I must confess. Since the holidays I’ve been chowing down like it’s my last few days on earth. Yours truly is eating like calories don’t count. So I’m not counting them. I’m going to be cremated so I’m not worried about fitting into a casket; I’m more concerned about fitting into my pants tomorrow.
If only it were this easy
Now don’t get me wrong. I have no plans to die anytime soon and I don’t mean to make light of death (even though this is presumably a humor blog). I also know I’m being extremely superficial here…all points worth noting before I continue.
I’m joining a friend for a movie and I’m bitterly aware of the fact I have few pants that are not, shall we say, uncomfortably snug. Besides, I feel better when I’m 10 pounds lighter than I currently possess. It’s hard to accomplish that, though, when one is a sugar addict, as I wrote in Confessions of a Sugar Addict.
I have to say I’m writing this sorely aware of pretty much every muscle in my body. I say sorely because I believe I feel pain in just about every fiber of all 640 muscles. Did you know we have that many? Me neither. I had to look it up. But my point is, I feel pain in all of them.
Let me explain…remember when I juiced for 10 days to help cleanse my system of the baked Cheetos and taffy I keep stashed in the console between the front seats of my SUV? You don’t?! Well then you need to read my post: Welcome To My Detox.
Turns out I spend an inordinate amount of time in my vehicle traveling to trap feral cats for spay/neuter. A gal gets hungry you know. Nothing worse than trapping at Dillon Beach miles from a grocery store when a hankerin’ for cheese and crackers hits. So I keep a stash of edibles in my console. Sometimes they aren’t what one would call healthy snacks. Hence the cleanse. Continue reading
You know those commercials advertising drugs with inventive medical names like Farxiga and Otezla? What about the ones they tout but never actually mention what they’re for? What’s that all about? I suppose they want us to guess.
Okay, I’ll play along. Let’s see…a couple is strolling through a flowering field, hand in hand on a beautiful spring-like day. Is this a pill for allergies? Doubt it or wouldn’t they just say so?
Well, he’s looking at her lovingly. Maybe it’s a drug for erectile dysfunction (like we need more of those). Hmm…but she’s also looking at him with a twinkle in her eye, so perhaps they’re pushing a pill that enhances female arousal (now we’re talkin’). Continue reading
The fact that you’re reading this is proof I didn’t kill myself on this, my 9th day into my juice cleanse. And I’ve not killed anyone else either. Of this I’m quite proud. You see, I wasn’t so sure what would happen when I began my attempt to dislodge myself from craving sugar and get back on track with better eating habits. Let’s just say I figured it would be ugly.
…and nobody died
When I began, I expected to be ridiculously cranky going through withdrawals by juicing throughout the day, although eating a dinner of vegetables. The later hasn’t been that tough since the last time I ate meat was April 11, 1990.
Paul McCartney once said if slaughterhouses had glass walls, everyone would be vegetarian. I saw through the glass wall that April day and that did it for me. (I’ll spare you a photo. You’re welcome.) Now back to my cleanse…
Okay here’s the thing. I’ve been a bad girl with what I’ve been sticking into my mouth. Wait! I should put that another way: Lately I’ve been eating poorly. How’s that?
I do a ton of baking around the holidays, this year being no exception. If you think I didn’t sample one or more of the 43 pumpkin-cranberry breads I made, then you might be lacking in common sense.
Now don’t get me wrong. I sampled more than just the breads. Naturally, I had to “taste test” my fair share of the peppermint/chocolate cookies, Ritz crackers filled with peanut butter then dipped in chocolate (tastes divine) and the pretzels topped with caramel and again dipped in chocolate — to mention just a few. Continue reading