shiny happy people
It's Friday and I meet my dad outside of the Weight Watchers class. He is wearing his usual Guayabera shirt (maroon today) and slacks. I feel personally welcomed to my weight loss. Inside, there is Julie, a WW leader I've known before and loved. I tell her I am Anne with an "e". I decide against telling her my bones may be made of gold, at least for now. I may need to use that information later.
"This is the Mommy and me class," my dad confides to me. I look at him. I decide not to ask why this is the class he comes to. I would guess it would have something to do with being a grandfather though.
I check in and join my dad, who is sitting in the back of the room, tracking his points on his iPhone. The room is filling up with mothers and their babies, and a few older women. My dad is the only man in sight. "See those three women over there," he says in a low voice, "they have formed some kind of allegiance."
I didn't realize this was some kind of Survivor. "Dad," I say, "there seems to be four of them."
"Oh, yeah, they've added another."
I'm hopeful I will benefit from this class. I know my dad and I will have fun in it together.
Julie approaches me. "I worry about your dad. I worry about when he comes to eat at your house." Really? "Well," I say, "he does have a lot of social engagements - I'm the least of your worries."
You know, as far as Friday morning fun, I don't know that you can beat the Mommy and me class. Happy fat people getting thin. It's fun.
"This is the Mommy and me class," my dad confides to me. I look at him. I decide not to ask why this is the class he comes to. I would guess it would have something to do with being a grandfather though.
I check in and join my dad, who is sitting in the back of the room, tracking his points on his iPhone. The room is filling up with mothers and their babies, and a few older women. My dad is the only man in sight. "See those three women over there," he says in a low voice, "they have formed some kind of allegiance."
I didn't realize this was some kind of Survivor. "Dad," I say, "there seems to be four of them."
"Oh, yeah, they've added another."
I'm hopeful I will benefit from this class. I know my dad and I will have fun in it together.
Julie approaches me. "I worry about your dad. I worry about when he comes to eat at your house." Really? "Well," I say, "he does have a lot of social engagements - I'm the least of your worries."
You know, as far as Friday morning fun, I don't know that you can beat the Mommy and me class. Happy fat people getting thin. It's fun.