Saturday, September 10, 2011

lila's bat mitvah (lyn)

Lila is Bat Mitzvahed today; she's my cousin's daughter.  The service is held at the same temple in Brockton where my family and I were once members.  In fact, the rabbi who married my sister 36 years ago is there.  

Lila is a girly-girl, and the color scheme reflects it.  Even the men where pink yarmulkes.

After the service, there's a luncheon and my family and I sit with relatives we haven’t seen since Olivia’s Bat Mitzvah two years ago (she’s Lila’s older sister).  Our cousins and aunt have come up from Florida and North Carolina, and it’s always good to trade stories with them.  Before leaving, my sisters and I take a picture with my mom.

After the luncheon we drive down to the Cape to see my dad.  Unfortunately he was unable to come to the Bat Mitvah, as he  is still in rehab.  For the first time, my dad looks all of the 88 years he will soon be, but his sense of humor remains strong.  He is thrilled to see us.  We sit outside for a couple of hours in the cool autumn sun and just enjoy the day and the company.

Visiting my dad is the only non-eating event of the entire weekend.  It seems like we just finished lunch before we are on to dinner.  My aunt has prepared a weight-watcher unfriendly meal of three different pasta dishes (chicken cacciatore, lasagna, and fettuccine alfredo) followed by a berry pie and some weird looking thing called trifle (the only thing I don't eat).

My cousins are all present again, and this time we’ve come armed with pictures.  We look at each other’s kids and comment on how much they've grown, how beautiful they’ve become or still are, and get brought up to date on what they are doing.  Then my cousin Howard hands me his phone and says, “Take a look at these.  I can’t believe they are still in my camera.”  I look, and there are photos he took at Olivia’s Bat Mitzvah, exactly two years ago.

And there I am.  The fat me posing with relatives, looking hideous.  I'm busty and large in a tight-fitting black suit (that is not meant to be tight-fitting).  My face is big and round, to match the rest of me.  I remember how frustrating it was to find anything in my closet that fit.  I almost didn't go. 

And yet, when we are looking at the photos, I seem to be the only one conscious of how different I look.   Perhaps two years ago everyone was seeing the person I’d always been and not the person I’d become.  Whatever the reason, I’m just glad to be thin again.
September 12, 2009

September 10, 2011

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