Emmy spent two weeks in Paris when she was 47. The occasion was her parents’ 50th wedding anniversary; it was her father’s favorite city and he talked her mother into taking the offspring there.

Her dad was experienced at Paris. He told Emmy and her brothers the secret to social success. “Whenever you enter a commercial establishment, greet the proprietor and use ‘Madame’ or ‘Monsieur.’” That’s when Emmy realized such courtesy isn’t customary in the States; most consumers dart through a store doorway and head for what they think they want, and only look for an employee if they need assistance.

Emmy followed the advice. “Bonjour, Madame (or Monsieur)” she’d say, as soon as she made eye contact with the person behind the counter or among the stock. And it worked. She never encountered any of the ugly American treatment she’d heard about.

Emmy and her brothers and spouses were housed in a Left Bank hotel. Their parents rented an apartment for themselves, two blocks away. Everyone spent cocktail time in the apartment. Everyone checked out the books in the shelves and the photos on the walls.

There was a slim volume by Gertrude Stein there. From it Emmy learned the origin of the Madame/Monsieur greetings she’d been using. Stein wrote that, after the revolution, it was an indication of equality and respect to use the same honorific for everyone. No more classes in that society.

Emmy told her work colleague about that after she returned. Mark was a good friend and an interesting person. He had multiple degrees, excellent taste in wine, rugs, and opera, and an awesome vocabulary. When she described what she’d learned from Stein he said, “Well yes. Maybe.” He added that Ms. Stein was known for making up facts, so there was no way to know from just reading her if her statements about the use of Madame/Monsieur were true.

That was a decade ago. Recently Emmy has been reviewing all the paper files in her study. Rereading and then either saving online or not, but recycling the paper. Last week she encountered this journal entry, from a February 1:

Eustoma – Pantheistically speaking, there are low gods for every human purpose. And low is good, for it means the godlets are closer to us. Zeus and Memory had a tenth daughter, Eustoma, but the men who made use of her nine sisters had none for a muse of eating. February is her sacred month (every month is precious to one of the sisters, except July and August, which were named/claimed for people).

February is from februum, an old rite of purification. So the first project of this convention is the work of purification. We approach it with movement.

Her attention was arrested. She smiled slightly and reread the paragraphs. She had a vague recollection of looking up “February,” but it was “Eustoma” grabbing her. She did a quick Internet search.

Nothing. Emmy tried searching “Muses.” The only reference to a tenth muse was about Plato’s appreciation for Sappho.

Emmy knows the Internet doesn’t actually include all knowledge. But as she searched she felt the growing certainty that she’d made it up. Her smile widened. She’d written that journal entry three years before the Paris trip.

Eustoma. Right. Emmy did some classical Greek in college. She knows “eu” is “good” and “stoma” is “mouth.” Sure as she gets her own self, that diary entry was a creative-writing start-of-yet-another-diet.

Big surprise. One of Emmy’s significant parts is an eating disorder, and she’s been starting diets, most days, for 43 years. She isn’t obese, but no one would describe her as willowy either.

Without any attempt to fact-check, she’s sure Gertrude Stein was a fellow traveler. Stein seemed to have no problem with her body image as a mature individual, but the young woman was bulky, and Jewish, and verbal, and not an athlete – how not?

Emmy is no fool. She has been paying attention. She knows how to lose weight, keep it off, and even cure a disorder. She could write a book about it, except she’s pretty sure everyone has to discover the steps for herself and personalize them, so reading the book would only be good for the author and publisher and marketer.

She understands that it takes six weeks to form new neural pathways in the region of habit. You have to give a program that. And it takes at least a year to complete the grieving process when a loved one dies – giving up an addiction is like losing a dear friend, so you also have to give yourself that time.

She says your campaign, for that’s what it is, requires the same thing that a military or political campaign demands: strategy and tactics. Strategy is what the general comes up with in the war room – flags in the map and bullet points and all that. Tactics are what the sergeant uses on the battlefield, endeavoring to implement the strategy in an environment of changing and challenging conditions.

It’s not about will power!

But Emmy also understands there are forces working against success. Leaving aside the subject of epidemic metabolic disorder, there’s a nostalgia component in everyone’s longterm bad habits. There’s something about engaging in those old behaviors that makes a person remember youth, feel like herself…

And there’s also the “what next?” issue. Emmy always knew her mother and aunts wanted her to lose weight to “be her best,” and she was pretty sure if she resolved that imperfection, her mother/critics would come up with the next improvement on their invisible list. Holding onto the weight prevented that development.

But the biggest obstacle to the cure may be evolution. As far as Emmy can determine, people have evolved to be quick-adapters. Humans seem much better at fixing a small immediate problem than at stepping back to sense the big picture and overhaul the system. People respond to immediate gratification, which is what tasty extra food provides. No one is adept at waiting for the wise result of a long plan.

All true. Probably useless. Emmy is approaching 60 now, and not as large as she used to be. But if she’s honest, and she usually is that, her relative trimness is not owing to any of the above wisdoms. Emmy is single and pretty happy with her state. She likes living alone. Being single means she can opt to skip the large meals that make part of holiday culture, the large dinners expected in a “normal” family. And over the last decade Emmy has learned that she suffers from chronic periodontal disease. It isn’t her fault – it’s anatomical and without modern science she’d be losing her teeth. But she undergoes “procedures” often. Each one means a tender post-operative mouth that won’t tolerate hard, sharp or sweet food. And a prescription for painkillers that make television interesting and food less appealing.

The eating disorder wasn’t her fault. Neither is her cure.