Death by Chocolate and Brownies and Cool Whip

I am pretty sure my husband’s trying to kill me.  Last March, I went to the doctor to see why I had suddenly gained so much weight and why I couldn’t seem to drop it after giving up cookies for a few days, which by the way, is how my dad has always done it, and wonders why the rest of us fatasses can’t follow suit.  So after giving up all sweets for over a month and only managing to lose a few pounds, I went to the doctor hoping for some sort of thyroid or tapeworm issue that could be fixed with some pills, which would make the weight slide off without exercise and healthy eating.  Needless to say, he ordered bloodwork to establish a “baseline,” since I was so young and healthy, so when things went astray, we’d know what my “normal” was.  Well, I messed that up.  At 32, my cholesterol was 265, which to explain to normal 30 somethings who have no idea what I’m talking about, anything over 200 is bad news.  I basically have the cholesterol of a 50 to 60 year old, who’s lived a Ron Swanson lifestyle of turkey legs wrapped in bacon and fried snickers bars.  I used to wonder what the big deal was about a Ho-Ho and Pepsi for breakfast, so really, I had this coming.   A cholesterol level of 265 at an older age would put me straight on medication, but because I have a few years to tinker with, we were going to try diet and exercise first.  Anyways, that was March.  I haven’t been back for a follow up since, because I keep dropping the ball and playing mind games with myself that tomorrow I will get back on track and show the doctor that I am super dedicated and be one of those smug, I can do it so can you, type people.  But right now, there are slutty brownies that I must try.   To give me an ounce of credit,  I did really really good for about  a month, but only lost like 3 freakin pounds, so I got discouraged and slid a bit every day.  And slutty brownies are really freakin good (see below).


Back to my homicidal husband.   Mark moved back into our lives a little over a month ago, and God bless him, has taken over the cooking (which for me and the kids means something other than PB&J 4 out of 5 nights a week).  Since then, we have had a steady diet of brinner (breakfast for dinner), complete with tons of eggs (made up mostly of cheese) and bacon.  Lots and lots of glorious bacon.  And trips to Gino’s Pizza, and Saturday breakfasts at McDonalds and Sunday brunch at IHOP.  I am pretty sure I am married to Buddy the Elf, except he likes the meat and potatoes and I am putting syrup on my spaghetti  noodles. Image

Hence why I think he’s trying to kill me.  He knows I could keel over at any moment, but yet, he continues to waive these glorious foods under my nose every hour of the day.  So, if do keel over before 35, you know who to blame.  But just stay quiet so the poor guy can quit looking for another miserable job and live off the life insurance for a while.

PS – You know you want the Slutty Brownie recipe now that I mentioned it.  It truly is worth dying for.

Slutty Brownies


  1. Ann Hayes says:

    Awesome! I think we were truly separated at birth, except for the whole being younger than me. Good new – I made it to 35 and so will you 🙂
    I think we need to start a slutty brownie support group!


  2. Beth says:

    Laughed my ass off at 6:30am when I read this. Witty and sassy. Proud of you Jen.


  3. kathleen says:

    Please keep it up you have a gift!


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