C is for Calcium

My gynecologist has pretty shoes, great shoes. Really expensive, chic, stylish shoes.
I know this because I’m forever looking at her feet instead of her eyes.
Truly, an impressive shoe collection.
And once when I was staring at a pair of spectator heels in a kicky black and white pairing — no peep-toe, either, so classy — I heard her utter the phrase, “You need more calcium at your age.”
Instead of bristling at the aging remark — I mean, she’s a doctor, for heaven’s sake, I get that — I heard the words, “You need more ice cream from the freezer case.”
So I stopped at the store on the way home from my appointment.
Do you know about pint sized ice creams? Because if you don’t, I’m doing you a favor.
Ben, Jerry, Blue and Bell, Haagen and Dazs, all excellent purveyors of the miniaturized creaminess, because, hey, buying the big jug just seems excessive.
A couple of those a week and suddenly it’s been a year, time to see the doc, who’s wearing a fetching pair of espadrilles and telling me, “My, you’ve gained a little weight since I saw you last.”
This, I couldn’t ignore. “Maybe a little,” I remarked while pointing to her toes. “Did you get those from Amazon?”
“Yeah, I did,” she answered, wiggling her feet for better display value. “But what are you eating?”
“Calcium.”
“Just supplements or…”
“Oh, no, ice cream,” I answered, still calculating what I know about what this woman charges for a visit against her Amazon shoe budget. And just as I was about to ask if her espadrilles came in a different color, one more rakishly navy than magenta, she asked, “How much ice cream?”
“A pint.”
“Well, a pint a week shouldn’t…”
She consulted my chart. I stewed. Should I say anything? Should I ‘fess up? Because the truth…ah, the truth…
Then I couldn’t help it. I laughed.
“Maybe two a week…or three…” I know I grinned impishly. I was going for “sheepish,” but I didn’t feel guilty enough to pull that one.
She, however, did not contain her disgust. “ONE,” she practically warbled, “Is enough calcium for a week.
Defensive, I turned into a preschooler. “YOU SAID…”
I stopped myself.
She shook her head a lot. I fumed. And left quickly.
But guess what I headed home to find awaiting me in my own freezer section?