Punkinhead is a puny kid. She's about 5' and barely tops 90 lbs. At a party we went to yesterday, she ate a large pulled pork sandwich, a plate of garlic-roasted potato wedges, cheese and crackers, three cookies, and no fewer than eight pieces of fried chicken.
I know, I know. She's got that obscene teen-age metabolism that allows for the consumption of millions of calories of fat and sugar without any physical manifestations such as wide hips or protruding bellies. But it's still not fair. And I'm not the only one who thinks so. All of her girlfriends enviously watch her eat like a carb-loading football player.
I suppose I'm a bad mom for being jealous of Punkin's inability to get fat, but the extra 30 pounds I've been carrying since she was born have made me a little bitter.
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