ice cream and communism

I’ve gained a stone this month. 14 pounds. 6.4 kilos. Whichever way you do it. This is just a rough estimate of course. I haven’t actually been on the scales. I value my state of mind too much. But I can feel it in my thighs and all over my face – because that’s where carbs go to die when you’re Buffy Holt.

I binge. Not on drink. On potatoes. When I was a kid my mother always bought those big plastic buckets filled with three shades of ice cream. The sister liked strawberry, the brother preferred chocolate and the little one slurped vanilla. Me, I liked steak fries with two cheeseburgers please. I started eating burgers in pairs with piles of chips when I was 2. My mother says it was because “You wanted them.”

And on that subject…last night I’m on the phone with very same mother. She starts whistling in the wind and then says “You know, I read somewhere that they’re going to start fining parents with obese children. Like it’s child abuse or something.”

Now, if you’re my sister you know this is my mother trying to get me to jump up and down about ‘How Outrageous!’ it all is so she can in turn throw out an “Aha! You see how I feel about smoking bans then!”

But, of course, I didn’t say ‘how outrageous’ I just said “Well, I wont go into what I think about THAT but if the government can take Celebrex off the market for causing heart problems it should be able to take carcinogen puff out of the restaurants for causing lung cancer.” She didn’t say anything but I heard her take a nice long draw.

I’m sooo gonna get a Chairman Mao button for my birthday.