When I got to Macy’s a bit past the agreed upon time, I found Rosemary assessing long skinny tubes that looked like white Simpsons, but turned out to be the body shapers.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said, consciously casual. “I stopped to buy a new dress for my date.”
“Since when do you buy clothes for Muir?”
I thumbed through a rack of mega bras. “Not Muir. Mike Lang.”
Rosemary pulled me away from the bras. “Who?”
“Addison’s vet.”
“Really? Cute?” I nodded. She pulled a girdle off the rack. “We’d better get you shaped up for it, then.”
I thought about Mike in his sigh-popping robe and nodded. “So how do we do this?”
“It all depends on what we want,” Rosemary said. “If the problem area is the stomach, then we choose this one.”
“What if it’s everything?”
“We take this total control model t
