My mom has declared 2008-2009 the Year of the Body. Hers. She downloaded a book on healthy eating. She bought grains and leafy green stuff. She started back to meditating at least once a day. And she’s working out more than ever.
“By Christmas,” she says, “I want to have a whole new body.”
Of course, after setting all this in motion, she found something on the Internet about the danger of losing weight once you get past a certain age. She decided to ignore it.
Mom also cancelled her Cable TV. She has been so busy going to exercise class, she says, she has no more time to watch. And she wants to send me off on more walks with my Aunt Sara, since she’s going out more. That’s fine with me.
Our new housemate, Ophelia, is also on a diet. She refuses to eat dry food so she survives on a small amount of canned. She licks her wet food off each dry morsel.
Creampuff and I are the voices of normalcy, although Creampuff likes to eat my crunchies. I eat what my mom feeds me, plus treats, plus whatever disgusting stuff I find in the dog park.
And I’m the perfect size and shape.