Tag Archives: health

Dear Fat

Dear Fat,

I’m sure, by now, you understand that I meant it when I said we were done.  I know you’re probably feeling a little out of sorts because we’ve been so close for so long.  I can truly say that I’ve never known anyone to stick as close to me as you’ve been, but while I’ve seen our friendship grow, I’ve also noticed other things.

Remember that time in Junior High- with the ice cream cup?  That was when we first became really well acquainted.  You were so sweet.  Form then on, what started off as a simple sundae turned into daily lunches.

And High School!  Oh how our friendship grew.  I started wondering if you were really bad for me then because my pants size grew, too, but every time I was ready and determined to call it quits, you reminded me of why I fell for you.  You’ve always had that kind of hold on me.  Even when- and I know you’ll be jealous hearing this, but I’ve got to say it- I cheated on you with Volleyball, Track, and a pretty healthy lifestyle, I still couldn’t let you go completely.  I think you knew deep down, though, because you seemed to hold on tighter to me, too.

We could’ve been happy together, you and me.

And then you had to go and ruin it by bringing ’round your friends and family.

The first sign our friendship was nearing its end was when I got pregnant with Camo.  I don’t know why you thought it would be a good idea to introduce your pregnant, hormonal companion to all the other lipids in your life, but that was the first moment I caught a glimpse of the real you.  Pants that used to fit nicely over my hips now struggled to make it past my knees; my cheeks took on a chipmunk-ish appearance; and my once smooth thighs now showed dimples.

What had I don’t that you felt the need to abuse me so?

I vowed then and there that I would distance myself from you, and -while I didn’t shut you out completely- I was content in the fact that our friendship didn’t blossom further.

It didn’t, that is, until I met your cousins lard and pork fat.  Sneaky move, bringing them in to meet me.  They seduced me with Mexican food and teased me with Paula Dean cookbooks.

Suddenly, our friendship was closer than ever.

I know, from our history, that our relationship has been on again/off again, so maybe you think this is just a phase- lots of people go through fads; maybe you think I’ll become an Atkins fanatic.

Let me assure you, this will not happen.  It CAN NOT.

Please don’t be sad.  Its not you- its me.  You’ve stuck by me through thick and thicker; I’m just feeling the need to see who I am without you.

So, this is goodbye.  Please don’t try to look for me- its no use trying to get me back.  Honestly, chances are, you might not recognize me in a couple of months anyways.

I want you to know, I still love you deeply.  You’ll probably always have a place in my heart.  I want the best for you, though, so if you find yourself feeling lonely, please don’t hesitate to make new friendships.  You won’t hurt my feelings.

In fact, I was JUST watching TV the other day and I noticed how many actresses could really use a friend like you.  TELL me that having a Hollywood bud wouldn’t just make your year.

So, that’s it.  I’ll miss you.  Have a great life- I’ll see you in the tabloids!

(Sorry- if you don’t get this pic, you need to watch Dr. Who more.)

~Amber

 

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Spring Cleaning time- grab your survival gear

I really don’t follow all the “in’s and out’s” of groundhogs, so I’m not really sure if its officially Spring or still Winter, but in this house?  We’re Spring Cleaning.  Yep.  Groundhogs be damned, we’re breakin’ out the Swiffers over here.

Honestly, though, I’m a TAD OCD on the cleaning front, so “Spring Cleaning” is almost a weekly thing, but around this time of year, I can blame it on new grass, baby animals and the like.

Yay for excuses!

It can be kind of scary when cleaning certain areas of my home, though.  If you haven’t read it, I wrote a post a while back on how bad things can get over HERE, and I meant every word.  I’ll admit- I only have boys so my experience is a little bit skewed. I  can’t compare it to what it would be like raising girls, but they (boys) just SEEM dirtier.  I mean, even nursery rhymes have pointed out how much more disgusting they can be:

What are little boys made of?
What are little boys made of?

Frogs and snails
And puppy-dogs’ tails,
That’s what little boys are made of.
What are little girls made of?
What are little girls made of?

Sugar and spice
And everything nice,
That’s what little girls are made of.

See?  Mother Goose was a wise old bird..

Seriously, though, no matter what you have -boy or girl- and no matter what room you’re cleaning, you KNOW there are certain areas you skip due to time, patience, etc.  Those places that you’re pretty certain don’t have crumbs that will attract bugs and that aren’t a priority because, well, guests won’t generally check there. Sure, you tell yourself that you’ll get to them one day, but, well, they aren’t a priority, sooo… later.  You’ll get to them LATER.  After all, the kids rooms have mold growing and something moved in the fridge…

For me?  Today was my “later” and the place?  Behind the TV stand.  Normally, this wouldn’t even be a big deal.  I mean, how bad could it be, right?  Its a TV stand, for Heaven’s sake.  So, I stuck the hose attachment onto the vacuum and plunged the tip down into the crevice and…

*thump!*

*thump, thump, THUMP!*

I jumped and almost knocked over the vacuum.  What in the WORLD did I vacuum up?!  A cat?!?  After peering into the vacuum canister, though, I realized- my dust bunnies had morphed into dust jackalopes.

So, the things that I realized on this fine (possibly) Spring day?

  • Evolution.  Its not just for monkeys anymore.
  • When bunnies grow up, they become rabbits.  When DUST bunnies grow up, however, they become household legends.

 

Coffee does, too, count as a food group!

As I sit here in the wee afternoon hours, eyes drooping, body beginning to collapse from complete exhaustion, I’m staring at my coffee maker with longing. I’m typing with one hand while holding the tiny dictator with another, so I’m praying that by using “the Force”, I can start another pot. The phrase “If you don’t succeed, try, try again” comes to mind, but Jacob is staring at me, asking me why I’m making faces and squinting at the kitchen, so I should probably get up and practice my one handed coffee making skills and leave the Jedi tricks to Luke Skywalker.
My gramma would disapprove. She has told me more than once that I need to wean myself off of my black liquid of love and acceptance, but I’m not a quitter. I know that I love coffee more than a normal person should, and in all honesty, I’ve been drinking it so long that it doesn’t REALLY have an effect on me anymore- so why am I trying to get all “Jedi Master” on my Black and Decker? Because, if nothing else, my mind has started to associate coffee with mental clarity. Plus, it keeps my hands busy so that I don’t end up trying to strangle my adorable children when they start imitating the wild apes on the Animal Planet.
I used to refer to my love of coffee as an addiction and coffee as my drug of choice ; used to, that is, until the day that Cameron went to his first grade teacher and told her that his mommy was addicted to drugs. Mental note: kids listen to everything, they repeat everything, but they don’t stop for explanations. It took some doing, but I’m pretty sure that I was able to convince her that I didn’t need to go to rehab. I probably didn’t help the situation, though, when I jokingly went into a small rant about the health benefits of coffee and how, really, the USDA should include coffee as a main staple for nutritional completeness. APPARENTLY, pointing out how a single cup of coffee can be everything from a serving of protein to a serving of fruit (depending on what area you’re lacking in at the time), makes you look like a lunatic.
Whatever.
I’m going to go now and make a pot of probiotics.