Plate

Today was quite a day! After my mom returned from her water aerobics class, she immediately began lamenting about her weight and fitness. She seemed to point fingers at me, insisting that if I cooked, it should only be certain dishes—mainly veggies and a 6 oz portion of protein. When I suggested she could simply avoid what she didn't want, she blamed her lack of willpower, especially evident with snacks like the M&M's I gave her, of which she polished off half the bag yesterday. I tried to reason that her unhealthy habits, like fast food and frosting binges, were bigger contributors to her weight than just my cooking. So, I took away the candies I gifted her for Mother's Day. She shrugged it off, saying she'd only buy small bags at checkout, but I'm pretty sure a McDonald's run is imminent in the next couple of days. Then, on top of that, after hiring people to clean out the vents in her house, I had to endure hours of relentless vacuuming. Amidst the noise, I heard a crash and knew they had knocked my cherished Beauty and the Beast plate off the wall. I've had that plate for 30 years, ever since I got it on the opening night of Beauty and the Beast on Broadway. When my mom confirmed my suspicion, I felt a mix of sadness and anger that eventually overwhelmed me, leading to me passing out in bed. Though they ordered me a replacement plate from eBay, it felt like another bad omen, especially after being left out of the recent Beauty and the Beast production in SLO just two days prior. Signs seem to be popping up everywhere lately.  Guess I wont be going over my prepared statement.

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