Like father, like daughter

I've thought about a lot of things to write, but it seemed so silly to write when I actually have nothing to update. I mean, I'm trying, but obviously not hard enough. I've gone walking, done exercise videos and hit balls at the driving range. I eat everything I should eat during the day, as far as food categories. Protein, veggies, fruits, etc. My problem is, and probably always has been snacking. I don't have just one reason for snacking... I do it for all sorts of reasons... food tastes good, I'm bored, I'm watching tv, it's in the house, emotional eating, etc. I still have every excuse in the book.

Snacking isn't genetic, but let me tell a "like father, like daughter" story.

I love my dad so much. He is a snacker. He has a technique for eating a dozen donuts in one day. He talks about sweets and pastries so much that when friends fly down from NJ, they bring sticky buns from McMillan's bakery. Seriously. When he comes up to visit us any time, he wants me to get the sugar cookies from Shoppers that have the cherries in the middle. He's pretty specific.

So, a few weeks ago, we're on the phone, my dad and I. He's asking me what's new, and I'm trying to tell him about things that he'll appreciate. He doesn't want to hear about what I wore, etc. I talk to him about dad stuff, like what kind of lawn mower Mac and I should buy, how I did ok at the driving range or what the weather's like. So, we're on the phone, and I'm tailoring my stories to him, and he just keeps saying "uh huh, uh huh, yeah, right." Dude, I know what that means. But I let it slide. Keep talking. Finish my stories, and I say, "Well that's about it, Dad." He replied, "Listen, Megan, I'm about to eat a donut, could you keep talking for a little bit?" Oof. So I keep babbling. When I tell him I've got nothing else to say, he starts to ask me about my father-in-law's neighborhood. "You know Dave's house?" Yes. "You know the stores behind that development?" Yes Dad, I lived there for two years. "Listen, is that bakery behind Dave's house there any good?" Argh. Talking to my dad that day was a lost cause. Eventually, he goes out into the garage for a cigarette and my mom gets on the phone. Before she can even get going, I tell her I feel like Dad is not listening to me when we talk on the phone, and she confirmed it. He wasn't listening to me. She told me he was distracted, because HE WAS LOOKING FOR THE DONUT and needed her help finding it. Sigh. Then she told me I better not bring him down any treats from that bakery for Easter. His love for pastries is out of control, and I am not to feed the habit. Ok. But this whole thing? This wouldn't be the last time this happened.

A few days later Dad and I are chatting it up again, and we're talking about me coming down for Easter. Decent conversation. Mom gets on the phone; she and I talk for a little bit. We're getting ready to hang up, and she says my dad forgot to tell me something. My ears perk up... this never happens. Would he talk to me about sports? His golf game? The boat? My car? Mac? "Hey Megan, listen, you remember those coconut cream eggs we used to get at Bayards Chocolate House for Easter? Yeah, they don't sell them in South Carolina, so could you look around up there for some?"

Drats. More food talk. As if I need a coconut cream easter egg with me during an 8 hour drive. I'm a SNACKER Dad. Just like you. Except your metabolism works a little differently than mine. Ahem. A lot differently. As in, I'd be 400 pounds if I ate like you do. But I still love you. :)