My Fat Friend

So. I have this friend, who’s decided she’s going on the Cambridge Diet. Basically, it’s a pure liquid diet—you drink 3 shakes a day, get all your vitamins and minerals and almost no Calories, and you lose weight like an anorectic chemo patient, i.e. the fat flies off you at approximately twice the speed of sound.
The thing is, she’s that friend every girl has. You know the one I mean. She’s about 3 inches shorter than me, a good 20 or 30 lbs heavier, and she wears daft glasses. I mean she thinks they’re funky and cool, with their little purple plastic rims, but actually, they just make her look even more like the geek she is, as well as highlighting the fact that she has atrocious vision.
So. What it boils down to is this. I will NOT allow her to be skinnier than me. Even if I have to give up food altogether, or vomit after every meal, or join WeightWatchers and actually NOT cheat, I will not let her become a size smaller than me. It’s not meant to be. It’s not right. It’s against the laws of both God and Nature.
Yeah. She thinks that by Christmas, she’ll be the slimmer of the two of us. We’ll just see about that.