Life, Love, and a Side of Cabbage

Wherever my parents are, life feels like a live broadcast with full surround sound. The vibes are strong. For example, by 6 a.m., when most people are still deciding whether to hit snooze, our home is already alive with activity. Even though our cleaner had just deep-scrubbed everything the day before, my mom, the Empress Dowager of Domestic Affairs, can always spot a speck. She always sees something that needs to be done.

I stumbled out of my room with my hair looking like a tumbleweed. I stretched dramatically in front of the scale. Yesterday was fruit-only day, and the results were surprisingly great. My confidence came rushing back. I declared to myself that today, veggie day, I would eat greens with the dedication of a goat at Coachella.

But something felt suspicious. You know how kids get extra quiet when they’re up to something? That was the same energy. While brushing my teeth, I followed the muffled whispers to my parents' bedroom. There they were—Mom, with her glasses sliding down her nose, snipping at one of my designer vests like she was auditioning for a late-career episode of Project Runway. Dad was helping by holding the vest straight, all while cheerleading:
“Cut there, right there! Honestly, not many people are as stunning and as handy as you are.”

My brain, overloaded with toothpaste foam and disbelief, immediately thought of phrases like “accessory to the crime” and “conspiracy to destroy fashion.”
Mom looked up and said, “We’re modifying your vest. Your dad said it looked great on me except for the weird tail in the back, so we’re trimming that part off.”
“Cool. Great. Snip away,” I said, walking back to the bathroom. I kept brushing my teeth while thinking about how seventy is apparently the perfect age to start a life of chaos. As I glanced in the mirror, I remembered how much that vest had cost. But honestly, it was just sitting in the closet unworn. Letting my parents have fun with it might actually be the best use it ever had. Kind of like those extra pounds I never needed once they’re gone, I don’t miss them.

Sure enough, by the time I was dressed, the vest was already in the trash bag. Mom admitted, “I couldn’t see clearly. I cut it unevenly.”
“Did you have fun though?” I asked.
She grinned. “It was super fun!”
“Well, that’s what matters,” I said, turning on the vacuum to clean up all the stray threads from their little DIY adventure. As I scanned the room, I realized the place was already covered in new little tasks to tackle.

Knowing I was on veggie duty today, my parents invited me to go with them to the neighborhood farmer’s market. In theory, it was a trip for fresh greens. In practice, the market was a gauntlet of temptation. Besides vegetables, it had fried dough sticks, sweet rice cakes, tea eggs, hot soy milk, and more. It was like a battleground for anyone trying to diet. While my parents chatted warmly with the produce vendors, I stood behind them like a mobile QR code scanner, pretending I couldn’t smell the fried stuff.

By the time we got home, it still wasn’t even the start of my workday. Glorious. I opened our “Two Days On, Five Days Off” spreadsheet and plugged in the latest weight updates. Everyone had lost more weight. Feeling extra proud, I posted a summary in our group chat and translated the numbers into funny, relatable references:

• Labubu: down 2.4 kilograms. That’s like losing a Labubu-themed keychain.
• Piggy Flower (me): down 2.3 kilograms, the same as an empty home rice cooker.
• Mr. Meat Sandwich: down 3.25 kilograms, which equals either seven ultra-light laptops or one newborn baby.

We cheered virtually and started daydreaming about tomorrow’s finale. That’s when the real tests began.

Labubu had a dinner party with a full spread of spicy crawfish and other forbidden delights. I could feel her soul being punched by flavor. Meanwhile, Mr. Meat Sandwich was home, googling how to make "Buddha Jumps Over the Wall," which is either a complex soup or a metaphor for emotional collapse.

We kept chatting, equal parts excited and cautious about tomorrow’s weigh-in. We were planning to meet up, eat real food again, and celebrate our success before launching the next round of barely-hanging-on discipline.

As for the national soccer team? Who knows if they’ll make it through.
But us?

We’ve got our own drama every single day. And honestly, we’re killing it.

