The Sixth Food Pyramid Part 2, Resolution #11

Again with the eating.  And we had a mini-blizzard yesterday, which forced me to make chicken tortilla soup and eat half a bag of sour cherry balls.  That's right.  I said balls.  

So back to Type 6 Diabetes.  Type 6 Diabetes, a lesser-known form of the disease, happens when you leave the traditional five food groups and exist solely on the Sixth Food Group Pyramid, which looks like this: 

I revert to the pyramid when I am cold and uncomfortable, having a bad day, or am celebrating something.  So kind of all the time.  Let me explain how the pyramid works.  Today is Part Two in a three part series.

 The Middle of the Pyramid is about Weekend Eating

The other day, Mocha Grande asked about fats and salts.  This is the roux, or the base, of weekend eating.  When Current Husband and I were living in sin, we would come home from work on Friday, pull a futon mattress on the floor in front of the TV, and eat chips and dip, pizza rolls, Chinese food, Taco Bell, and drink beer.  And play Sega.  We'd stay up until 2 or 3 a.m., and catch an episode of Star Trek:  Next Generation, because we are cool like that (You must assimilate with the Borg!  Number Two, you have the bridge!  What is this emotion...love?  I am unfamiliar with this term.). 

On Saturday, we'd wake up at about 10 or 11 a.m. and start watching college football/basketball, and then run out to get more Chinese/Mexican/Italian food and rent some movies.  We'd watch Saturday Night Live, and then get another movie in, and go to sleep around 2 a.m.  Sunday morning felt like a good time for some doughnuts from the grocery store a block away, and then we'd eat leftovers from the previous 36-hour gorge and prepare ourselves for the work week.  Oh my Sweet Lord, how I miss those days.  Back when we had minuscule amounts of debt, responsibility or spawn, and ginormous metabolisms.  We never stopped eating like that on the weekend, but CH and I have both experienced a noticeable difference in our metabolism levels since we were in our 20's.  Now we have debt, obligations, offspring and fat.

Here is who I blame:

That's right.  The Girl Scouts of America. 

Why, Julie, why?  The Girl Scouts are wholesome.  They're helpful.  They wear jauntily perched chapeaus.  They sell delicious cookies!"

Let me tell you why.  Because those bitches wouldn't let me in.  That's right.  I, Julie The Wife, am a bona fide Girl Scout Reject.

There are obvious reasons they wouldn't have me.  I'll give you a moment to compile a short mental list.  (OKAY, that's enough!  Stop!  I get it!)   The reason they gave my mother is that we lived too far out of town, and therefore did not fall into their region of 'City Girl Troop 345'.  (Of course, the reason 4H wouldn't have me is that I lived too CLOSE to town, and could not raise livestock.  But hello!  I was NAMED after a COW!  I should be a 4H legacy!)  I lived on a lake in no-man's land, nine miles from town and five miles from a farm, where I could not earn a badge that would train me in the invaluable skills of feeding a family healthy food.  This is the badge that keeps me from my dreams of Domestic Servitude today:

The unattainable, therapy-inducing Family Living Skills badge.

And, as one can easily discern from the badge, this is also why I am not good with housekeeping, laundry, or money.  The badge I HAVE earned:

And this is tattooed on my back fat.

So not only do the girls in green reject me and refuse to teach me how to plan and cook a proper healthy meal for my family, they then undercut any real effort I make to BE healthy by coming around every year in the dead of winter to push their crack-laced cookies.  Which I eat on the weekends.  After my soup, chips, and Taco Bell.

RESOLUTION #11:  Punch the next Girl Scout I see.

Sour cherry balls!  Sour cherry balls to every last one of you and your jaunty berets!

Next:  Part Three in the Sixth Food Pyramid series, on Desserts From Friends.

UPDATE - 10:30 p.m. Tuesday.  Just ordered 10 boxes of Girl Scout cookies from my darling niece.  Punched her mother, who is a Troop Leader.  All is forgiven.