Coming Out of the Cupboard

it looks like i'm gonna have to come out to my mom, again. no she hasn't suffered some amnesia-causing brain injury. when i say "come out" i mean that i have to admit to her that i'm on Weight Watchers.
in case you don't know, i'm Italian. an interesting fact about Italians: we eat...alot; we show we love each other through food and my mom is no exception. i've mentioned it before, she's a phenomenal cook. she makes big meals...big hearty meals...big hearty artery clogging, ass-fat making meals; the kinda meals that made me the "huggably chubby cub" that you've all come to know and tolerate. actually, over the last couple of years she's gotten alot better with cooking "light". she's stopped frying (except for special occasions), limits the amount of butter or oil she sautees with, uses ground turkey instead of beef, etc. on the whole she's a very Weight Watchers Friendly kinda cook...UNLESS you tell her you're on Weight Watchers.

tell her that you're "dieting", "watching your figure", or "trying to cut back" and she immediately slips into Maternal Crisis Mode: an extra teaspoon of Olive Oil here, some flour dredging there, maybe a little bit more Parmesan cheese; like Odysseyus's men, you get ensorcelled by the fragrance of meatballs frying, homemade Vodka Sauce bubbling on the stove top, or broccoli rabe` sauteed in (twice her normal amount of) olive oil and garlic. you black out, lose all willpower and the next thing you know you've gone back for seconds of the veal cutlets and are contemplating thirds of the mushrooms sauteed in marsala (with the thin veil of olive oil shimmering on the top).

yup, mom's a feeder (despite her vehement protests). it's almost cliche`, but no matter how much weight i've gained or lost over the last 30 years, she always sees me as too thin and tries to fatten me up before i leave her presence. i'm lucky to have her; i've got friends whose mothers tell them all the time that they're too fat and need to diet. if my mother ever said that to me i'd be absolutely crushed and thoroughly upset (aside from the fact that it would be a complete 180 degree change). it's really kinda funny when you think about it.

Thursday night we're going out with her and my father for chinese food. i figure that's the best place to tell her, it'll be apparent soon enough when i whip out my Guide to Eating Out and Point Tracker and it's the best place to tell her without making a scene and because if she's gonna try and force feed me, Chinese food is the most point concious thing to be force fed. Stephen will be there to hold my hand for support (that's the key to Weight Watchers: support). i know she come to respect my decision, she'll acccept me because she loves me. i also know that there will also come a point where i will have to choose.

choose between her "love" and being able to wear a size 33 in jeans again.

"Hush up, Don't tell Mama,Shush up,Don't tell Mama...Don't tell Mama,Whatever you do. If you had a secret, You bet I would keep it. I would never tell on you.I'm breaking every promise That I gave her, So won't you kindly do a girl A great big favor? And please, my sweet patater, Keep this from the Mater"~ Don't Tell Mama (Cabaret: Original Cast Recording)