On the way to Jersey the other day, I had my Princess as a copilot as we trekked along the 76 to go pick up Grammie and her cousin, my niece. We sang loudly to random tunes playing through the speaker from Pandora Streaming; taking moments to giggle and be girls. About an hour goes by and she begins to chatter about nothing in particular.
We near our destination and she says, “My stomach doesn’t feel well.”
When I ask her why, she informs me that if she finds that if she doesn’t eat breakfast, her stomach turns into an upset mess. Carrying on, with a further explanation, she says, “I could never be Anorexic.”
I asked her what she meant by that, my interest peaked, as I once suffered from the deadly combination of Anorexia and Bulimia just a few years older than she is currently.
Straight-faced, she looks at me, “I like to eat. I don’t like to be hungry.”
Ahh, I get it. Too darn funny.
Then a few minutes go by and she says, “I don’t understand why women would want gel in their boobs. What if it pops. And they are all squishy then anyway. Why can’t people just be happy with what they have?”
I found that last remark amusing. I explained that some women just don’t have breasts or after kids, their breasts aren’t the same and they use a saline now, which is like water instead of gel. You know, all medical and serious in my definitions.
She nods that she understands but says, “I hope that I will be happy with whatever I have.”