I've Eaten and I Can't Get Up

I love food.

I mean really, really love food.  Lately, I don't like to make food or clean up from cooking food, so I just order a lot of food.  Fatty, salty, or chocolately food.  And it's all been delicious.  But it's time for the party rockin' to stop in this house, because there is a whole lotta wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle hey going on in my pants.

I break down the gluttony into a few nicely compartmentalized issues:

A)  GIRL SCOUTS - Those little girls in green get right under my radar every year, with their deceptively sweet sales pitches and pictures of them going to camp or whatever.  This year was yet another banner year in my house, with the purchase of at least 16 boxes of Girl Scout cookies.  I can pack away a half box of Thanks Alot before I even REALIZE the box is open and 10,000 calories are shoved in my pie hole.  Don't even get me started on the Shortbreads.  Thankfully I'm not a Caramel Delights fan, but they are crack to Current Husband.  We're gross.

B)  FRIENDS - all of my friends also love food, and since we never have time to get together we tend to schedule it around meals.  Hey, let's meet for a margarita, and a bucket of chips and a trough of salsa and maybe a vat of cheese.  I love my friends, what am I going to say, NO?  I think not.

C)  BOOK CLUB - I love book club, and not just for the kick-ass chicks in my group, but also because they all make great snacks.  So I pack away 3/4 of a bottle of wine and six handfuls of peanut M&M's and that key lime dip with the little graham crackers and the little bruschetta and some kind of delicious meaty thing ...oh, what book did we read?

D)  KIDS - Because I'm almost NEVER going to say no to McD's or pizza or ice cream.  When you're eating like you're 15 but moving like you're 70 and have the metabolism of a dead person, you're going to keep that Canadian Bacon pizza around your waist to keep you warm in the winter.  It's like I'm one of those Doomsday Preppers, I'm just storing the food in my body because I don't have room in my house.

E)  CURRENT HUSBAND - Because I blame him for everything.  Duh.

So about a month ago, a co-worker was complaining about how fat she's getting and I was all, "Oh I'm getting fatter than you!" and we turned it into one of those woman "whose fatter" smackdowns.  We agreed to a few simple rules to try to make ourselves stop eating the 7th meal and lose a few pounds before we had to show some calf:  Weigh in on the Wii Fit, Drink 900 ml of water per day, exercise 30 minutes PER WEEK.  I mean seriously, it's almost embarrassing how low we set the bar.

I go home and get on the Wii Fit Board to weigh in.  First, I get chastised by the woman voice, as in "Well, is this Julie?  It's been 123 days since you last checked in!"  Yes, yes, save the guilt, I've been busy eating Mexican and Girl Scout cookies.  I get on the board and she gives me the surprised groan, "Oooh!!??" Like WHAT THE HELL, FATTY but she can't say it because I'm the customer.  I cringe and wait.  "You've gained 13.8 pounds since your last visit.  It looks like you've passed the deadline for your goal.  Would you like to set another goal?"

Um, yeah.  I'd like to lose 13.8 pounds and appreciate November Julie more.

So far, I've managed to avoid the Y entirely, because I've had pre-planned dinners out with friends, so instead of getting on the elliptical and listening to Kanye, I've been riding a barstool and listening to the sound of fajitas sizzling.  I am down to 200 ml of water left from my original 900 ml from last week.  I have two lunch dates and two dinner dates scheduled in the next three weeks, and Youngest Daughter's birthday is coming, my birthday is coming, and OD's musical is coming, which means people visiting from out of town to see the musical and me making fatty delicious things for the guests to eat, because I'm a giver that way.  It's all about them, of course.

Unless a burqua comes into fashion in the US for Summer 2012, I'm screwed.  It's all very depressing.  What's an instant mood lifter!?  SUGAR!  I'll just eat this last Reese's Peanut Butter Cup and plot my new strategy.  Like a tape worm.  Or amphetamines.

Out of the Meat Locker and Into The Night

I’ve established that Oldest Daughter is in New York City at the moment, living the dream, seeing the hookers, thinking that eating canned beans and ramen for a life of art is better than a cello scholarship.

Art is good, honey, just don't get Sid and Nancy artsy.

