"I'm looking for a gift for my Pilates instructor."

As I uttered this sentence today, I realized it probably ought to be an entry in the "How to Speak L.A." phrase book.

In consultation with Ben, I decided I want to give Allisandra a token of my appreciation for being such a sweetheart. I had two sessions with her today––the first was a "power walk" around the neighborhood of the studio, the second was another hour of Pilates. She is very encouraging, saying "Beautiful!" or "Niiiice!" in her charming Brazilian accent in reaction to almost everything I attempt. What I'm doing is far from beautiful, but she is so sincerely enthusiastic about it all that I almost buy it. I know I AM performing all the moves better every time I do them, and much better than the first time––which was only three days ago! 


There were two (minor) celebrities at the studio this morning: Dita Von Teese (yes, she was wearing the makeup, which is why I recognized her) and Elizabeth Berkley, who looked tall and sort of pretty, but sort of like a mannequin.


After the studio, Ben and I went to Canter's Deli for lunch, where we saw Andy, the Gyrotonics instructor, who is a waiter.  Don't worry, we more or less stuck to the diet plan there. More or less.

Sorry I didn't take photos of any of these important moments, but here's breakfast, which I always eat alone in my room, so there's no embarrassment about taking a picture:

That looks like a lot of food, doesn't it? The bacon is actually part of my "mid-morning snack." Also, the bacon is actually not bacon, of course. It is the equivalent of Turkey Roll-ups.  I can't tell you what kind of poultry laid those sausages, but it turns out it's all edible.
The other part of my mid-morning snack consisted of a kiwi and some pecans. Wait, you have to see them:

Pecan 1: "Should we go talk to those kiwis?" Pecan 2: "No."

In the afternoon, I walked to Beverly Hills proper, where I said "Je cherche un cadeau pour mon instructrice de Pilates," but in English. That was on Beverly Drive, a block and several levels of reality from Rodeo Drive. The whole shopping area was pretty crowded––a mix of tourists, foreigners, and oodles of various L.A. types, dressed and groomed as if they might be "somebody." But everybody looks like that, so the distinction between the ones who are somebodies and the ones who are poseurs is almost irrelevant. I am, luckily, invisible, so I can pass among them all unnoticed.

Oohh––don't tell the food police, but I stopped for a frozen yogurt at a place called Menchies, which is like Pinkberry or Berryline, but it's all self-serve, so you can choose among about a dozen flavors of yogurt and then about a zillion toppings. Delish.

And then dinner at Cut, with Mari and her husband. The restaurant is in the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, which is pretty posh/old Hollywood. (90% chance we saw Anna Kendrick walking  into the hotel, bedecked for some event.) The filet mignon was truly delicious. My outfit that I fretted over last week was fine.
Tyra Banks was in the next booth. She had fish.