Driving with my parents a few nights ago, we passed the middle school my dad attended, then pulled up to a stop light.
Dad reminisced, “That’s where I used to get dropped off for school. I’d go straight to the pharmacy first for a cherry phosphate before class.”
I was thinking how funny it is that my dad, for once, had come up with a new life snippet to share driving past this corner we pass so frequently, and simultaneously thinking that a cherry phosphate sounded like a drink I’d like to try.
My mom, however, cut to the heart of things.
“Oh, perfect,” she said in her best mean girl voice, “something to help fatten you up.”
So, my dad is thin. And, middle school was over for him 55 years ago. And, my mom is not exactly thin. Certainly, not as thin as she thinks she should be.
Fat shaming. A family tradition! This is why we’re eating at a friend’s house tomorrow.
Here’s a little song that would have been familiar to my dad. I’ve always hated it. He used to sing it to me.