Bon Bons to Yoga Pants

Chapter 20-Kit Kat Calorie Reality

I stared at the shopping cart with an intense feeling of trepidation.

Shopping meant food. Food meant looking at calories. Looking at calories meant learning the truth about foods I loved. No, I really didn't want to know how many calories were in a Fudge Round, thank you very much. Then I couldn't eat them in all innocence next time.

In my world, ignorance was definitely bliss.

"Whoa, Mira. You didn't say anything about going grocery shopping," I said, palms up. "I thought we were just going to get something to eat for breakfast. This is Friday, remember? My day off. Let's not ruin it by subjecting me to the torture of looking at pastries I can't have."

Mira set her Mary-Poppins-sized purse in the front of the cart.

"We need to learn about shopping for healthy food," she said primly, clad in her less-than-subtle bright neon blue workout pants and leg warmers. At least her makeup wasn't equally bright. This time.

"And who is going to teach us how to shop for healthy food?" I asked, eyeing a display of red velvet cookies. Mira had about as much credibility teaching healthy eating as I did teaching about long-distance running.

"I am."

My stomach clenched. I whirled around to find Bitsy stride up next to us and set her mom purse next to Mira's. Like always, she wore a pair of clothes that meant she could have just finished working out. She didn't even break stride.

"Follow me."

I glanced at Mira with a condemning glare, but she smiled irreproachably and toddled forward after our personal drill sergeant. With a sigh, I caved and trudged on, already dreading the next hour.

"When you're shopping," Bitsy began, motioning around her with a sweep of her arms as she moved to the right, "you want to stick as close to the edges of the store as possible. All the processed junk is in the middle. See? The produce is just over here."

We passed a young mother with a new baby as we trailed behind Bitsy like ducks waddling in a row. Normally I didn't come to this part of the grocery store—I consumed plenty of fresh vegetables through the cabbage in my egg rolls, thanks—so walking to the right seemed a bit strange. I always went straight forward, right to the Tostito's.

"Preparation is the key pillar in any dieting strategy," Bitsy began.

Although I heard everything, my eyes snagged a display of angel food cake and fresh strawberries. Mmm . . . strawberries with cool whip on top of a pillowy slice of angel food cake. The red sauce would drip off the sides and—

"—Stick as close to the natural state of the food as you can get, and never shop hungry."

I jerked out of my salivating daydream to find Bitsy glaring at me, hands on her circular hips, eyes narrowed.

"Am I interrupting anything?" she asked me with the arch look of an elementary school teacher.

"No ma'am. Sorry."

"As I was saying . . . you need to have a plan. A list. Train yourself to only get what is on the list. That requires planning and forethought, but just consider those the price of good health and success." She whipped around, headed for a lineup of vegetables. "Now let's talk about organic versus regular produce . . ."

I had just turned to follow when I caught sight of myself in a mirror above the display of lettuce and radishes. Bitsy's voice trailed away. I stared, shocked at what I saw.

My shirt hung like a loose rag off my shoulders.

Like a moth drawn to flame, I ventured forward a few steps, staring at myself. Surely I wasn't imagining the way the shirt hung lower on my arms than it used to, at least to my elbows. My face didn't appear as swollen as it used to either. In fact, I dared to think that my second chin had shrunk. Robotically, I reached my hands down to my thighs and pulled at the fabric.