Wow what a day this has been. I shared my weight loss testimonial on a national conference call this morning. I went public and read one of my first blogs on www.lbsgainedandlost.com. I am up and running thanks to Courtney, my “oh so wise web woman”. I still have a ways to go to get this blog to my liking but again, “Anything worth doing, is worth doing poorly at first”. So shut up and chill… my perfectionistic and cruel mind of mine.
After flunking first grade I was well on my way to finding satisfaction, love and comfort from my new best friend, sugar. I remember being in the Dicken’s Road house in the front hall when I was ordered to open my mouth. I must have looked like a puppy who had just stolen something forbidden, clamping my teeth down with all my might to not yield my stolen prize.
There had been this beautiful blueberry pie cooling on the rack in the kitchen. It was made by Anna Mae, our, to use the “politically correct” and current description if there is one, African American nanny, maid, housekeeper, domestic engineer? Hell I don’t even know what they were known as back then. I do know there is a book and movie out currently called The Help that was based on these “maids/nannys” that came and lived with rich white folk. Our “help” came up on the Northwestern train from Gary, Indiana very early Monday morning and left late Friday afternoon or sometimes on Saturday mornings. Mom would go to the train station to pick up Anna Mae and sometimes we’d go with her and you’d see all the other black women and sometimes men dressed in white maids uniforms coming up to work for the week. In fact to tell of times gladly gone by, if a police officer saw a black person walking down the street on the North Shore not dressed in work clothes, they would be stopped and questioned in this affluent area. Anna Mae would work and raise us leaving behind her own children for the entire week. I can’t even imagine that. I used to ask her about her kids and only remember her son’s name “Pooky”. Anna Mae weighed 275 lbs and had arms as big as my thighs when I weighed 160 lbs. She was magic to me, and she lived with us for five years from my age three to eight years of age.
I loved her so much and would spend hours with her because if I were around her my brothers could not cause me much trouble. She would make cakes and all kinds of goodies. My little brother and I would always hang around so we could lick the chocolate batter from the bowl and beaters from the hand held electric blender. Well this day she had made a glorious pie and I had found it first. I took it into the bathroom with me and ate it with my hands. Soon the rich dark juice was all over my face. When I had eaten as much as I could stuff into myself, I stashed the pie tin behind the toilet and and noticed my telltale stains. It took forever to get the blue & purple to wash clean.
Moments later I heard “Who took the blueberry pie?” I don’t even remember who was asking, but it sounded like I was unsuspected until mom, and my brother came at me with that, “Paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaattttttiiiiiii, did you eat the pie?” No I protested, but as I opened my mouth and tried to lie the evidence was all over my dark blue/purple stained tongue. Busted! Quickly, I was sentenced up to my room. This would not be the last time I was sent to my room without supper.