The Chicago edition.
Emma's calendar was empty and she invited us.
What else does a mom need to pack up and go for a visit?
An invitation is a very precious thing.
Chicago and I have a history. A food history.
I grew up here and have many favorite things.
None of which are considered healthy. There is the most wonderful popcorn here in town. It is called Garrets. It is hard not to go get some.
I had a hankering for a cupcake from one of those fancy neighborhood bakeries,
but Emma helped steer me away from that.
So instead I tried to make good choices. I had a salad for lunch and a salad for dinner. Also at dinner I had a tiny 3 ounce tenderloin, some mashed red potatoes and a piece of key lime pie that was about one inch by one and a half inch big.
So I made good choices...but I don't think the food I ate was organic per se.
We did not search out organic restaurants. Perhaps we should look into that today.
Cause let me tell you something.
When I woke up this morning, my eyes were extremely swollen.
Even drinking many glasses of water did not help with the overload of salt and chemicals I was unknowingly eating.
One more positive thing was the amount of walking we did. We walked to the Wildfire and we walked to the nail salon.
Now. The nail salon. I'm going to write about the negative thoughts that go on in my head. I feel extra fat and unattractive when I go to a salon. I like the result of having pretty toenails but to me it is more about humiliation than pampering when I am there.
Here is the truth.
I do not take care of my feet very well because it is uncomfortable to bend over my big tummy. So when I go to the salon I arrive with very calloused feet and it is a big process. The women look around and try to decided which tool to use to work on my feet. They are the unlucky one to have gotten the old woman with the bad feet.
The women working on Katie and Emma have it easy and when they look over at me, they know it.
And then they ask if I am the grandma.
That was the icing.
I do not let on that I am feeling hot and uncomfortable and embarrassed sitting in that stupid chair. I bear it bravely. But the truth is it hurts. I feel badly about myself and my weight. So something that is suppose to be a pleasure is an expensive, humiliating situation where I just beat myself up for being so fat.
I am not really sure how I get over it and where I stuff those feelings but some how I do. Actually, now that I think about it, I think I do know why I can carry on.
Deep down I know that my worth as a person, as a child of God is not about what I look like or how much I weigh. This is a truth that is deeply ingrained in my heart and soul.
It's not a conscious reaction, to replace the negative thinking with the more positive thinking. But perhaps I should make it so. More deliberate.
Catch those thoughts when they come.
But it is not easy when one is feeling like a old, calloused, float in the Macy's parade.