I love how I’m the fat kid in the family. ‘Lil bro weighs about 104 lbs, Mom weighs 114 lbs, and Dad is thin even though his diet consists strictly of fried bologna and beer.
Seriously, when I got to their hostel room last night, they sprung food upon me immediately. Mom had bought me a huge club sandwich from the cafeteria, followed by trifle dessert and a muffin from Tim Horton’s. Then she whipped out a giant bag of Hershey miniature chocolate bars for Valentine’s Day, and Dad cracked open a can of Pringles. Mom opened up the fridge door and started loading up a bag of food for me. Dad baked me muffins. Then they gave me Pepsi… non-diet.
And the whole time they’re saying, “Gee, I wish I had an appetite like you! Boy, if only your brother could eat like that.” Or Mom says, “I used to be like you when I was your age, nice and plump.”
Yah, seven weeks of gym time and I’m “nice and plump.” I’ve increased my work-outs to four times a week.
Anyway, I miss them severely, even if they do cause my brain to haemorrhage. I think part of the reason I dislike Girl Guides so much is because it’s a reminder of how amazing my childhood was while living in the bay, and I’m jealous of them. Really, I’m jealous of preteen girls. I don’t think I could ever go home for good, but I still can’t quite shake it.