240 Calories of Bonding

So, without telling *alla* Hope’s business, we are deep, deep I say, into the throws of teenage girl-dom.

As Hope and I endured the last 18 months of middle school, I can’t say I remember much about my own middle school experience—somethings about crushes and such, but middle school was such an emotional drag that I just seemed to have blocked out a lot of it.

I can honestly say that once I think back to high school I am able to call up all kinds of memories about my social struggles. This is a good thing because I can really relate to some of the things that Hope is going through—insecurity about my own beauty, self-consciousness, desire to be liked, desire to have friends, desire to be cool—the kind that doesn’t get in trouble, but the kind that seems to have an easy life and eternal happiness. There is a desire to get the hair just so, experiment with makeup and clothes, and to just get to dating already!

There is a lot going on and it doesn’t take much to upset the apple cart.

In my day the friend consultations happened by phone, you know, like people actually *called* each other, spread gossip, discussed crushes and how to manipulate boy situations to your advantage—you know, on the walkway outside his class at just the right time, or oh, hey? I didn’t know you ate at this cafeteria? Have you always been here? I must’ve missed you. Today, it’s just texting…texting and emoji wars (I have no effing idea what purpose emoji wars serve, but there ya go…).

So, this weekend, a social situation involving a crush came to a head like a big ‘ole white head pimple, and then the dang thing went splat all over the mirror. #youknowwhatImtalkingabout And life as we know it came to a screeching halt.

There were the lyrics to sad dirges written down, gnashing of teeth and instant replaying of the event to the point that I feel like I was texting it in real time too. I’m happy to report that my little scientist can also deconstruct a conversation for “real” meaning just like her mama. There was epic emotion at Casa d’ABM this weekend.

Before Hope and long before one of my besties got married, we had a deal for dealing with social upheaval in our lives. We would get together and then drive to the nearest Krispy Kreme and the one who was not enduring the crisis of the millennium would eat one Krispy Kreme donut. We called it, “Taking one for the team.” We didn’t want the actual sufferer to add emotional eating to her litany of woes (although it probably was already there, along with a lot of wine consumption), so the non-suffering bestie would consume the donut.

So, yesterday as we were headed to get Hope a haircut, I swerved into the Krispy Kreme bakery near the house. Hope was like, “Why are we here?” I shushed her, got out of the car, walked us to the end of the line, ordered myself a donut and texted Hope’s godmother an SOS: Crisis! We are at Krispy Kreme. Because Hope didn’t quite understand what was happening I allowed her to get a donut, since she doesn’t yet have an appreciation for this womanhood ritual.

Light Fluffy Goodness...

Light Fluffy Goodness…

We grabbed a booth and I snarfed the donut in, like, 3 bites. Hope’s godmother texts me back.

“Tell her that won’t be the last donut, shake it off…those donuts have been comforting women for years.”

True dat.

Hope giggled as I explained why we were at the donut shop and how this thing was supposed to work. If I’m the one experiencing the upheaval and she knows about it, then she has to take one for the team. But, today I was taking one for her because I knew she was sad. Sometimes it feels like I should buy donuts by the dozen, but I explained that this specific womanhood ritual is reserved exclusively for crisis situations. No way I’m just eating donuts for any old body.

We had a nice time bonding. Hope thought it was all funny; I hopefully reinforced that I love her and would do just about anything for her; and hopefully, she got the point about sista friends who ride for you during dark times and have your back. I love my bestie and I hope I never have to eat another donut for her—which is more a testament to her happiness than my waistline.

I ended up taking an extra long walk and doing an exercise video to make up for the extra 240 calories consumed on Hope’s behalf yesterday.

Totally worth it.


About AdoptiveBlackMom

I'm a single Black professional woman living in the DC area. I adopted my now adult daughter in 2014, and this blog chronicles my journey. Feel free to contact me at adoptiveblackmom@gmail.com, on Facebook at Adoptive Black Mom, and on Twitter @adoptiveblkmom. ©www.AdoptiveBlackMom.com, 2013-2022. All rights reserved. (Don't copy my ish without credit!) View all posts by AdoptiveBlackMom

One response to “240 Calories of Bonding

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

K E Garland

Inspirational kwotes, stories and images

Riddle from the Middle

real life with a side of snark

Dmy Inspires

Changing The World, With My Story...

Learning to Mama

Never perfect, always learning.

The Boeskool

Jesus, Politics, and Bathroom Humor...

Erica Roman Blog

I write so that my healing may bring healing to others.

My Mind on Paper

The Inspired Writing of Kevin D. Hofmann

My Wonderfully Unexpected Journey

When Life Grabbed Me By The Ears


things are glam in mommyhood


an adoption support community

Fighting for Answers

Tales From an Adoption Journey


Because of course race and culture matter.

SJW - Stuck in the Middle

The Life of Biracial Transracial Adoptee

%d bloggers like this: