“Wait while I fix some leftovers to take home.” “Not too much,” I said. “I’m going on a diet.” My mother slapped her forehead. “A diet. Unh. You’re a rail. You don’t need to diet. How will you stay healthy if you diet?” I paced behind her in the kitchen, watching the leftovers bag fill with packets of meat and potatoes, a jar of gravy, half a green-bean casserole, a jar of red cabbage, a pound cake. Okay, so I’d start my diet on Monday.