(BTW, Gary Oldman is CRAZY good in this 1986 movie.)

Yesterday on my drive home, I was debating with myself if sending her to The Big City was the best idea, (because it’s really best to keep your children in the dark and make them conform to your agenda for them – hello! That’s why we have therapists, people!) and then I had an epiphany: Oh My God, she’s gone! We can openly eat MEAT!

 OD is a vegetarian, but not for ethical reasons – she honestly doesn’t seem to like animals that much – but because it grosses her out. The texture, the look, the taste, it’s just not her thing. Not caring about animals much doesn’t keep her from freaking out a little bit when we eat meat. She doesn’t want the platter of pork chops near her plate, she can’t stand the sight of ground beef, and she had kittens the night I put a whole roasted chicken on the table. Don’t misunderstand, these reactions don’t stop me from putting meat in front of her, we just have to listen to her complain about it. But not last night.

Me at the store in my favorite cap.

I drove to the store and bought all kinds of red meat. Last night I browned two pounds of hamburger and made walking tacos, and the smell of post-cow wafted through the house. I put the entire skillet of meat on the table, and the rest of my family sat down and ate walking tacos in peace. And they were delicious. At this very moment I have a crock pot of beef stew going, and I will savor its red-meatiness without having to listen to how gross it is. I think I’ll accompany my stew with a glass of red wine to really savor the carnivorousness of it all.  Sweet meat freedom.


UPDATE - I get home from work and walk in the door and get bitch-slapped in the face with the smell of burned stew.  HELLO!  CAN NO ONE IN THIS HOUSE SMELL BURNED MEAT?  It turns out that with OD in NYC and YD at a friend's house, there are two men and a dog in the house.  Of COURSE no one can smell it.  I open the crock pot, and apparently I cannot Fix It and Forget It, for it will burn.  I have been a bad wife, because my crocking is full of coal.  But do I panic?  Oh hell no.  I get the boys in the car and drive to Granite Cityfor a meaty sandwich and to join their Mug Club.
 

Delicious.  After my mug, the boys drive me home, and I talk them into watching Breaking Dawn, Part 1 with me.  (Do not test me, I'll get you to watch a Twilight movie.  Your lion WILL fall in love with my lamb, baby.)  They complain about it the whole time, and when it's over talk about how bad it is, and then say, "We'll go with you when Part 2 comes out in the theater." 
I got my meat, my icy cold mug, my sparkly vampire.  We're going to put this one in the WIN column.

What I'm Thankful For

Happy Delayed Thanksgiving, Wifers!

Here are the Top Ten things I am thankful for this Thanksgiving:

1.  I'm done traveling for the year for work.
2.  Village Inn makes pies for taking to Thanksgiving dinners prepared by others.

Nom Nom, Village Inn.

3.  People who know how to cook delicious Thanksgiving meals without my help.
4.  Said people let me go home with minimal cleanup help.
5.  Sleeping in for THREE DAYS.
6.  Breaking Dawn finally coming out, and me finally seeing it.

Thank you, Stephenie Meyer. 

I know this isn't Shakespeare, but STILL. 

7.  Four days off work after 10 days on at work.
8.  Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls with Cream Cheese frosting.

 I think I need this.  Stocking stuffer?

8.  Getting Christmas lights up on house two weekends ago when it was 50 degrees.

Makes me feel like an effing GENIUS.

See George the Superpet looking out the door?

9.  Oldest Daughter's Boyfriend for helping to paint walls in basement construction zone.

Who knew I would benefit so greatly from this relationship?

10.  That my wonderful children have taken an interest in baking without help.  These are Butterscotch Milk Chocolate Chip Cookies, and I have eaten a half dozen, easy.  Warm.  With milk.  Just like heaven.

And of course, I'm thankful for YOU, Gentle Readers!

Hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving!

Cookies for everyone!

Ugh. Make it stop.

Step away, candy temptress!

Must. Stop. Eating.

Someone really needs to do something about how fat I'm getting.

Ugh.

Next year I'm begging someone to give me a chocolate-covered tapeworm and a glass of cabernet.

Happy Halloween.