I stopped at the store with a van full of children (don’t ask me where they all came from…pesky pests are like mosquitos you can’t get rid of) – to buy stuff to make a salad. I left them in the car ( of course) and dashed in.
Where I was promptly distracted by sugar cinnamon donuts that were on sale, and a luscious assortment of lamingtons. Which I had to buy. Of course.
Back in the car, the teenagers proceeded to lecture me about my purchases. “Aren’t you on a diet?”
I was proud to tell them, “No, I’m not. This is the new Lani of 2013 who doesn’t go on stupid diets every other month. Because I’m happy with myself just the way I am.”
They were unconvinced. I carried on, reciting the various mantras of ‘Love Your Body’ experts. “You see this body of mine? It’s beautiful. Strong. Healthy. Vibrant. Luscious…”
Then a voice interrupts, bellowing from the back seat. Bella. “And FAT!! Your body’s fat, Mama!”
Clearly, someone didn’t get the ‘Love Your Body’ memo.
Which the teenagers thought was hilarious. Of course. But that’s alright, because I didn’t let them have any donuts.
They were delicious.