‘Is it veg or non-veg?’ a voice asked. It was Neeta. My eldest daughter. Ever since she got an Indian boyfriend, she asks these weird questions. It’s just food. Eat it.
‘Not agaaaiin..’ drawled Suzy, the middle one. She had by now given up on my culinary skills. She would now calculate the calories using some stupid app and will announce it to everybody.
‘266 calories for every 100 grams! Nah.. too fattening.’
When I was young, pizza was a special treat. It could brighten up my day.
‘Darling, you know it’s too much for me. All that white bread, and cheese. Diabetes,’ my husband shrugged and joined the bandwagon.
‘Mom, I will have dinner at Stu’s birthday party,’ quipped my youngest Max.
Why did I even bother to order? Now I would have to eat the whole pizza.
Perhaps I knew that. Now I can relish it alone.