Italian Mother Syndrome, more commonly known as IMS. To my knowledge, I am one of the only young women out there afflicted with this rare, untreatable disease.
I was diagnosed with IMS as early
as high school. Symptoms included doorway-wide hips, a moustache like my
mother's, and my persistent clarion call of "Eat something!!!" My
friends started to suspect something was amiss when I kept getting cast
as mothers, old women, and tough broads in school theatrical
productions. Thank God they were paying attention--I thought all young
women with any sense acted this way. Turns out I was wrong.
the years since, I've slowly come to accept my situation. True, I worry
about everything and everybody constantly. I fawn over every baby that
crosses my lap. I will prepare fresh, healthy food for anyone whose
stomach makes so much as a peep. I adore hugging people, and then
smacking them. I was recently cast as a 40-year-old woman in a community
play. (The man who played my 18-year-old son was 10 years older than me
in real life.) I would rather be married than date. And I will never be
a size 2.
But when all is said and done, IMS isn't
such a bad thing to have. It's made me passionate, earthy, loving, and
dedicated. Nobody's complained about all the free meals and hugs. I'll
Now for god's sakes, mangia. (Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what am I gonna do witchoo ...)