"i'm so mad at you right now..."

the first words out of my mouth when my mom answered the phone.
fortunately she survived the phone call, because had those been my last words to her, i'd feel really terrible.

but i had to express my anger to this sabateur, this trickster. she may seem thoughtful and harmless, but trust me: evil takes a human form in this 5'7", transition-shade glasses wearing, tomato-cultivating "CSI Miami" aficionado... the world has known fewer women with her cunning, her sneakiness, her ability to plot.


i arrived home to find a huge box sitting in my foyer -- big enough to fit two toddlers, yet light enough to be empty. what could be inside it?

on the outside, a sweet card, addressed to me and Atticus.

inside:
1. kitty treats with atti's name on them (aww so cute... if just a little desperate. it screams, "i want grandchildren." but then, so does she, literally screams it every time my brother and i are home for holidays.)
2. banana nut bread (so thoughtful! homemade and healthy!)
and
3. two -- gasp -- oh NO she DI'N'T!!!


let me preface my outrage by pointing out that my mom knows i'm on a diet -- okay, in her potential defense, i've been on a diet since i was 7. but this time i'm REALLY on a diet. and she knows it.

i KNOW she knows because when i was home in mid-august, and she called me "chubby," i vowed to return at thanksgiving and SHOW HER. that's what i said. "I'LL SHOW YOU..."

at the time i had grandiose visions of anorexia, a gaunt frame by Thanksgiving, possibly showing up at the front door in a wheelchair due to my feeble, malnourished body. anything to prove a point...

and while that hasn't quite happened yet, i AM trying, and i've lost more than a few of my bar-studying, stress-induced summer pounds. and now, apparently, people are out to sabotage me. main culprit? my mom.

which is why she filled the huge box with potato chips. huge bags of potato chips. not just normal-size bags, but "Weekender" bags.

for those of you who are unfamiliar, the "Weekender" denotes a bag of potato chips the size of which should last a nuclear family one entire weekend, yet which i myself have eaten from start to finish within one evening at home, bored, in amishville. and she KNOWS THIS.

these central pennsylvania treats are like my kryptonite, only supposing superman wanted to devour kryptonite, rather than flee its presence.


i'll show her...

but for now, i have to go. i have an entire bag of potato chips to eat today.