Wouldn't It Be Nice

I have a health condition that causes me to be overweight. Which in and of itself is mildly annoying, but it doesn't bug me too much. Sure, if someone offered to wave a magic wand and cause me to lose 25 pounds, I would not object, but it's not as if I'm sufficiently overweight to be getting health problems from it, and Luke doesn't mind.

But there's my mother. She bugged me about my weight all through high school, let up a bit when I went to college and became the only freshman ever to lose fifteen pounds, and the last few years has been up to her old tricks. When I told her about my health problem, I thought that was the end of it, but no: yesterday she went out of her way to tell me that she has problems with her back "when she sits around too much". Because it could not possibly have anything to do with the fact that I got hit by a car three months ago and sprained precisely the portion of my back that now hurts again; it must be that I'm choosing to knit or read instead of getting healthy exercise. I have thus far refrained from telling her that the choice is not between sedentary activity and exercise, but between sedentary activity and lying in bed doing nothing at all.