My Purple Smoothie Breakfast (Yummy?)

Darling Daughter: You’re going to start eating healthier. You don’t sleep. Skip meals. Aren’t exercising enough. You’re tired.

Me: Yes.

Darling Daughter: You’re sick. AGAIN.

Wasn’t much I could fire back with. I’ve been sick since early October…

So Darling Daughter has taken charge. Is telling me what to do.

And I’m not opposed. I’m happy being an Indian and not the Chief. There are certain areas in my life that I feel strongly about, kind of my nonnegotiables. Where I’m a tad bit stubborn. Where I’m the Chief. Period.

But I’m okay with others taking the lead where they feel strong.

For the most part…

Darling Daughter:  Here’s your morning tea. Do the green tea. But I put black tea in the Ziploc bag, if you hate the green tea.

Then she marched me over to the fridge…

Darling Daughter: There’s your smoothie for breakfast.

Me: It’s purple?

Darling Daughter: From the blueberries…

(The Diet Coke ISN’T in her plan for me…)

Darling Daughter went vegetarian last summer. And it stuck. I don’t mind, because she grocery shops with me and cooks often. If somebody else is cooking, I’m NOT complaining!! And she loads up on protein, so I’m never hungry afterwards–even without the meat.

She gave me a list of items to pick up at the store: avocados, tomatoes, kale, celery, romaine lettuce, green & yellow peppers, raspberries, ginger root, lime, milk…

And like any good Indian, I will shop without asking questions. She will cook. I will eat and say ‘thank you.’

Darling Daughter: You need to get at least 35 minutes of exercise a day.

Me: No problem.

I miss my walks. I’ve only been getting outside about two times a week lately.

Darling Daughter: I put some rice cakes in a Ziploc bag for you to take to work for a snack. Put some peanut butter on them, if you like.

Me: Thanks?

Darling Daughter: And you need 8 hours of sleep every night.

Daughter was laughing at me, having (too much?) fun. He eyes twinkled. She has no game that way. Wears her emotions on her face. She was enjoying herself. And the Chief role.

And I was fine with her program.

Me: I’m going out on Friday. What about having a drink?

Darling Daughter: No drinks. That’s one thing you don’t need right now.

No big deal to me. I’m just as happy sipping on ice water. I’ve never been one to need a drink to have fun. Especially when I’m in good company. And Friday’s company promises to be delightful…

Darling Daughter: And have a salad for lunch. Just make sure to load it up with vegetables, protein–and don’t dump dressing all over it.

Check. Make sure my lettuce isn’t doing the backstroke in dressing. If this makes my Daughter happy and is good for my health, not a problem.

Admittedly, I’ve slipped in my habits. Too much going on. Too little attention paid to my health. She noticed. Stepped in. Which was sweet of her. Mainly because she wasn’t mean, or critical. Her approach was, “You need to take better care of yourself” and “I love you.”

Me: Am I going to lose weight?

Darling Daughter: Maybe. You’ll feel better, have more energy. You might finally get rid of that cough you’ve had for weeks.

Me: Okay.

My weight fluctuates. When I’m busy and stressed, it creeps up. When I’m relaxed, exercising more and eating better–It creeps down. I don’t weigh myself, or stress over it, but some downward creep  in my weight would be fine.

And Darling Daughter is fixing dinner tonight.

All I have to do is drink the blue sludge and green tea for breakfast–and I think I can choke it down. (I’ve swallowed worse.)

Bottoms up.

“Hail to the Chief.”  That’s what I say. Let Daughter take charge of the cooking, the menu planning. I’ll even clean the kitchen.

And if my jeans get loose and I have more energy, super!!

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