In the last go-around, Tina freaked when she saw 150 on the scale and decided to slim down.

But at 5'7", her BMI was totally in the green.

I told her, "Chill, health over vanity, always."

She wasn't having any of it.

"Jess, easy for you to say. You're Miss Perfect Curves! Ever thought about it from a plus-size perspective?"

After hearing her out, I realized maybe I was a bit out of line.

I smoothed things over quick, "My bad, no hard feelings."

I bet her we'd rock those summer dresses once she slimmed down.

She started a strong, "mouth shut, legs open" policy, axed the junk food and latte, got a gym card, and ran like the wind.

She dropped over 20 pounds like it was nothing.

But when her weight hit a standstill, she cut back on her meals even more.

Down to one meal a day, and then she went all-out keto diet that went viral online.

Dining out together, she'd fuss over every gram and calorie, non-stop.

A few months down the line, she was thinner but looked like hell—pale and always beat.

Then, she conked out at the subway station pre-gym.

I scrambled to help.

She was shaking, sweating bullets, her lips white as a sheet—classic signs of a sugar crash.

I tried to get help from nearby, but no dice.

Finally, an old lady handed me a piece of her sugarcane from her pack.

I snapped it into bits on the fly.

But Tina came to her senses and clutched my hand weakly, "Jess, no can do, that cane's a calorie bomb."

Then she blacked out again.

I couldn't be more concerned and just shoved it in her mouth, moving her jaw to help her chew.

At the hospital, doctors said she was damn near starved, could've been worse if we were any later.

But when she woke up, she went nuclear on me.

"Jess, I gained a fraction 'cause of that damn cane! You're just jelly 'cause I'm slimming down!"

I was at a loss for words. If not for that sugarcane, she might've been a goner.

Yet here she was, hung up on a little weight gain and blamed me for it.

As my birthday neared, Tina came crawling back, "Jess, I was out of line. I know you care about my health."

She looked so pitiful, I just melted and forgave her.

All smiles, she promised a big cake for my birthday.

Little did I know, that cake would be my death warrant.

This time around, I'm cutting ties with that frenemy.

She can fast herself into oblivion for all I care—if she croaks, so be it!

Coming back to my senses, I fired off a reply to Tina:

"150 is definitely on the hefty side, time to trim down."

Minutes later, Tina shot me a diet plan she'd mapped out.

Oatmeal and skim milk for breakfast, a light salad for lunch, and greens for dinner.

Plus, a daily hour of treadmill time at the gym.

"Jess, keep me honest, will you? When I'm skinny, we're gonna snap so many killer pics together."

I cracked a smile. She was still in the "healthy dieting" zone.

But that wouldn't cut it.

I paused, then hit her with, "But summer's right around the corner. At this pace, you won't be beach-body ready till fall."

That got her spooked, "What do I do now, Jess? You're all skin and bones, throw me a bone here!"

I stoked the flames, "Keto's all the rage. People are dropping like 20 pounds a month!"

Tina was all ears.

She kept me posted on her crash diet progress in the following days.

She slimmed down fast following that unhealthy diet, hitting her target weight in no time.

Now she strutted around, all confident, roping me into endless shopping sprees and photo ops.

I noticed she was skinnier but the bags under her eyes and her caked-on makeup couldn't hide her gauntness.

I suggested hitting up a steakhouse, but Tina was like, "No way, still trimming. How about that new vegan joint instead?"

I gave her a quizzical look, "You're already at 120, why push it?"

She pulled me close, showing off a photo on her phone of her gym crush.

"Check out this stud—hot, right?"

I nodded, playing along.

She sighed, eyeing her belly flab, "I saw him eyeing those rail-thin models on Insta, I've got miles to go."

In the last life, Tina had the hots for the same gym rat, Jake Rivers.

Back then, I was her gym buddy, training every day together.

Jake had a habit of "helping" with my form, hands wandering too close for comfort.

I warned him, "Hands off, or I'm reporting you."

Jake just scoffed, "Got proof? It's all part of the job."

Even when I vented to Tina, she sided with Jake. "He's just being a trainer, Jess. They see trainees, not genders. You're reading too much into it."

I caught a glimpse of jealousy in her eyes but brushed it off.

No matter how Tina fawned over him, Jake wouldn't spare her a second glance.

He thought she was too chunky.

From then on, Tina's dieting went off the rails, and her health nosedived.

Until she passed out in the subway.

This time, I just chuckled and egged her on, "Really? Then you better get even skinnier, huh?"

Tina went all in, chasing love like her life depended on it.

Days rolled by, and I watched her face sink in, looking like a walking skeleton.

Her collarbones jutted out so much, they looked ready to poke through her skin.

Watching her, I figured it wouldn't be long before her body just gave out.

But she didn't have a clue, totally wrapped up in her "diet victory."

Sure enough, one morning, Tina dragged me to the gym for an early run, without even grabbing breakfast.

After our run, while we were waiting for the subway, I noticed her sway.

I turned to look at her, eyes half-closed, cold sweat soaking through her gym clothes.

I'd seen this scene play out before.

Like clockwork, I reached out to steady her. "Tina, you alright? Feeling lightheaded?"

Tina weakly nodded, too out of it to even talk.

"How about a cookie? Or maybe some Coke?"

Her body, desperate for food, had her practically drooling, and I saw her throat move as she swallowed.

She looked longingly at the snacks in my hand.

I picked up on her cue and played along: "The cookie's 3,000 calories, and the Coke's 4,000."

Hearing that, Tina shook her head like she'd lost hope, closed her eyes, and passed out cold.

The subway staff asked if I needed help, but I waved them off.

No way was I letting anyone get chewed out by my bestie.

About ten minutes later, Tina came to, smiling weakly. "Low blood sugar? No biggie, just needed a quick nap. Glad I stuck to my guns and didn't eat."

Poor thing, you didn't nap—you blacked out.

But of course, I wasn't about to tell her that.