Tomorrow is the big day. Mom starts Weight Watchers. That is all she talked of today was about how much she is dreading dieting.
"I dread everything," I told her to make her feel better. "I get it from your mother."
"I even dread taking a shower," mom chimed in on the pity party.
I couldn't help but laugh at our little tell-all expose. Helen just smiled as she stood by us ironing dad's shirts as we sat at the kitchen table. You can bet she was taking in every word we were saying.
Mom and Dad have been in Maryland for a week seeing my brother and his family. It has been nice having Charlie giving me my medications at night. Charlie doesn't dote over me. He brings me food, lavishes Maggie with attention, and leaves. He doesn't even check under my tongue as dad always does to see if I have hidden the pills. Dad is the pharmaceutical equivalent of what the Gestapo was to the Third Reich.