Nothing Is Sacred

Becky's Take on Life, Love, Motherhood and Other Random Stuff

The Cookie Diet- Days 1-3 March 26, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — Becky @ 11:16 pm
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Late one night when I wasn’t sleeping I saw an ad or an infomercial, or something– you know how those things all blend together at 3 a.m.– and people were losing these incredible amounts of weight on this diet by eating 6 cookies a day, and a sensible dinner consisting of A LOT of protein and veggies.

Those of you who have known me for longer than a week know that I have been fighting weight issues since I was in utero. It has been a difficult battle. While pregnancy #1 was kind to me and I actually came out of it 20 lbs thinner than I went in, I was not so lucky with pregnancy #2. I had a high risk pregnancy, was intermittently  put on bedrest, and had ankles that looked like the Michelin Man’s. It was not pretty, and much of the weight I gained stayed around to haunt me for the last 9 years.

So, and I bet you already guessed this, I decided to try the “cookie diet.” I checked out the website thoroughly to make sure these weren’t packed with ephedra or meth, and they aren’t. They are organic and healthful. (I read that as tasteless)  After checking out the different packages and realizing the cost was a bit prohibitive, I decided to go with 2 weeks worth of cookies to help me get used to eating 6 small meals a day and give me jumpstart on weight loss.

The cookies arrive. I check the ingredients and nutrition label. Everything seems okay. I leave them on my bar. Ex comes to house with kids so they can get something. I’m not home. He eats 3 cookies. (The instructions clearly say not to eat more than one at a time.) I discover missing cookies and give him hell. They cost $1.59 each and weren’t meant to satisfy his sweet tooth. I hope his colon got a good scrubbing from all that fiber.

Day 1- It goes pretty well. These are not so much cookies as small snack cakes. There is that nagging suspicion at the back of your brain that you  might actually be eating sawdust. But it is sawdust with some carob chips, so you choke it down. I eat the cookies in 2-3 hour intervals as instructed. I don’t feel hungry. I have a chicken breast the size of my foot to satisy the 10-12 oz. protein at dinner rule, along with a big bowl of veggies with some seasoning.

Day 2- I wake up feeling pretty good about things. The scale indicated I might already have shed a little weight. I grab my morning cookie and glass of water and get the kids to school. By the time I make it to work, a gas bubble so big it could have brought down a buffalo has lodged between my shoulder blades. I have been over-fibered. I am in some serious pain, but I have a magazine to proof and return to the printer, so there’s no slacking off. The pain subsides by noon, but have no desire to eat or drink ANYTHING.

By the time I drag my weary body home, I am in no mood to prepare a meal, but saute some shrimp and vegetables and throw together a salad. I make a mental note of how I prepared the shrimp, because it was pretty good. I read to divert myself from snacking thoughts and sleep well.

Day 3- I’ve never been much of a breakfast eater, so having only the cookie for breakfast is no big deal, but I am starting to miss lunch. I discover I can have part of my dinner protein at lunch (but no veggies then). I will certainly be trying that tomorrow. I am in the produce section of WalMart when I realize that they have placed the donut case next to the fruits and veggies. What, I ask you, is wrong with that picture? After resisting the urge to take a dive into the apple fritters, I acquire my healthy turkey breast from the deli counter.

So, can I do this for 11 more days? I can. All while being astounded at how much food is shown on TV and mentioned in books. *sigh*

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Did I Come To the Party Too Late? March 24, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — Becky @ 11:08 am

It occurred to me that I will have been divorced a year next month. I have yet to date anyone. It’s not that there is anything wrong with that. It has been time well used, getting my head together, thinking about the things I really want from my life, and figuring out how to avoid the same mistakes I’ve been making for the last 20 or so years. 

So, no, I haven’t been out there lookin’ for me a man to bring home. I mentioned in a previous post that I had looked into an online dating site. I did the free registration thing and the prospects were not good. First of all, I’m 5’10”. They kept sending me matches that were  5’5″ and not much taller. What am I supposed to do with that? He would be visiting with my chest, and unless my breasts learn to speak, the conversation is going to be extremely limited. Can you imagine dancing with someone 5 inches shorter? It would give a whole new meaning to “Put Your Head on My Shoulder.” (Uh, dude, that is NOT my shoulder)

Then there was what I like to refer to as “The Oklahoma Factor.” It turns out that men from Oklahoma have a propensity to wear a lot of camouflage, and pose next to mounted animal heads for their photos,(because nothing says romance like Bambi’s mom hanging on the wall in the den.) and, of course, there are those who like to deck themselves out in cowboy regalia.  Gentlemen, you are trying to attract a woman, not a woodland creature, or a steer. Most women (obviously not all) are put off by the appearance of dead animals hanging on a wall. Reconsider your profile picture and have your buddy Bubba take a candid of you without the cowboy hat that covers your face and the belt buckle that covers your stomach and thighs. If you want to spend your weekends shooting at God’s creatures adorned in camouflage overalls, go for it, but for having your photo taken some jeans and a decent shirt make very nice attire. 

