekoni, though, looked at Mma Ramotswe in astonishment. He lowered his fork to his plate and let it lie there.

“Are you not feeling well, Mma Ramotswe?” he asked. “I have heard that there is something going round the town. People are having trouble with their stomachs.”

“I am quite well,” said Mma Ramotswe. “I have just decided that from now on I shall eat just a little bit less.”

“But you will die,” said Puso anxiously. “If you do not eat, then you die. Our teacher told us that.”

“I am not going to stop eating altogether,” said Mma Ramotswe, laughing at the suggestion. “Don’t worry about that. No, it’s just that I have decided that I should go on a diet. That is all. I shall eat something, but not as much as before.”

“No cake,” said Motholeli. “And no doughnuts.”

“That is right,” said Mma Ramotswe. “Next time Mma Potokwane offers me any of that fruit cake of hers, I shall say, ‘No thank you, Mma.’ That is what I shall say.”