Basically, it’s a 7-day “cleanse,” which I am thinking is just another name for “Cranky, hungry and pooping my brains out,” but it’s basically 7 days of fruits, veggies, tanker trucks of water and some lean beef thrown in, so it’s not totally unhealthy or crazy. I did about 10 minutes of googling opinions on it, and basically I got the feeling it wasn’t something you should do long-term, but it’s a good way to kick start a diet. Right before the holidays. I am a freakin genius I know.
So just a fair warning, if you see me over the next 7 days, chances are I will not be the happiest person, as I tend to gain emotional satisfaction from food, and fruits and veggies just don’t calm me down quite like a brownie sundae might. This old school skit from SNL will be pretty much constantly running through my head.
Just sitting here on a Saturday night, watching my husband play Modern Warfare with his geek virgin friends also gaming on a Saturday night. I am trying to get him to change his avatar name to RPatz4eva, but he isn’t buying it, so I thought I’d write about my ongoing obsession with food.
Food. I love food. Unfortunately, I am surrounded by people who also have the same problem as me, and a husband who has no idea what healthy cooking is, and let’s face it, his way of cooking is delicious and irresistible. Plus, when he cooks, I am not, and I hate cooking, no matter what my Pinterest page says. He cooks bacon by the pound and thinks that if he tells me not to eat it, that will somehow stop me from punching him in his junk to get past him to the bacon….or the cupcakes…or ice cream….whatever. The stuff just can not be in the house. So that way when the time comes, like now at 10 p.m. at night and I am desperately rummaging through my cabinets in search of crap, I find none, and have to eat a Nutrigrain bar or worse, an apple. But no, I have approximately 5 lbs. of Halloween candy that I totally pushed my kids to trudge up and down blocks and blocks of soggy wet, cold weather so I could eat it all when they go to bed. And I don’t just have a piece, no, I eat until I am slightly nauseous. The day after Halloween, I ate three pieces for breakfast. Breakfast. Seriously.
I have this really annoying guy at work, who’s all into working out and eating healthy, telling me on Friday that I should eat Chia seeds (yeah, like the Pet, which by the way, totally sells me on EATING them (sense the sarcasm), which are super healthy and delicious and he feels great all the time and has great energy. This guy also doesn’t eat the donuts on Tuesdays and “splurges” on the bagels on Friday, and always frowns and gets all judgey when the rest of us are gorging ourselves on the free chocolates a vendor dropped off, or the awesome spinach artichoke dip our co-worker makes. Grrr. Insert eye roll here and sarcastic comment about the ability to put the seeds on a donut and I exit the conversation. Healthy people are annoying. People who don’t exist to eat annoy me. Don’t talk to me about being healthy. I know how to eat, what to eat and how much to be a healthy, energetic, happy, fit woman. I know this. I know that when I work out I feel better. I know when I drink tons of water, I crave less sugary junk. I know that de-sugaring gets easier after the first week, but I always fall back into it. I love it. I love food. I am the fat kid with cake. It’s like my crack, except at least you can give up crack and never see it again. Food you need to live. I should eat to live right? No way, I come from a long line of living to eat. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday for God’s sake. How fat is that??? Forget presents, family time, just give me Grandma’s homemade stuffing and some pumpkin pie and I am in heaven.
I want to be like you healthy people. I don’t want to eat candy like it’s my job. I don’t want to crave crap food like Chef Boyardee and Swiss Cake Rolls. I don’t want to love regular Pepsi, which btw, is free at work. They are accomplices with my husband in the conspiracy to kill me. (To my credit, I have kicked this habit. I still love me some pop, but at least I can tolerate Diet with the help of transitioning through Coke Zero. God bless you sugar substitute, BUT, have I lost weight? Negative. Annoying.) But, I still drink pop, at least 2 a day, and I hate water with a passion. Yuck, so boring. And apparently the aspartame in Crystal Light negates the water I am consuming (so says healthy work guy), so that’s not a good compromise. No, it has to be the boring flavorless water, or nothing.
I don’t want to go into serious depression for the two months that Netty’s is closed to sell Christmas trees, even though I am lactose intolerant and spend most of the 2 a.m. hour cursing my medium swirl soft serve cone. It’s totally worth the pain, and I will do it again and again. But then, do I feel working out is worth the same pain? Not enough to do it more than 3X in a row. Just ask my sister, who when I told I was running in the mornings, laughed out loud because I had only done it twice so far, and she knew, just knew, it wouldn’t last much longer…and she was right. I didn’t do it again.
