There's no sexy way to tell people you live with your parents. Just try and sugarcoat it. Tell people its all the rage in Europe or just mask the truth by saying you have "Roommates," but ultimately, they know. People can tell. That poor soul who lives rent free, pays the ultimate price in pride, and can be spotted from across the room. Their clothes are clean, pressed, and never missing any buttons. Their faces are also clean, pressed, and perfectly spit-scrubbed. Their phones will ring every 20 minutes and they'll have to go off and make a call to their "Roommate" some time around 11pm never mind what their lips may be in the middle of. And their bellies... their bellies will be BURSTING.
Yes, living with your parents is the number one cause of obesity in America today. If any parent birthed a child in the '80's, their cupboards are sure to be stocked with all of the saltiest chips, the high fructose corn syrup gummy snacks and only cereals with cartoon characters on them. There will also be cakes, cookies, pies, and ice cream. Your parents ate healthy when you were a kid, you were sure of it! But these days, as they stew in retirement and buy bigger and bigger pants, they eat whatever they want. And, if you're unlucky enough to leave independence to "save money and stay with them, for just a little while," you too will be find yourself stuffing your face at all hours of the day, waistline be damned!
I was foolish enough to think that moving in with my parents for a few months would be some kind of Fat Camp. My mother is the woman who does leg lifts while watching TV no matter who else is in the room with her. If she feels like an innocent bystander also needs to tone the butt muscles, she will not shy in encouraging them to join her. "Your friends too, sweetie! Look, here's how its done. And 1- and 2- and 3...." Mom's remedy for ANY illness is to drink water and take a walk. This goes for broken limbs or uncontrollable vomiting as well. Far too optimistically, I was sure that hers would be the fridge with all the best healthy stuff I could never afford and lengthy amounts of time spent in front of the BoobTube would not be tolerated.
You can imagine my surprise the first time I stepped on the scale a mere month into living with this woman who still wears clothes from 1978. Apparently, my jeans were not tight on me because they shrunk from finally being washed. No longer doing any of the food shopping, I was blindly eating whatever was in the pantry trusting that my health was still her number 1 concern. Sure, I'm a grown woman who can monitor what goes in to my mouth and when, but,
"What shall we have for dinner?
-Meh, I'm fine with cereal.
-Cereal it is then!"
"Here honey, try these Belgian truffles I picked up. They'll just melt in your mouth!"
"Ooooh, the boy scouts are selling a chocolate lovers box. Chocolate caramel crunch in bulk??! I'll take two!"
As for exercise, who sat with me during the House marathon on the Bravo channel? And continuous, miraculous home improvements on HGTV? Dear old Dad. By my side for hours, like we were invalids, plaid blankets included. We now speak in code for all operations concerning the remote control. One grunt for volume. Two grunts to switch to HBO.
Something has to be done. No one is going to have to forklift me out of this house!
Wow - it's gotten bad. I think you know what needs to be done...
ReplyDeleteMy roommate and I had our Tuesday night ritual of camping out in the basement watching Millionaire Matchmaker and "baha"-ing at socially awkward mixers where a pack of female hyenas would be after a male peacock -- all the while sipping Belgian beer and eating popcorn from a popcorn maker from 1983.
ReplyDeleteAnd by roommate, I mean my pops.