Bon Bons to Yoga Pants

Chapter 36-The Most Wonderful Thing

I set down the flowers I'd compiled so far and stood, headed for the fridge as if on autopilot. There had been an old donut of Kenzie's earlier this morning that I had avoided but would taste wonderful now.

Chocolate frosting will make this conversation with Mom less awkward.

Light spilled into the kitchen when I pulled open the fridge. Just as I reached for the donut container, I stopped.

What am I doing?

Last time I'd had an encounter with Mom, this exact thing had happened. I turned to the ever-ready arms of food and binged almost uncontrollably. Mom kept working, oblivious to the pause in my universe, the shift in time, as my frozen arm remained halfway into the fridge. Did I want to go down that path again?

No. I grabbed a water bottle instead. No. This time, I'll deal with my emotions. I won't eat them.

"Want a water bottle, Mom?"

"Sure."

When I returned sans food, she glanced at the two water bottles in my hand. Mom had never been good at hiding her surprise.

"Thanks," she said, accepting it. I twisted the cap off, chugged half of it—I'd forgotten that I'd been thirsty from my walk—and then returned to my flowers.

"Anyway," I continued, as if I had never stopped my explanation. "Miss Bliss wants me to submit my writing, but I don't know what to write about. Some of the competitions have writing prompts, but none of them appeal to me. She says to find something I'm passionate about, but . . ."

I paused. I've never been passionate about anything except food, and look where that got me?

"What about your father?" Mom asked. "You were so close to him."

A twinge of longing, perhaps pain, had come into her voice, although she tried to cover it with a forced smile. I stared at her in surprise.

"Write about Dad?"

She shrugged. "Why not? He meant the world to you, Lex. You were always glued to his side."

I studied the hurt on her face. "Mom," I said quietly, surprised to hear the words moving from my brain to my lips, "did you ever feel bad because I was so close to Dad?"

Tears rose in her eyes. "What do you mean?" she asked with a little laugh, although she almost choked on it. "I was glad you were so close with him. Heaven knows he needed someone who understood him. I never did."

"What do you mean?"

"Your father was a good man, but he wasn't perfect. Instead of talking through our problems, he would just eat. And eat. A lot of things went unsaid because of it. Instead of spending time together, he wanted to be out to dinner or watching his favorite TV show. We didn't do much."

I'd always brushed Mom off as an emotional creature growing up, but suddenly I saw it in a different light. All those nights sitting in front of the TV with Dad, watching games on Saturday, spending half of the baseball games we'd attend trying out different food vendors.

Where was Mom during all this?

I opened my mouth to say something but shut it again. "I had no idea," I whispered, dumbstruck. "I just . . . I just thought that you didn't like Dad. That you weren't attracted to him because he was overweight."

"Not like him?" she asked. "Lexie, I loved your father no matter what he weighed. But food became his mistress. And me? I . . . I don't know what I was. Then . . ."

Her frightened gaze finished the rest of her statement. Then he dragged you down that road with him.

He did. Dad certainly had taught me how to cope with life—or not cope with life—through food. All that time Mom had been trying to put me on diets, telling me that I needed to lose weight, she'd really just been terrified that I'd end up like Dad: obsessed with food. Dad had been my hero. My best friend. The one who understood. The guy who didn't care what others thought. But now I realized that perhaps he was just as messed up as me all this time.

"I'm sorry," I said, meeting her watery gaze. "I had no idea, Mom."

A tremulous smile crossed her lips. She reached over and took my hand. "It's okay, Lexie. You didn't know. You were just a girl."

"I won't do what Dad did to you. Well . . . maybe I did in the past. Okay," I admitted reluctantly, my forehead furrowing, "I've done to you just what Dad did, but I won't anymore. Everything is different for me now. I'm getting healthy in lots of ways. I'm . . . going to be happy too. Happy with me, happy with my size, happy with my life. And . . . I'll try."

A tear dropped down her cheek as she squeezed my hand.

"That sounds like the most wonderful thing I've ever heard, Lexie girl. The most wonderful thing."

What do you think of Lexie and her Mom's relationship?

And in honor of national donut day earlier this month, I bought a couple for my husband, tried them, and couldn't stomach them. Why do they look so yummy in pictures but fail to live up? #WHY

Love your faces. MUAH.