Getting Started

I mentioned in my first post that I had a little trouble fitting in with a new family at a very young age. To help you understand, my mother and I lived a very busy life in a little apartment. I went to preschool, my grandparent's house, and sometimes with mom to one of her jobs.

She worked as a switchboard operator for Ma Bell in the evenings and drove my preschool "bus" aka her car with a bus sign stuck to the roof, during the day. She also worked for a portrait studio and sometimes took me to work with her there, too.

We went to Gloria Stevens Figure Salon together (my mom used to battle to keep weight off of her and she did a good job of it!) a few times a week. We went to my dance classes a few times a week. We ate "poor" - a lot of canned and boxed stuff, hot dogs and things like that.

We had roommates sometimes - usually girls in their twenties who rented a room but were barely ever home - and we had each other. My mom had had a couple of boyfriends and they were each nice enough to me, but none of them had really made any impact on either of us, so it was mostly just the two of us. I was very, very happy then.

And then my mom introduced me to the man who would eventually become my stepfather. His name was Jimmy. He was very big, very dark and he had three chubby kids.  I learned after a series of "family dates" together that Jimmy's wife had left him and his kids and that my mom and I were going to live with him.

The idea of living with them seemed pretty cool because Jimmy and his kids seemed to have and do anything they wanted. I was in awe of their ability to take off on a moment's notice and go for "penny rides" (where you flip a coin and drive in whichever direction the head points). They had a great backyard, bicycles, a dog. I was all for the move. Jimmy seemed to think the world of me.  His kids were funny. I didn't mind moving in at all.

Jimmy had a busy job that took him away for weeks at a time which left mom at the house with four kids. When he was away, she would kind of cook the same way she cooked when it was just her and I...and since there was more money, so there was more food. And since most everyone in the house was overweight, meal portions were pretty big.

When Jimmy was home between business trips we ate by his basic menu: pepper (cubed) steak and potatoes, tuna and potatoes, American chop suey, hamburg and potatoes (each with some kind of canned vegetable,) and pizza every Friday night.

When I say pizza, I mean it was customary to buy six pub-sized pizzas, one for every person in the house. It was amazing! We didn't just get pizza, but we got whatever pizza we wanted - the entire pizza all to ourselves. WOW!!!!!  I loved having my own pizza. While everyone else got linguica or some other topping, I always ordered plain cheese. While everyone else pretty much finished their entire pizzas, I'd have leftovers for the next couple of days (unless someone ate them).

But a combination of things made eating a whole pizza something of a feat I had to attempt:

1) It was becoming clear that being cute, skinny, flexible, outgoing and a showoff was getting on Jimmy's kids' nerves.

2) Everyone else could finish a whole pizza and I couldn't.

3) If anyone finished their whole pizza, Jimmy would shake his head in amazement and say "God love ya, kid." and I thought that meant he was very proud.

I learned to eat an entire pizza on a Friday night...and did so every Friday night that Jimmy was home...and before long I would do that even if he wasn't.