Horrified

I genuinely try to curb my mama bear instincts in most situations. So when my 15-year-old daughter Lilly climbed into our car during the second week of her sophomore year of high school and said that her health teacher was making the class keep a food journal, I fought to quiet the alarm bells going off in my head. “It’s OK, though,” she told me. “Please — PLEASE — don’t send one of…