Role Reversal

“You have to stop eating!”

“I’m not anorexic, for god’s sake just shut up and let me continue with my lunch and soccer,” She brushed me off.

Cassie wasn’t exactly what people would call fat, but to me, it really was a tad to the fat side. I wasn’t exactly anorexic, but maybe I’d just cut down on my sugar and fat intakes per day by having a diet coke for coke, salad for an appetizer, and maybe skip the luxurious sundaes or sinful cheesecakes I’d really love to have but…

“Oh, come on!” Snatching the packet of tortilla chips from her hands, I tossed it lightly on the table while she smirked at me, mimicking what I just did. Roommates we were, but sometimes I couldn’t stand what she did, while she couldn’t stand what I did.

“Seriously, just close one eye! It’s just a freaking pack of tortilla chips, no biggie. Not some… outrageous piece of frog fat I’m dangling hungrily into my mouth, is it? Jeez…”

“Chips, calories, fats! Like, hello?!” I emphasized on the last word, almost regretting it after a nanosecond.

She got up from the already lumpy sofa and stood up facing me, hands on her hips.

“OK whatever. Totally, whatever.” I gave up; raising both hands up in the act of surrender and tossed the packet of tortilla chips back at her.

Chuckling to herself, she set her eyes on the television screen once again, the packet of chips in a hand, the other holding the remote control, surfing the channels.

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Cassie and I were strangers when we first moved into this tiny apartment, which we rented from a mutual friend we had. Different as we were, it wasn’t difficult to click with her.

I organised my clothes, shoes, and accessories into those little cute jewellery boxes while my clothes and shoes went into the built in closet. They were arranged by colour codes, and sometimes when I felt random I arranged them by the occasion. Sleek and elegant gowns went to formal wear, while the shirts and jeans went to casual. Stilettos were reserved for special occasions, while the sandals and ballet flats were displayed along the closet for a quick slip on any time.

She threw her clothes into the wardrobe she didn’t really opened, while her accessories (not that there are a lot, really) were straddled against mirrors, tiny hooks meant for paintings and sometimes in the living room. Her few pairs of shoes lay all over the doormat. Sometimes I’d go and arrange them neatly and finally sigh satisfactorily to myself.

Though we had limited conversations, we knew in our hearts that we enjoyed each other’s company. Best friends, you can call us. Usually, when I hogged the television, I’d be watching my soap dramas; and if she approached the television (with the usual packet of tortilla chips) I’d change the channel to that of the sports channel. Sometimes, after her grocery trips, I’d find cans of diet coke that she bought in the fridge, as well as low fat milk cartons and healthy granola bars for me to snack on. Really surprising how a careless person like her could do such things for a friend, eh?


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Life went on, me as a writer for the gossip and fashion column of a local magazine, her also as a writer, except for the movie and television drama review section of the same local magazine, city chic.

December came, and both of us were busy as there were deadlines waiting to be submitted, pieces waiting to be passed to the main editor, and bits and pieces of odd write ups here and there.

For such a careless person like Cassie, she became neater and more organised in her work. At the least she did me a favour by arranging her shoes on the shoe rack, and hanging her accessories by her mirror. Ironically for me, overstressed and nervous, I no longer marvelled at the remarkable way I could arrange my shoes, or my outfits. Things didn’t matter much to me anymore, furthermore, they just seemed like material objects to me at that point of time.

There was a Monday when I opened the fridge, only to my horror; there wasn’t anymore diet coke or granola bars in the fridge. Rushing for work, I randomly grabbed a canned coffee, a donut and my coat; hobbled towards the door, slipping on a pair of court shoes for work.

I actually ate a donut. With the sugar and the calories and…

So, what happened to the diet coke, you ask? What happened to the granola bars?

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The clock ticked by in fast forward, and it was January.

“You have to stop eating!”

“I’m not anorexic my dear, just shush and let me continue with this,”

“Oh, come on!” She tried to snatch my packet of tortilla chips.

“Seriously, just close one eye! It’s just a freaking pack of tortilla chips, no biggie. Not some… outrageous piece of frog fat I’m dangling hungrily into my mouth, is it? Jeez…”

“Chips, calories, fats! Like, hello?!” she emphasized on the last word.

I got up from the lumpy sofa and stood up to face her, hands on my hips.

“OK whatever. Totally, whatever.” She gave up; raising both hands up in the act of surrender and chucked the packet of tortilla chips back at me.

We paused for a moment and relived the times when our roles were reversed. Bursting into a fit of girlish giggles, we collapsed onto the still lumpy sofa.

With the tortilla chips.