Kalypso Queen
Back at home, I watch TV with Minerva and my mother. Mother never believes in television and their "trashy, lowlife, crappy" programs, but for me, she'll watch it with me. With low-carbs popcorn, of course. She always has to watch her figure and diet.
She rather watch television than eat a donut that will fatten her up by six pounds. That is how she is. Mother likes to keep a bit too thin.
Someday, I might have to enter her into rehab. But right now, she isn't going off on the wrong side. At least, she is in perfect range and eating her greens.
"Oh, I wonder if we can get some chocolates," wonders Minerva, choosing the unwise decision to speak her thoughts aloud.
"No chocolate," firmly replies Mother, shooting a quick glare. "I will put you on no-carb diet with me. I know about your hamburgers, young lady."
"I'm not a supermodel anymore," reminds Minerva. "I'm a designer. A young designer. I can be fifty pounds overweight and still make clothes for people much thinner and taller than me."
"Alright. Should I turn off the television?" I have to roll my eyes. At least, Mother never puts me on the low-carb diet. It is a good thing I chose to go after a MBA instead of a degree in fashion designing or something like that.
"No," Mother replies. In a dreamy look, she says, "I never get over seeing Piero's face when he realizes he is back in the United States. About to go to jail for a long, long time."
I hide my smile behind a bowl of popcorn.