Last Thursday, I spent several hours at my grandmother’s house. I call it “playing beauty shop” because it really is just play. I’m not any sort of professional. I’m just a little granddaughter, playing with scissors and rollers and administering a combination of chemicals, ominously called a Permanent.
I cherish this time with her. She has always been so special to me, but even more so now that I understand that our time is precious. The days are numbered. And I don’t say that just because she turns 82 today. The days have been numbered all along; Hers and mine. I just didn’t believe it when I was younger.
Our beauty shop time is ours and ours alone. No one else gets to set her hair. Only me.
We talk and laugh and reminisce. She tells me stories about her life. There are so many stories, and while some favorites are told and retold, I usually get to hear at least one new one. We talk about the family, about the weather, her friends at the Coppell Senior Center. We talk about her upcoming travels. There are always upcoming travels. Whether her departure is in a week or months, she is always planning her next trip.
And last week, as with most times I visit her, she asked her most frequently asked question:
Are you losing weight?
Weight is a common discussion with my grandmother. You might call it an obsession. I tell her that time spent chasing kids and not baking keeps me fit. She tells me that she always had to diet like crazy to keep any weight off.
One summer I lost a lot of weight. I went over to So-and-so’s house to sunbathe, and her husband came out with the camera. I jumped up and covered myself so quick! But now that I think about it, I wish I had let him take my picture. I have never been so thin as I was then, and I wish I had a picture of myself.
This tale of sunbathing and camera-shyness has been told before. But then she tells me a part of the story I’ve never heard.
Actually, that was the one time your grandfather said to me, “Jeanne, you’ve lost enough weight. You’re getting too thin. You need to stop it now.”
Then she laughed a little, and got a sort of sheepish look. She continued, speaking softly and grinning widely, as though she were betraying a great secret.
You see, I had been going to the doctor and getting diet pills. I had so much energy! I could just go and go and go… She pumps her arms in an act of faux running.
Gramma, do you know what was in those? Doctors used to prescribe amphetamines for weight loss. That’s SPEED, Gramma.
Oh. She shrugged. Well, it worked!
I just love her. She cracks me up. I tell her that she was in danger of drug addiction, using an incredibly harmful substance, and she shrugs. I thank the Lord that my grandfather made her stop, and she laments the loss of her waiflike physique. We both smile and shake our heads.
And I laugh out loud.
Happy Birthday, Gramma!
