models were in the lives of these girls, I remembered how I do believe that children are our future. Teach them well. Let them lead the-
‘ How often would you want to see a Little?’ she asked abruptly.
‘ How often?’
‘ Yes. Most people do outings once a week. Or every other week.’
‘ Weekly,’ I said, amazed that that was all they were asking. Why hadn’ t I thought to do this before? Why didn’ t more people? ‘ Definitely weekly.’ Excitedly, I added, ‘ It’ ll be so fun! Taking a girl shopping for cute little outfits, and-’
‘ We frown on shopping sprees,’ Rose chided. ‘ It’ s not to spoil them so much as to be a positive influence. We suggest sporting events or going to the beach or museums. Even cooking together can be lots of fun and very rewarding for both of you.’
‘ Of course,’ I said, reddening.
Now I knew why more people didn’ t do this. It sucks enough to not get a job you want-it’ s downright humiliating to be rejected for a volunteer position. How big a loser would you have to be for that? I didn’ t care to find out. There was a matter of a July 12 deadline, and if I didn’ t get a Little Sister, odds were I wouldn’ t encounter any more billboards providing instructions on what to do from there.
Rose must have sensed my worry, because she said, ‘ A little shopping is fine.’
She went on to explain that they’ d need to follow up on my references and do a background check, which typically took a few days. ‘ If it pans out, hopefully we’ ll have a match for you soon,’ she said, packing up my file. ‘ Anything you want to add before I let you go?’
I thought about the five months remaining before my deadline. It didn’ t seem like much time to change a life, but it was all I had. ‘ Only that I’ m eager to get started,’ I said heartily.
FEBRUARY 14. Valentine’ s Day. The day started on a sour note by being Valentine’ s Day. It then went from bad to worse before I even changed out of my pajamas. I’ d stepped on the scale to discover that I’ d gained five pounds. I didn’ t need Linda and her spreadsheet-making abilities to know that that constituted half of my total weight loss regained-and that every one of those pounds had gone straight to my ass.
No chocolates for me, I realized, sighing. No nibbling at the heart-shaped cookies people would bring into the office. No celebrating the holiday in the way I’ d come to know it: as an excuse to consume mass quantities of sugar with joyous abandon. Not after seeing how much I weighed.
Then again&
I leaned over to pick up the scale. Then I placed it directly into the trash.
#17: Throw away my bathroom scale.
That Marissa was a genius, I thought as I scrambled an egg for breakfast-compensation for the damage I’ d be doing later to my blood sugar. Getting rid of that scale had been positively liberating. So much so that I’ d have tossed away my body shaper underwear, too, if it weren’ t for that one blue dress that I look lumpy in without it.
SHORTLY AFTER LUNCH-I’ d had a chicken salad to make up for the damage I in fact did to my blood sugar-I popped into Susan’ s office. ‘ Am I still on to baby-sit tonight?’
She peered around a bouquet big enough to be mistaken for shrubbery. That was her husband, Chase. More is always more. ‘ If you don’ t mind-I’ d be forever grateful. We’ ve got reservations at Nic’ s. Chase’ s mother offered to watch the boys, but she had that toe surgery the other day. I hate to ask her to run after a couple of five-year-olds so soon.’
‘ It’ s no problem,’ I assured her.
I knew it was a special holiday for them since-and only Susan could pull this off-they’ d met on Valentine’ s Day. It was back in college, when she and I were at a bar refusing to feel like losers because we were stag. At one point, a drunk guy the size of an army tank bumped into Susan, making her spill her drink over herself. Then he
‘ How often would you want to see a Little?’ she asked abruptly.
‘ How often?’
‘ Yes. Most people do outings once a week. Or every other week.’
‘ Weekly,’ I said, amazed that that was all they were asking. Why hadn’ t I thought to do this before? Why didn’ t more people? ‘ Definitely weekly.’ Excitedly, I added, ‘ It’ ll be so fun! Taking a girl shopping for cute little outfits, and-’
‘ We frown on shopping sprees,’ Rose chided. ‘ It’ s not to spoil them so much as to be a positive influence. We suggest sporting events or going to the beach or museums. Even cooking together can be lots of fun and very rewarding for both of you.’
‘ Of course,’ I said, reddening.
Now I knew why more people didn’ t do this. It sucks enough to not get a job you want-it’ s downright humiliating to be rejected for a volunteer position. How big a loser would you have to be for that? I didn’ t care to find out. There was a matter of a July 12 deadline, and if I didn’ t get a Little Sister, odds were I wouldn’ t encounter any more billboards providing instructions on what to do from there.
Rose must have sensed my worry, because she said, ‘ A little shopping is fine.’
She went on to explain that they’ d need to follow up on my references and do a background check, which typically took a few days. ‘ If it pans out, hopefully we’ ll have a match for you soon,’ she said, packing up my file. ‘ Anything you want to add before I let you go?’
I thought about the five months remaining before my deadline. It didn’ t seem like much time to change a life, but it was all I had. ‘ Only that I’ m eager to get started,’ I said heartily.
FEBRUARY 14. Valentine’ s Day. The day started on a sour note by being Valentine’ s Day. It then went from bad to worse before I even changed out of my pajamas. I’ d stepped on the scale to discover that I’ d gained five pounds. I didn’ t need Linda and her spreadsheet-making abilities to know that that constituted half of my total weight loss regained-and that every one of those pounds had gone straight to my ass.
No chocolates for me, I realized, sighing. No nibbling at the heart-shaped cookies people would bring into the office. No celebrating the holiday in the way I’ d come to know it: as an excuse to consume mass quantities of sugar with joyous abandon. Not after seeing how much I weighed.
Then again&
I leaned over to pick up the scale. Then I placed it directly into the trash.
#17: Throw away my bathroom scale.
That Marissa was a genius, I thought as I scrambled an egg for breakfast-compensation for the damage I’ d be doing later to my blood sugar. Getting rid of that scale had been positively liberating. So much so that I’ d have tossed away my body shaper underwear, too, if it weren’ t for that one blue dress that I look lumpy in without it.
SHORTLY AFTER LUNCH-I’ d had a chicken salad to make up for the damage I in fact did to my blood sugar-I popped into Susan’ s office. ‘ Am I still on to baby-sit tonight?’
She peered around a bouquet big enough to be mistaken for shrubbery. That was her husband, Chase. More is always more. ‘ If you don’ t mind-I’ d be forever grateful. We’ ve got reservations at Nic’ s. Chase’ s mother offered to watch the boys, but she had that toe surgery the other day. I hate to ask her to run after a couple of five-year-olds so soon.’
‘ It’ s no problem,’ I assured her.
I knew it was a special holiday for them since-and only Susan could pull this off-they’ d met on Valentine’ s Day. It was back in college, when she and I were at a bar refusing to feel like losers because we were stag. At one point, a drunk guy the size of an army tank bumped into Susan, making her spill her drink over herself. Then he
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