Chapter 2—A Little Background

My mother was one of those naturally thin and beautiful women who bases her existence around social climbing, reading Vogue magazine, and being as vacuous as possible to hook a wealthy or ambitious man.

She worked as a model for a few years after college but her real goal was to find a man who could keep her in clothes, nice vacations, and all the pleasures she had been raised to believe she could buy with her looks and family name. One evening by chance she met my father at a society fund raiser of some sort and felt this moderately successful business man was the key to unlocking all those goodies she craved.

They were married for years. And childless. My father worked and worked to provide for my mother as she demanded better clothes, another fur coat, a nicer car, a bigger house, and fantastic trips to Europe and Asia. I was only two when he died one night of a heart attack. I wish i remembered him but I don't. I was born when my mother was turning forty and my dad was sixty or so when he passed away.


My mother as a young model.


You'd think I'd become my mother's life, over forty two, well off, with a two year old to dote upon.

No, because i could never be the daughter she wanted--pretty and feminine, frilly.

When she was reading her fashion magazines, pointing out some cute outfit, I was sitting with my head in a book, or maybe my eyes glued to the tv. Stories and ideas meant more to me than matching headbands and socks.

There was another reason I was not fit to be my mother's dream daughter.
I was a chubby child and no matter how many diets she put me on, I could not slim down.

By the time I was a teen, my mother didn't hide her disappointment and disapproval of me or my "sloppy figure" which had ballooned from "chunky" to just plain fat. She didn't like the way I refused to fade into the background. In my teen years I rebelled more and more in my own way, dying my hair, wearing loud and colorful outfits, learning how to sing and dance, and draw attention to me.


"The trouble with you, Laura, is you are always trying to shock people."

One night after a very long and severe lecture from my mother about "getting my act together, losing weight if I ever wanted to find a boyfriend" I sat in my room an cried for hours.

Once I stopped, I made a vow.

I would not be the fat girl who hated herself for being fat.

My mother's issue with my weight was HER problem and I would not let life or society tell me I was someone "less" just because I didn't conform to one standard of beauty. I could be more than my looks and try to pursue my goals no matter what. I wanted to be a teacher and I enjoyed my hobbies and friends who came in all sizes and colors. If she couldn't understand that, then too bad. I would live my life any way I pleased. I would be someone successful and loved despite my size.

If only it was that easy.


"Do you REALLY need ANOTHER cookie?" demanded my mother.