I don’t understand this. My mom dosen’t even need to go on a diet; but that’s not the point. The point is my mom’s idiocy of eating food that is inherently fatty. And I don’t mean fatty like a Big Mac and fries, I mean fatty like you need fat in order to live. It’s like going to the dentist and saying, “Here, I’ll pay you half price to do half the job”, or taking music lessons for as cheap as you can find them only because they’re cheap. Only with my mom it’s, “I need to eat food with fat in it to stay alive, but I’m going to eat as little fat as possible”. My mother is an oxymoron.
Alright. So if my mom’s on a diet, apparently the rest of us shouldn’t complain about having to change our wants and needs to suit her whim. Oh, and we also should feel guilty about our eating habits when we beg for regular milk, or a chocolate bar. Point in case: this afternoon (ok, it was more like noon) when I got home from school, I decided I’d make myself some yogurt and granola. Nice and healthy, right? Not a chance. All we had was a little container of Fat Free raspberry yogurt and those fat free wheat squares cereal stuff. I think if you ground that stuff up it’d look just like chicken feed. Shudder. I kindly asked my mother if she would mind buying a big container of plain, regular yogurt. The response: “You know, that stuff has alot of fat in it” in her best guilt trip voice. Ok, that’s great. I like it. My dad likes it. My brother... well who knows. Even my dog likes it. My mom is just crazy.
--the grand drum major of the universe