It is not easy for someone who is only five foot four inches tall to hit 250 pounds, but Liza May Minnelli stood on the scale barely able to see the three digital display numbers over her enormous girth. The display read 2-5-4. She thought for a second to remove her wool socks, the only item of clothing she was wearing at the moment, to lighten the load and get the number down, but the thought passed like the wind that she just let go into her Manhattan apartment bathroom.
"Woe, that's a real whopper," said Naomi Campbell, who was leaning against the bathroom door jam in cowboy boots, a black skirt and tank top holding a cell phone in left hand.
"Sorry," said Liza as she stepped off the scale.
"Hey, it's your apartment. You fart all you want," said Naomi. "Hey, girl, now don't turn away from the mirror. Face it. Take a good look at yourself," said Naomi sternly.
Liza had her left side turned toward the large mirror over the double sink pink marble counter. She peaked at her body. The white folds of cellulite-laden flesh from sixty years of neglect, or outright abuse, were just hanging abound her from chin to knee caps like a lumpy burlap sack of potatoes.
"Look at it. Look what you have let yourself become," said Naomi.
"Can we get on with this?" said Liza as she turned from the mirror toward Naomi. "I want to get dressed."
"Forget it. I want you to get in touch with your body. I want you to remain naked, and start to get acquainted with what you haul around everyday," said Naomi. "Go on, grab your belly. Grab it with your hands, like you were kneading dough. Do it and watch yourself in the mirror doing it," said Naomi.
Liza does as she is told, like she has most of her life. Strong-willed men and women have always been the prime movers in Liza's life, so she looked down and grabbed the large flabby tire pock-marked with dimples. She did this cautiously, without looking in the mirror.
"OK, you are not listening to me. Grab it. All of it," said Naomi.
"I am," said Liza meekly as she looked up at Naomi.
Naomi placed her cell phone down on the pink marble bathroom countertop to the left of Liza, pushed Liza's hands away and grabbed the mounds of fat that encircled Liza, hanging there like melting marshmallow.
"You see this. Look in the mirror as I am doing this. Look at this. Can you feel it? I bet you cannot even feel it, can you? The nerves probably don't even reach across your sacks of fat," said Naomi was kneading, grabbing, pulling, pushing, wrapping her arms around Liza, jiggling the fat, shaking it, cupping it in her hands.
As Naomi was doing this, getting lost in her activity, like a child with play dough, Liza looked up at the mirror. She watched Naomi, her tall thin somewhat muscular arms, her smooth skin. She felt the fat rumbling around her body. But it was almost as is the fat was anj oversized coat, not really attached to her. There was so much of it. Liza started to feel a pain in her chest, that rose into her throat. Her facial muscles quivered with fear and shame. Liza felt her eyes fill with tears, the bottom lid overflowing, and letting the tear drops roll down her cheeks. Naomi was manically shaking and rolling, uttering something that Liza could no longer hear.
That is when Liza spotted Naomi's cell phone sitting on the bathroom counter. A charge of electricity went through Liza. Not a good charge. She could not characterize it. It was just a jolt, as if a puppeteer was pulling on her left arm. Liza grabbed the cell phone and swung it at Naomi's face, hitting her hard in the cheek. Naomi Campbell fell back onto the floor, blood spurting from the side of her mouth. She was flat on her back, moaning in pain, holding her face.
"What the hell," Naomi said through a gurgle of pain.
Liza stood there, only in her socks, with Naomi's cell phone in hand. The phone started to ring. It was the National Anthem ring tone. Liza tossed Naomi's cell phone in the open toilet where the Anthem immediately terminated.
"I'll get dressed now," said Liza, as she walked over Naomi's body on the tiled bathroom floor.