Memoirs of a Fat Girl

After texting Raj and thinking about where he was, I started getting a craving for hummus. It's easy enough to make: chickpeas, tahini, olive oil, lemon & salt, so I lugged my ultra-shiny red food procesor upstairs to whip up a batch. Moms walked into the kitchen. "What are you doing, love?"

I was assembling all my ingredients and outfitting the proper blade attachment. "Making hummus. Want some?"

She gave me one of those mother-looks. "Why are you making hummus? In a couple of weeks you'll be rolling in it."

Hmph. Of course she was right. Why are mothers (almost!) always right? I lugged the processor back down.