That Lasagna

If you ask any adult who was a chubby kid if they have a memory of being put on their first diet, most will answer yes and many will say it’s a bad memory they would rather forget. 

I certainly didn’t forget, but it wasn't all that bad.

There are as many diets as there are bathroom scales. Even if you’ve never dieted, never snacked on celery sticks in lieu of potato chips or never called one of those 1-800 numbers looking for a magic pill; I’m sure you’ve heard of Weight Watchers. 

Weight Watchers was my first diet. It was 1969. I was in eighth grade. I don’t remember what I weighed or maybe I just erased it from my memory along with my poor conduct grades. I do know that I weighed significantly more than my classmates. When the girls would discuss their weights, I would just lie. But I wasn’t stupid. I assessed where I fell on the weight continuum between the skinny and chubby girls and bent the truth by a few pounds. Truth is, I wasn’t unhappy with how I looked, I just didn’t like the number. 

Genetics had something to do with it but try telling that to a thirteen-year old. My mom, a great cook and one of the most beautiful women I will ever know, was empathetic. She struggled with her weight too. She never criticized my size because she knew how it felt and shared my taste for delectable foods and second helpings. 

Together we made the decision to join Weight Watchers.

I was filled with hope and ready to attend our first meeting. It was in the evening so I made sure that I finished all my homework. The meeting center was in a familiar Brooklyn shopping area, ironically above a Chinese Restaurant.  We climbed a long steep flight of stairs while trying not to breath in the intoxicating aroma of egg rolls and fried rice. Was this a test? 

Once we made it through the gauntlet of Asian cuisine, we waited on a long line that led to an intimidating doctor’s scale. I recall my mom smiling at me saying something like this, “Remember, you look good, no matter how much you weigh.” 

We found our seats and my life-long love/hate relationship with Weight Watchers began.

In a strange way, I was proud to be there with my mom. We had something in common. This was our time together and we were going to help one another. However, since I was the only kid there and being a kid, I got bored. I had to make this fun. 

I started chanting in a somewhat loud whisper, “F-r-e-n-c-h f-r-i-e-s, F-r-e-n-c-h f-r-i-e-s, 

F-r-e-n-c-h f-r-i-e-s.”  

Before I could sense the crowd’s reaction to my shenanigans, my mom gave me a “you better stop it” look, but not without first laughing herself. This was followed by a glaring look from the meeting leader who, from a kid’s perspective, looked like a balloon that had been popped with a pin. He tried to be energetic but he looked hungry. I soon learned why. 

The highlight of the meeting was a recipe for “lasagna.” Let me share the preparation steps  with you. 

1. Take one piece of sliced bread and toast it. 
2. Slice the toast down the middle.
3. Spread cottage cheese between the two halves.
4. Pour tomato juice on top. 
5. Place in a toaster oven until hot and bubbly.

At this point, my mom was drinking the sugar-free Kool-aid and actually thought this concoction would be worth trying. She was beginning to scare me. Fortunately, it was time to go.

After that first meeting, we did make the “lasagna.” We ate it until we couldn’t eat it anymore.  

Over the years my mom and I would continue to try diet after diet in our quest to lose weight. Even after I moved out on my own, we continued to discuss weight-loss successes and failures. We’d lament about our plight and yet we would always end the conversation with a positive “you look good”  affirmation to each other.  It’s the way it was and as much as I sometimes wished we were those naturally thin mother-daughter duos that existed somewhere in the universe, it wasn’t us. 

Looking back, dieting was something my mom and I shared and for better or worse I wouldn’t change a thing…… expect maybe for that lasagna.