Praise for The Divorce Diet
“With all the pluck of Helen Fielding’s Bridget Jones and sardonic good humor of Lorrie Moore, Ellen Hawley serves us a treat of a novel. Read it and you too will have a deliciously good time.”
—David Haynes
Author of A Star in the Face of the Sky
“Unexpectedly deep and humorous . . . a sweet and realistic story about how the smallest of comforts can provide the greatest abundance and joy.”
—Margaret Dilloway
Author of Sisters of Heart and Snow
“Ellen Hawley writes wry and poignant prose that keeps you laughing and reading well after your bedtime.”
—Lisa Alther, author of Blood Feud
“Enchanting and engaging. Newly single mom Abigail finds revenge, redemption and reinvention in the kitchen, not to mention a second chance at life, love and self-esteem.”
—Michele Morris, author of Paper Girls
The DIVORCE DiET
ELLEN HAWLEY
KENSINGTON BOOKS
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Praise for The Divorce Diet Title Page Dedication DAY - 1 DAY - 2 DAY - 3 DAY - 4 DAY - 5 DAY - 6 DAY - 7 DAY - 8 DAY - 9 DAY - 10 DAY - 11 DAY - 12 DAY - 13 DAY - 14 DAY - 15 DAY - 16–18 DAY - 19 DAY - 20 DAY - 21 DAY - 22 DAY - 23 DAY - 40 Uncounted Days Recipes Acknowledgments Copyright Page
This is a work of fiction. With the obvious exception of the invisible guru, the characters are all products of the imagination.
The Divorce Diet is dedicated to every woman who ever walked away from a relationship. Or a diet. And especially to Janneen Love. This is not her story, but her spirit inspired everything that is best in Abigail.
DAY
1
Thad’s left for work already and Rosie’s asleep. I know this even before I pry my eyes open. He finally understood that taking care of a baby is exhausting and he let me sleep in. Yay, Thad. I feel whole and rested and strong enough to reach under the bed, fish out Losing Weight the Natural Way, and open to the first chapter:
You are embarking on an exciting and important Life Journey, the book says. By taking control of what you eat, you are taking the first step toward becoming the person you want to be. Before you begin your journey, weigh yourself, unclothed, so that later on you’ll be able to see how far you’ve traveled.
Right. New person. Control. Journey. Today is the first day of whatever. Step one, then: Get myself out of bed.
I toss my nightshirt on the bathroom floor and stand frozen in front of the scale like a furless and hefty squirrel panicked by an oncoming car.
Go on, a voice in my head says. Knowing what you weigh won’t make you one ounce heavier.
It’s the voice of my diet book, like a wise and kind friend who has no problems of her own to distract her from mine.
I step on the scale.
Now open your eyes, my new best friend says. And look down.
I look. And because I have a new friend to support me, I don’t even scream.
Starting weight: 168.5.
It’s okay, my invisible friend says. This is only your starting point.
Yeah, I tell her, but my starting point used to be a hundred and goddamn twenty.
And whose fault is that? she says.
Sorry, I mumble, but she’s already gone.
I toe the scale back into place—Thad won’t care, but even so I don’t want him to know I’ve been weighing myself—and I get dressed. Already my new best friend hates me and has gone out somewhere. Without me. To a no-breakfast meeting, where she doesn’t even want to eat. Where she doesn’t care that I need to talk to her.
To hell with her, then. I invented her anyway.
I open the diet book.
It’s okay, I read. This is only your starting point.
Freaky. Didn’t I just make that up?
Remember, the book says, you’re going to become the person you want to be. Take a minute to think about who that person is.
I take a minute, since Rosie’s not awake yet, but all I can come up with is a memory of Thad yesterday morning, saying I was turning into a bit of a pudge.
Never mind. We’d over-discussed our relationship. We both said things we shouldn’t have. It was my fault as much as his. He didn’t mean it to sound like it did.
And besides, it’s true. Ever since I got pregnant.
See, that’s a beginning.
My invisible friend is back. She’s forgiven me.
Already you know you don’t want to be a pudge.
It took me nine months to put the weight on, I say, so I get nine to take it off. Right?
She