I wasn't feeling well last night, so my husband offered to get some take-out for dinner. He then asked our five year old son what he wanted to eat. Our son replied, "Pasketti." Then he corrected himself and said, "No, no, not pasketti. Sasketti." And again, "No! Not sasketti. I want Spapetti." We were just sitting there, waiting for him to come up with the right word, when he walked over to my husband and said, "Dad, I want chicken."
I ask, "What are your favorite foods?" He says, "I like cauliflower and broccoli. Yum!" I ask, "Then what are your least favorite foods?" With a scrunched up, icky look on his face, he replies, "Vegetables."
Dear fiber one bars, I love you. You are delicious but I am seeing a problem when eating you these days. The feeling of having my intestines trying to come out my nose is causing a wee bit of a problem. Not to mention bubbles. Yes, bubbles. That's as much as I am willing to say for now. I'm not breaking up with you completely, I just won't be seeing you everyday. I hope you understand.
For the better part of a day, I've been craving an apple. Not just any apple–a big red macintosh apple cut up into pieces for me to devour in an easy manner. I thought this was because the secretary that sits outside of my office had an apple. I wondered how an apple so small could create such a big fragrance that would have me, sitting in my office, drooling over its delicious scent. Then I remembered...I put an air freshener in here today...The scent? Macintosh Apple. Sometimes it takes me awhile to be as clever as the average bear.
I bought some new barbecue sauce the other day. Other people have exciting lives where they take expensive vacations to faraway lands and swim with dolphins and meet millionaire movie stars... I get excited by spending a quiet evening at home, trying new kinds of barbecue sauce. What can I say. It's cheaper than plane tickets.
No matter how much you might be craving ice cream, you should not have any when it's 13 degrees outside (with a wind chill of 2 degrees above zero). You will only be left shivering and muttering incoherent fantasies about bathing in hot chocolate with marshmallows.
These days it feels like I now have the ability to gain weight by osmosis. I have to run down the cake aisle in the supermarket for fear of having my cells expand just by breathing in too deeply near the chocolate muffins.
Good thing I never got one of those talking scales from the Sharper Image catalog...Because if I did, mine would be saying, "Girlfriend, what? Did you think you could make a batch of triple layer cookie bars for the kids over the weekend, eat half the pan, and NOT gain a pound?"
I have cut back on spending. Did I give up my cleaners or gym membership? No, I am not ready to be that much of a grown up yet. But I am trying to feed us out of our pantry rather than going food shopping. Sounds reasonable, until you take a peek at the contents of the pantry. It is chock-full of things that seemed "interesting." Apparently, I only go shopping when I am hungry, or feeling creative. So we have lots of candy and condiments I can't pronounce from places I cannot find on a map. Well that stuff, and the things in the back...Last night I fed my husband something from "the back" beef tossed in expired teriyaki and udon noodles with frozen veggies that may or may not have been used as an ice pack. We did not die - so it is back to the pantry shopping next week.
If you've ever hidden leftover pizza, called to lecture your husband (who has found the pizza and taken it to work) about how just because you work at home, that doesn't mean you don't need lunch, then piled the kids in the car and driven 20 miles to retrieve the pizza, you might be a stay at home mom. Who is dieting and is furious that the cheat food is gone, damn it!
I'm hoping someone can tell me why, for the love of God, I can't eat a piece of bread or a granola bar or anything producing crumbs without ending up with said crumbs in my bra, leaving me with itchy, crumb-y boobs that are as bad, if not worse, than the post-haircut hairy boobs. And by hairy boobs, I mean full of hair cut from my head, not Yeti-like nipples.
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