Not Everything is About Fat

It occurred to me today that I place way too much emphasis on fatness. Not everything is about fat. After all, I'm having a wonderfully invigorating neighbor feud with the idiots that live next door and it doesn't have ANYTHING to do with me being fat. The short version: Their five year old wonder dumpling rang the doorbell twice and slammed the door knocker in an attempt to see if my six year old could come out to play at 9 PM on a weeknight, not to mention a school night. Well, my wondrous icon of childhood virtue was in bed already because we've got our priorities straight and since I was sick, I was already asleep and my hubs was out of town on business. So when the wonder dumpling did her iconic thing, it scared the crap out of me. The following day I said to the dumpling's cow mother, "We need a new rule about Dumpling ringing our door bell." Whereupon Cow Mama jumped on her 12 year old daughter's head, screeching about the fact that the 12 year old was supposed to be watching her. So the 12 year old did what any self serving, borderline hysterical personality with the mama from hell would do and LIED. "It didn't happen." Bill Clinton would salute in sheer appreciation. So I said I didn't appreciate being called a liar and Cow Mama leaped upon me with her claws fully bared. I believe the gist of it was that since it only happened once (the five year dumpling with trigger door bell finger) then it wasn't a problem (and how dare I complain about it) and since the 12 year old is only a 12 year old and virginly pure of evil malcontent, then I was judging her by adult standards (the 12 year lying about me.) Well, at that point communication pretty much melted down. Now I'm tempted to fire a BB gun out the garage window at their tires, kiddie pool and dog because I'm feeling pissy.

So look so not about fatness. It's about idiot neighbors ticking me off. Now I have ranted and gotten it off my chest, I feel so much better. Thank heaven for blogging.

Diet No. 3

The diet came. The diet went. The pounds went. The pounds came back. I did exercise, however. My sarcasm knows no limit. Alas, my stomach is still fat.

The Demon Papa John's

So there ends the five day diet. I lost four pounds. How did it end? It's a complicated story. My daughter was ill. A gastrointestinal event. (Out of more than more orifice.) So she's feeling better. I ask (herein lies the biggest error) what she wants to eat. She says, "Pizza." (This is followed by the second error.) My husband, who is also on the DIET, says, "I want a meat eaters." My initial plan was to get a small cheese pizza for the munchkin and we get eat that with salad. It sounds good. It would have worked. NOT. So what did we get. The small pizza with cheese. The medium meat eaters (because it does not come in small, those rotten papa john bastards and their wicked planning against all the fat people.) And an order of honey chipotle wings for me. (I love their wings, those creeps.) And I did it all on the Internet because I've got it all set up from the pre-diet days. (Advice to people on diets. Disable your Papa John's accounts.)

Anyway, DIET NO. 2 of 2010 has now commenced. May it last more than five days. Curse you, Papa John's!

New Year, New Diet

All right. Here goes diet no. 1. This is the first diet of the year sometimes the result of the dreaded RESOLUTION (defined as that awful, terrible thing that you do that people say you shouldn't do, but secretly you love doing, so you really don't want to quit, yet you're forced to make a formal declaration of intent, which is kind of like war in the Gulf, in order to placate friends, relatives, and yes, your psyche.) So far I've lost six pounds. SIX POUNDS. Then I read about this woman who eats the lite stuff at Taco Bell and lost 54 pounds. Excuse me while I double check my figures there. Ok. I was right. Christine whatsherface eats at TB all the time and orders from the fresco menu (Also known as the stuff that tastes like crap because there's no fat content in it at all, and btw it's about as Mexico as my Aunt Petunia.) So she limits herself to 1250 calories a day and that must mean she gets to eat twice. Since I've seen the after shot of Christine in a bikini, I figure the woman must have a trainer and run twenty miles a day. So I don't think the TB diet would work for me. Back to my diet. More veggies. More fruit. Less bad for me stuff. More exercise. My skinny trainer, Colleen, is on my case again. She's ready for me 'to take the next step.' I hate skinny people. Skinny people who have never been fat (five pounds DOES NOT count.) (Hell, twenty pounds doesn't count.) don't really understand the fat mentality. (An idea for a doctoral thesis: Understanding the Fat Mentality: from the view point of a fat woman.) So with that in mind. Please think of me while you're eating tato chips and brownies. I'm starving to death. I'm sick of lettuce and it's only the 8th of January. Yikes. I'm in trouble again.