Barbara is frustrated by her mother's extreme diet and the pressure she feels to eat very healthily. Her mother eats very small portions and analyzes the calorie, fat and nutrient content of every food. She criticizes what Barbara and her father eat, calling almost all foods unhealthy. Barbara thinks her mother takes her diet to an extreme and that balance and moderation are more sensible approaches to eating.
Barbara is frustrated by her mother's extreme diet and the pressure she feels to eat very healthily. Her mother eats very small portions and analyzes the calorie, fat and nutrient content of every food. She criticizes what Barbara and her father eat, calling almost all foods unhealthy. Barbara thinks her mother takes her diet to an extreme and that balance and moderation are more sensible approaches to eating.
Barbara is frustrated by her mother's extreme diet and the pressure she feels to eat very healthily. Her mother eats very small portions and analyzes the calorie, fat and nutrient content of every food. She criticizes what Barbara and her father eat, calling almost all foods unhealthy. Barbara thinks her mother takes her diet to an extreme and that balance and moderation are more sensible approaches to eating.
Barbara is frustrated by her mother's extreme diet and the pressure she feels to eat very healthily. Her mother eats very small portions and analyzes the calorie, fat and nutrient content of every food. She criticizes what Barbara and her father eat, calling almost all foods unhealthy. Barbara thinks her mother takes her diet to an extreme and that balance and moderation are more sensible approaches to eating.
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BARBARA
Barbara is put off by her mother*s outrageous dietetic demands. My mother
has this totally insane attitude about food. She eats like a bird—a hummingbird. For breakfast, she*ll have a piece of dry toast and coffee. For lunch, a salad with no dressing. For dinner, a thimble-full of chicken. It*s like her whole life is a diet, you know. When we go to a restaurant, she pulls out this little booklet that tells you how many calories there are in food, how much fat, how many carbs and stuff. Sitting down to eat with my mother is like sitting down at the table with a scientist. She analyses everything. And of course, this means I have to eat rabbit food, too. The last time we had lunch, she insisted I order a cucumber salad and a tomato stuffed with tuna. Oh yeah, and iced tea. Cucumbers and iced tea. Real appetizing, huh? Puke-ola! This is why I try to avoid eating with her at all costs. She*s constantly bugging me about what I eat. "Don*t eat fat. Don*t eat meat. Don*t eat sweets. Don*t eat processed food." Don*t is a big word in my mom*s dietary vocabulary. And I*m not fat. Hey, I*m not even overweight. I mean, if I was like this balloon or something, it*d be different. She*s always jumping on my dad for what he eats, too. The poor guy can*t enjoy a meal without hearing how unhealthy everything he*s eating is. She gets into all kinds of facts and figures: about how many of the calories you*re eating are fat; about how pesticides cause cancer; about how meat-packing plants aren*t sanitary; about these laboratory experiments on rats. She*s like this walking, talking, food horror picture. Her conversation alone could cause a person to lose weight. I mean, how can you possibly eat when someone*s sitting talking about rats shrivelling up and dying because they don*t get enough protein? Hey, the thought of rats healthy is gross enough. Mom used to be overweight. I guess this is the reason she*s flipped on diet. Because she*s a former fatty. She*s a reformed food junkie. Which is okay to a point, all right? But she*s really taken the whole thing out of sight. To the point where she*s paranoid about food. I*ll bet if you hid a Twinkie in her purse, she*d have a stroke. I think eating right is sensible and being healthy is important. But like who needs taking it to extremes? It*s important to enjoy life, too. I mean, hey, we*re not supposed to put our life in a Ziploc bag, you know. I think common sense is the answer. With food and everything else, it*s just a matter of balance. Besides, how about the thought of going through life without another cheeseburger? QUILTERS 1 My ambition is to become a doctor like my father. I'm my father's girl. My greatest accomplishment was when I was ten years old and was successful in chopping off a chicken's head and then dressing it for a chicken dinner. My mother tries to make me do quilts all the time, but I don’t want nothing to do with it. I told her, ‘Never in my life will I stick my fingers 'till they bleed!’ My sister Florry is a real good quilter, I guess. Mother says so all the time. Florry's favorite pattern is the Sunbonnet sue. Mother taught her how to do applique blocks and since then she’s made prob'ly a dozen Sunbonnet Sue quilts. You seen 'em, they're like little dolls turned sideways with big big sunbonnets on. Florry makes each one different. In one her little foot is turned this way or that, or she'll give her a parasol or turn the hat a little bit. People think they're so cute. She made one for everyone in the family, so now there are little Sunbonnet Sue quilts all over the house. She made a couple of ‘em for her friends, and last spring when we all got promoted at school, she presented one to our teacher. I nearly died. And she's still at it! Let me tell you, she's driving me crazy with her Sunbonnet Sues. So, I decided to make one quilt and give it to Florry. Like I said, I'm not such a good quilter as her, but I knew just what I wanted to do with this one. It's real small, twin bed size. I finished it and put it on her bed this morning, but I don't think she's seen it yet. I guess I do some new things with Sunbonnet Sue. I call it the Demise of Sunbonnet Sue. Each little block is different, just like Florry does it. I've got a block of her hanging, another one with a knife in her chest, eaten by a snake, eaten by a frog, struck by lightning, and burned up! I'm sorta proud of it. You should see it ...it turned out real good!