I've been dieting on and off (for maybe the past 15 years.) Recently we are having an "on" again relationship. And apparently just in time. I was sprawled across the bed with my fiancé Sam next to me when my daughter came in, most likely to plead her case for sleeping downstairs instead of in her bed. As is customary at least twice a night. She stopped when she saw me in my yoga shorts. Now it's just getting warmer and to be fair, my thighs are quite shocking after being holed up in the safety and comfort of winter layers. She came over and began to slap the top of my pasty appendages and said, "Mom, your legs are FAT!" I told her that I was fully aware that a majority of myself fell into that category. Then I get the sideways look of disapproval from Sam. You know the one. The pursed lips with the face that says "oh don't say that!" while the mind thinks "Meh. They've got a point." She repeats herself while playing a rhythm on my legs. Sam pipes up at this point and tells her that isn't nice and to stop. Misunderstanding, she turns to me, "No, this doesn't hurt. (Smacks a little harder) Does it mom?"
"No honey. I'm dead inside."
(Smiling triumphantly) "See? I TOLD you. "