Tuesday, February 7, 2012

One Gramma, fat Gramma

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My grandmother was always a little senile, even before she grew old. She lives alone, crochets for hours daily, smells of mothballs, and endlessly talks to herself. She's such a neat freak that she doesn't sit on her bed with the comforter in place because a dent might form and cause a wrinkle, she pins doilies to her couch, everything is wrapped in plastic. And so prefaces my favorite Grandma story:

My older sister and I were probably ten and thirteen. Carrie was growing into her awkward stage and putting on boobs and extra weight. The two of us sat at Grandma's plastic-covered kitchen table drinking hot chocolate as Carrie read the nutrition facts from the cocoa canister aloud. My grandmother briskly walked through the kitchen mumbling to herself and my sister said to her, "One gram of fat, Grandma!"

My grandmother kept walking as she replied, "What? One fat Grandma?"

We both nearly died from the laughter.

My grandmother had recently bleached and hung her white curtains in the kitchen and had made mention of them several times that day. After the two of us were red-faced from the fat Grandma comment, Carrie stood by the sink, a last sip of cocoa in her mouth. I said, somewhat expectedly, "ONE FAT GRANDMA?!" and she exploded hot chocolate all over those sparkling white curtains.

I'm surprised we survived the laughing fit, but even more surprised that our nonfat Grandma didn't kill us with her broom after ruining her curtains.