I got confused here for a minute.
Why do my shorts feel tight all of a sudden?
Why is my belly protruding, as if I were one of those women who have babies at 62?
At the beginning of the summer, I was sylph– like. A veritable Tinkerbell, flying through tiny flowers with my smallness.
Suddenly, I'm Pooh.
I began to review what I'd been eating.
And therein the problem lies!
I've been eating for two.
Every time, every party, every holiday, every lunch, brunch or dinner, I've spotted Mom's favorite foods and took one for her.
I ate it along with the one I took for me.
Oh! Cinnamon rolls! Mom loved them, I will say as I take one for me and one for Mom. Oh! Coconut cake! Mom loved it! I must have a piece and toast her. Then I clink both coconut cake plates together. To you! I say, then proceed to stuff both pieces down.
I can't forget the Fourth of July doughnuts.
Or the Eggs Benedict.
Or the bacon. Mom loved it this way, crispy, crispy, crispy!
The once-a–season peach ice cream from United Dairy Farmers.
I think I've come to the root of all eating and will find another way to celebrate her.
(Or maybe it was just the beer.)
D.G. Fulford is the author of , written with her mother Phyllis Greene. She is also the co-founder of . You can find her at .
Photo credit: Marcia Smilack