over at wine me, dine me there was some talk about the clean plate club recently. i am a card carrying member, solely because of the influence of my grandpa bob (different grandpa than previously mentioned). at a tender age, my grandpa bob told my sister and i that before we are allowed into heaven after we die, we have to eat all the food we left on our plates during life. this is the danger of having catholic grandparents raised during the depression. michelle and i debated over the years if the food would appear as we had left it, lukewarm and un
appealing, or if it would age as we aged, and we would have to slurp up moldy brown goo before st. peter welcomed us with open arms. my persisting image of purgatory is miss havisham's wedding table; complete with cobwebbed candelabras, dusty lamb shanks, and a decrepit, decaying wedding cake.
appealing, or if it would age as we aged, and we would have to slurp up moldy brown goo before st. peter welcomed us with open arms. my persisting image of purgatory is miss havisham's wedding table; complete with cobwebbed candelabras, dusty lamb shanks, and a decrepit, decaying wedding cake.after church on sundays we would go out to breakfast. once, at perkins, i begged and begged to be allowed to get pankcakes and promptly ate just 2 bites. my grandfather insisted they be wrapped up. they were kept in my grandparents' freezer FOR YEARS. whenever i visited them, grandpa would ask me if i wanted pancakes. i think they were finally thrown away when he passed on.
be careful what you say to children. they're listening.
5 comments:
OMG! LOLOL!
Well said. I actually blamed my mom not so many years ago for my continuing battles with the bulge, saying that it was at least partially her fault...you see, she clapped for me when I finished all my food when I was little.
I have to admit that the plan backfired, though, when her only response to my off-handed indictment was, "Great. More stuff." I'm sure the guilt resulted in more over-eating. Surprise, surprise.
it's a vicious circle.
i would also like to note, these are the same grandparents who chain fed me oreos to keep me from crying.
So true!!
My parents grew up during the depression and made us clean our plates before we could leave the table. There were times I sat at the table all night (even sleeping in my chair) because I couldn't eat it all. I felt they were dishing up too much onto my plate.
My brother and I got pretty creative and crafty after awhile and whatever couldn't be pawned off on the dog was squirreled away and hidden inside potted plants, drawers, Dad's shoes...
Post a Comment