Don't Kid Me!

Kidney beans, kidney pie, kidney stones--
whoa, not on my menu!
I've never had one of those excruciating
episodes and don't intend to.

I think my body is afraid to manufacture stones
since I hold my breath and swallow tablespoons
of raw, unfiltered apple cider vinegar during the day.
Gag me...

My son knows when something vile is crossing
my lips.
Sure isn't a candy bar...
The essence permeates from the kitchen to
where he's sitting a few feet away.

I've taken to a Dr. Weil and Dr. Oz way of good
health, for awhile now, side-stepping the amazing
bakery case at my favorite book store.

It's not always easy when I see a delicious apple
danish grinning back at me.
I figure it's either sacrifice something tasty and
live longer and healthier, or dunk into Donut Hole
Heaven, and eventually have hell to pay-- waddling
around like Cruiser, our resident duck...

Busting Out...

When I was 13, my family moved from Santa Monica
to a new home in the San Fernando Valley.
I still wanted to attend Saint Monica's High School with my friends.
Every morning I commuted with my dad to Santa Monica.
Dad dropped me off at Gran's at 6:00 a.m., where I caught a bus for school.
Gran would be up, waiting for me.
Occasionally, she bestowed little 'pearls' of advice to me:
“Nancy, don't ever dress like a tramp...”

Me?
Dress like a tramp?
How could I?
Roll up my green plaid uniform skirt until my knees were showing?
Every morning we were made to kneel before school began—to make sure our skirts were touching the floor.
Wear makeup?
The nuns made sure all of the girls looked like wallpaper paste.
Makeup was forbidden, though I knew some girls cleverly disguised the fact.

After 2 years, I transferred to a public school in the Valley
for my junior and senior years.
I'd had enough of 5:30 risings.
Gran was really worried then.
I'm sure she thought I was going to hell in a hand basket...

I cut up my uniform with intense joy!
The baggy, white gym shorts were shredded.
Mom bought me a few dresses, blouses and skirts.
I replaced my suede buck shoes with pumps.
I lingered in the cosmetics department of our
drugstore, buying my first tube of lipstick, mascara,
and blush.
I felt emancipated.
I'd peeled back the veneer of years of stringent policies,
revealing my authentic self.

My personality bloomed, all in a good way.
It felt great.

Grandma worried over nothing.
Just look at me now...