天天有戏

有爸妈的在的地方，就有了升腾的生活气息。有多么升腾嗯？就是早上六点不到，家里已经窸窸窣窣热闹了起来。阿姨前一天才刚来保洁过，但是太后总能在所到之处看到家务活，俗称眼里有活。我从卧室走出来，顶着蓬松的卷发，伸个懒腰站在秤前面。只吃水果的一天，成果相当让人满意。一瞬间斗志又回来了，今天菜断，我要好好吃菜。

但我总感觉房间里有人在商量什么事，有些不对。老人和小孩一样，只要凑在一块很安静，没弄出大动静就一定是在筹备什么大计划呢。一边刷牙，一边循着声音找妈妈爸爸。我见到他们时，两位在他们的卧室，我妈拿着剪子，带着老花镜，左手压这一件马甲的前襟，右手正在咔嚓咔嚓往下剪。我爸则是把这件设计师的作品抻直了，帮我妈借力，一边还鼓励我妈，对，就这么剪，你还真别说，像你长这么好看，干活还利索的人不多呀。我脑子里澎湃着几个词汇，为虎作伥，助纣为虐，团伙作案。。。牙刷在嘴里确实限制了我发表意见，我妈一抬头，说，我要改造一下这件衣服，你爸说这件马甲我穿挺好看，就是后面这个燕尾服设计的不好，我们商量着把它剪掉。哦，好，好好剪。我一边走回洗手间，一边继续刷牙，七十多岁正式惹祸的年纪，好好玩吧。一瞬间我感觉当时买这件马甲的价格正在镜子里闪烁，转念一想，放着不穿其实它一文不值。爸妈玩的开心，也算是它的价值体现吧。就像一口一口吃胖的自己，总也用不上的肥肉，减掉了一点不可惜。

果不起然，我梳洗好时，那件被剪坏的马甲已经出现在客厅要丢的垃圾袋子里了。我妈说，看不清，剪歪了。我问，那好玩吗？笑嘻嘻答，挺好玩。好玩就行，我一边说一边打开吸尘器，沿着客厅到卧室的方向把地上的毛线头吸起来。目光所及，眼里全是活。

听说我今天要菜断，爸妈拉着我一起去门口的早市买新鲜蔬菜。可是早市，除了卖菜，还卖早点和其他吃的。在偌大的空旷中，每一声对美食的叫卖都是对我减肥意志的考验。他们带着我买了五穗玉米，两根黄瓜，他们负责和蔬果亲切交流，我负责微信扫码。然后我们鱼贯进入了一家早点摊。炸糕，油条，茶叶蛋，冒热气的豆腐脑，香滑浓稠的豆浆。一个减肥的人，在生机勃勃的烟火气面前，不需要一副铁齿钢牙，她需要的只是一个口罩。

有爸妈在的清晨才算是清晨，我们回到家时，我的上班时间甚至都没有开始。于是我打开“两天晒网”计划的趋势图，把我们三个人的新鲜数据放进去，瘦啦，还瘦了不少呢。然后我在群里发布了大家的成果，为了更直观的鼓舞士气，我把大家掉秤的斤两数和生活对照起来。截止菜断当天，Labubu累计减掉了2.4公斤，相当于Labubu减掉了一个Labubu钥匙链那么大的自己。猪小花，累计减掉了2.3公斤，相当于减掉了一个啥也没往里放的家用电饭锅的重量。肉夹馍，累计减掉了3.25公斤，相当于当于减掉了7台超轻笔记本或者一个新生婴儿的体重。我们七七八八讨论起来，憧憬着明天的大结局。

晚饭时的Labubu有个饭局，摆满小龙虾和各种好吃的图片里，我感受到了Labubu正在接受美食的暴击考验。肉夹馍已经下班回家，正在群里琢磨着怎么制作佛跳墙。我们都很期待明早的上秤结果，又非常谨慎地盘算着真正的“两天晒网”就要来了。我们要聚会，要吃东西，要嘻嘻哈哈，要一起欢庆减肥成功，并未新一轮的晒网计划提前预祝。

国足出线不知道有戏没戏，但是我们，天天有戏。