"What's your new address" my mother called and demanded.
I've lived here for 4 months now and it took her this long to ask, never mind looking at the return address on the letters I've sent to her.
"909 King St West" I tell her "why?"
"Have you ever heard of Zumba?" To some people this might sound like a change of subject, but I knew exactly where this was going.
"From an infommercial right?"
"I'm sending you a copy" she said with intent.
Even from 1700 miles away my mother can tell when I'm gaining weight.
Not that she isn't right, in fact I've been trying to talk myself into starting a workout program, the problem is I"m just so busy. I tell myself I'll eat healthy and that way it won't matter that I rarely, if ever, use the gym membership I still pay for. If healthy eating were easy I'm sure we'd all do it.
But maybe this is a sign, a cosmic push in the direction I already know I should be heading. I haven't weighed this much since I was pregnant and none of my clothes are fitting anymore.
Today, I tell myself, tonight I will being exercising, even if it's one little thing at a time. And when that burned, probably pirated, dvd comes I'll do that too.
It's hell being the biggest, lumpiest woman in a sea of big boobs and small waists.
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