I want to name them, she told herself. I want to talk. I want to tell.

“What’s wrong with this picture?” Marissa held up both arms for Heather’s examination.

Heather studied Marissa from her seat behind the reception desk. “I’m not sure.”

“My sleeves are too tight. And the calves of my slacks are too.” As hard as she tried, Marissa couldn’t keep a whining note out of her voice.

“But that’s one of your favorite blouses. You wear it all the time.”

“I think,” Marissa said with a frown, “I’m lifting too many weights. I like the muscle but so far none of the fat seems to have gone away.”

“Are you overdoing it? You go two more days a week than I do.”

“I guess I must be but I’m following their accelerated program,” Marissa said uncertainly. She was motivated, she was careful about what she ate and she hadn’t been rigorous in meeting her goals—all for nothing. “I know Pinny said muscle weighs more than fat and I’ve gained five pounds. But when does the fat start burning off?”

In the act of checking for her mail, Bianca said, “I saw an ad for some pills last night. They never said what was in them except it was all natural. Yeah, well, I was thinking that arsenic is all natural too. Anyway, a month’s supply was one hundred and seventy dollars. Their whole line was that the results would be worth it. The fat would melt off.”

“Snake oil. It’s all lies,” Heather muttered.

“Shipping and handling for this bottle of pills was another twenty bucks, in the fine print. Also in the fine print was a statement that the pills should be taken after consulting with a doctor and in conjunction with a low-fat diet and moderate exercise.”

“For heaven’s sake!” Marissa put her hands on her hips. “That’s like saying a bottle of ointment will give you a golden tan but must be used in conjunction with real sunshine. Why do you watch ads like that?”

Bianca shrugged. “Because I want them to be true, I guess.”

Tugging unhappily at the blouse’s suddenly tight upper sleeves, Marissa said, “I can see that. I mean I’m working out every other day. I could probably pick up a truck but my clothes don’t fit.”

Heather said, “I think that I’m undoing all the good by having a treat after. To reward myself for going. Sometimes I have the treat before then I don’t go.” She sighed. “It’s been three weeks and I haven’t lost an ounce.”

Bianca gave them both a sympathetic smile but Marissa didn’t think she could possibly understand their frustration. She and Heather were putting out an effort, certainly more than she ever had before in her life and getting nothing back. Marissa felt as if she was doing something wrong instead of something right. The woman in the mirror still didn’t look familiar.

On the way back to her office she wrote her thrice-daily missive in her head.