So anyways, here I am fighting the good fight. Problem is, my cholesterol is still sky-high and I keep gaining weight. I have to do something soon or my husband will be raising my kids alone, which scares me because I see zip ties as Gracie’s ponytail holders and Will never being able to pursue dance like I totally know he wants. So, therefore, I have to do SOMETHING. Any ideas? Mark has offered to punch me in the face when I open the fridge in a Pavlonian-dog type of training, but I think the outside world would frown on my black eyes. And really, if there is anything pumpkin in that fridge, I’ll take the black eye. I’ve thought of hypnotism, but that hypnotist has be freakishly good at their job for my subconscious to out talk my conscious brain heading for a late night Ben & Jerry’s.
Well, writing this helped curb my current obsession with eating, maybe I should just post an ode to food every night I get these cravings? …Wait, nevermind. Just re-read and really want some Ben & Jerry’s.
I am a bit of a lull after only two posts. Awesome I know, but I have something I want to write that I can’t share here yet and it’s taking up all the brain matter that is not currently covered with melted chocolate, unpaid bills, and smutty books. Mainly because it’s about sex, and only my family reads this so far, so it would just become awkward at family functions, so I’ll wait a bit. But, I might submit it in secret somewhere and fingers crossed, just might get published writing embarrassing things about myself. I’ll keep you posted, if there’s anything to post, which most likely there won’t, so you’ll all be saved the embarrassment of picturing me naked. Shudder. If you do, picture it 10 years and 40 pounds ago please.
Anywho, I thought I’d give you some parenting confessions to entertain you and make you feel just a little bit better about your life.
At 2 years old, Will dropped the F-bomb completely in context. He comes running up to me and says, “MOM! Michael’s fuckin around.” Like I should do something about it. NOW. Let’s just say I freaked the fuck out and made him repeat it at least five more times to verify he did in fact say what he said. Then I got angry. What horrible bastards are saying this shit around my kids??? The daycare? My in-laws? My sister? WHO?? Then, I realized. Shit, it was me. Driving to daycare that morning, I realized I had yelled, with my children in the backseat, to the driver beside me who was slowly merging into traffic to “Quit fucking around already.” Yep. Pretty epic parenting fail.
BTW, I haven’t quite learned my lesson, as this Sunday at the breakfast table, I told Mark to “Quit being a douche,” which apparently is just as funny to them as it is to me, and no, I will not explain what a douche is, other than their father was being one at the moment.
Likewise, my kids recently “made” up a word that they think it hilarious. The word? Twat. Yep, now, I admit, I tend to swear like a sailor at times, but frankly, this just isn’t a word I choose to use on a regular basis. They seriously put the constants and vowel together and made up what they thought was a funny word and then proceeded to sing-song it all the way down the aisle at Target.
I worry that Gracie might be a stripper. She really likes to dance and take her clothes off. Scares the bejeesus out of me.
I am secretly overjoyed that Will and Gracie both know the Single Ladies dance by Beyonce. Honestly, it’s adorable. Next up, vogueing.
This is a confession from Mark. I know you hide in the bathroom to play video games. No one can poop that much in one day. Seriously. I’m on to you honey.
I used to hate the grocery store. Now, if alone, I will stay there for hours. Pick the longest line to wait in. Watch the fish like some crazy lady by myself. Walk the organization aisles like I am actually going to organize my house one day. Maybe read a chapter of my book in the car before I even go in. The longer the better.
I know I am not the only one who does this, but I hide the good food from my kids. Oreos? Mine. Good ice cream? Mine. Brownies? Hidden until they fall asleep. Sometimes, when I can’t wait for them to go to sleep, I hide in the corner of the kitchen with the lights off and shovel Oreos into my mouth at what I am sure is a world record pace. Wait, that sounds sad. Nevermind. I don’t do that.
Mark and I play this game with a vengeance. It’s called pretend you’re sleeping until the other person gets tired of hearing the kid scream and gets up. Oh don’t get all judgy, you all do it. Not the blood curdling, something’s wrong scream…the scream that says, I peed/pooped/threw up all over the room and need you to clean it up, or I want to play at 3 a.m. with no intention of going back to sleep for the rest of the day scream. I’d say we are equally good at it.
OK – enough confessions for today. Got any to make me feel better? Please don’t call Child Services. I do love my kids and they are well fed, not neglected and honestly turning into pretty decent human beings. I promise.
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.
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.