Designated Fat Girl Read Online Free Page B

carton factory in the early afternoon, right after we got home fromschool. He would send one of us down to the corner store to buy our daily snack. We each got to choose something to eat and something to drink. We also had to get something for Dad. My brothers and my father always varied their choices. Sometimes my dad would get these pink cupcakes called “snowballs”; other times, he’d want a long package of peanuts and a Pepsi. My brothers liked all kinds of chips and cakes and cookies. But my choice was always the same: a bag of Funyuns and a Mountain Dew. There was nothing better than that salty-sweet mix, and it was part of my afternoon routine for years and years.
    I can remember my mom going to the grocery store every Saturday and coming home with a large bag of potato chips, a box of Ho Hos, and a two-liter bottle of Pepsi. Those snacks would be gone by the afternoon, my brothers and I hurrying to eat them before they disappeared. There was always a definite competition in my house for food.
    I smile now when I think about how much I complain about my kids being picky eaters, because really, they are nothing compared to my brothers and me. I would eat no fruit whatsoever. I couldn’t stand the texture of it, and to this day I don’t eat any. I would eat very few vegetables, either. Sometimes my mom could get us to eat green beans with fatback or corn on the cob smothered in butter. I never wanted to try new things; I always hated going over to other people’s houses to eat. I can remember having lunch at my friend Michelle’s house. I was probably five years old. Her mother put the plate in front of me, and I stared at the brown bread. Brown bread? I’d never seen such a thing. And I wasn’t about to put it in my mouth. I was too ashamed to come out and say it, so I did what anyfive-year-old would do. I waited until Michelle’s mother wasn’t looking and I threw the bread on the floor, under the table. Problem solved.
    Michelle’s parents were professors at Duke University and were obviously a little more enlightened when it came to healthy eating. I remember bringing over a bag of Funyuns to share with Michelle, and her father asked to see the bag. He turned it over and began reading the ingredients. I couldn’t imagine what he was doing, and I don’t remember his ultimate verdict.
    No, my parents were not college professors. We were a distinctly blue-collar family with enough money to get by but not a whole lot left over. Food was a cheap way to show love and bring pleasure. Not only did my dad buy us afternoon snacks, but he also would make mammoth “Daddy Burgers” on the grill, each thick patty smothered with mounds of cheese. My mom would cook her own french fries in our FryDaddy. And sweet tea flowed freely. Whenever we had a hankerin’ for dessert, my brothers and I knew to look in Dad’s top dresser drawer—he always had cookies or candy bars stashed there. When we were out of school for the summer, Mom would leave us a dollar each to go to the store and buy whatever we wanted to eat. My brothers and I fought like cats and dogs, but I can distinctly remember my brother Jimmy and I pooling our money once and buying a Chef Boyardee Pizza Kit. Making that pizza with Jimmy is something I remember fondly.
    Every memory, every special occasion, was tied up with food—and still is. My first thought when I wake up in the morning is,
What will I eat today?
My last thought when I go tosleep is,
What will I eat tomorrow?
If I know a special occasion is coming up, I ponder all the food possibilities. It occupies my every waking thought.
    College brought a whole new level of food independence. I was still twenty-five pounds lighter, and I managed to keep most of it off freshman year. But it occurred to me that I could have anything I wanted to eat, anytime I wanted. No longer was I limited to the one soft drink a day Dad bought for an afternoon snack; the campus cafeteria had all the soda I could