Understand, I am no beauty queen. I know that. No one is ever going to refer to me as “the hot chick.” I do, however, practice good personal hygiene, wear clothes that don’t look like I purchased them at the local farm supply store, and keep my wall decor down to some artwork and photos. 

All of this has left me wondering if it is too late for me to find  someone special. I am no longer the dreamer that I was as a teen, and I realize that romantic love is nice at first, but real love is the guy who holds your hair back while you are puking because you are carrying his child. Or, do I even want to find someone? There are advantages to living with just your children. 

Admittedly, there are nights when I miss having someone to talk to at night, especially when I can’t sleep. But would I really want to give up all that extra space in the bed?

 

Has Facebook Lost Its Mind? March 18, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — Becky @ 5:40 pm
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The folks at Facebook need to get a grip on reality and quit changing things around. Seriously, what is this consistent, overwhelming need they have to change things up? I have heard of “wanderlust,” but these people seem to have “change-it-up-lust.”

I adapted to the last change fairly easily, but this most recent one has thrown me, and hundreds of thousands of others for a loop. According to the application “What do you think of the new Facebook layout,” approximately 287,000 people (at 5:37 p.m. CDT) hate the new layout. Only 22,000 or so like it. And the number of haters is growing by the second. The group “Change FACEBOOK Back” has over 40,000 members. Facebook are you hearing us??

I can’t find the things I want or need to use. I have a “news feed” of some kind sandwiched in between status updates letting me know that some dude I knew 20 years ago sent “peeps,” “Easter bunnies,” “lucky clovers,” or other such things to 40 people I’ve never heard of. Is this something I need to know?

Also, what is that mess on the right hand side of the page telling me how many of my friends are using what applications? Again, why do I need to know this? I actually preferred the adverts for the I.Q. tests.

No longer are my apps where I can easily find them. There are a few on the left hand of the page, but other than that I have to hope I have them bookmarked, or go trolling for them– not sure that’s worth the effort. Also, I hate the way it hijacks my status every time I post a link, or comment on something that someone else has posted.

Status updates need to be on the home page where they have always been, and news feeds need to be off someplace else where we can look at them if we want to, as opposed to having them forced down our throats everytime we log on to Facebook.

Admittedly I am getting older and I’m not a big fan of change, but this goes straight over the edge of change, right into ridiculous. Perhaps the powers-that-be at Facebook enjoy a good controversy. They change the page layout up, drive all their users out of their minds, and sit back and have a good chuckle at our expense. What they need to remember is, that even though the service is free, someone has to click on those ads for them to make money. If the majority of users refuse to click on the ads, the cash flow will be impaired.

 

Bathmats, HazMats, B*tchiness, and Tonsillitis March 17, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — Becky @ 11:24 pm

It’s been a trying day. Not bad, just trying. Z10 told me last night that her throat was getting sore, so I had her gargle with warm salt water– my grandmother’s secret weapon against sore throats. No go.

She still wasn’t feeling better this morning so I called into the Dr.’s office to get her an appointment. Of course, our Dr. is off somewhere enjoying his Spring Break, so we get an appointment with the Nurse Practitioner. She’s a nice person, but it is like being treated by RainMan. Even the lovely ladies at the front desk  know this. They actually apologize when they are forced to give you an appointment with her.

In the meantime I put Z10 in my bed with the TV remote and donned my HazMat suit so I could clean the kids bathroom. I put my handy little Shark steamer (http://www.sharkvac.com) (I’m giving them a plug because this thing is FABULOUS!) on to boil and I entered the bathroom with fear and trepidation, armed with my yellow rubber gloves and an assortment of cleaners. 45 minutes later I emerged, red-faced, sweaty(although the steamer gives you a nice facial), smelling like the Soft Scrub factory, and cursing my children. How in the world does the room you go to get CLEAN in get so FILTHY?

I collapsed in exhaustion only to realize that I had to shower and get ready so I could get the princess to her appointment. We made it. She has tonsillitis (again!).

We headed to WalMart for ibuprofen and lozenges. By this time I was feeling cocky from the time spent spring cleaning  in the bathroom and decided a new bathmat was in order and maybe a new towel or two. Why didn’t someone just shoot me with a tranquilizer dart at this point and save me the agony? Because, although I bought my cute, funky brown shower curtain with the teal polka dots at WalMart, they have not. one. freaking. bathmat. that. matches. I get my peanut butter and bags of salad and remove myself from the store whose name I shall not speak again.

On the way home I stop at Lowe’s and pick up a beautiful hanging basket for my front porch. It perks the front of the house up considerably, but I still don’t have my bathmat. Grrrr.

Z10 decides to hang out at my mom’s house with Z9 who seems to have been surgically attached to his Nintendo DS. I separate him from it and send him outside to absorb some Vitamin D, while his sister finds a place to lay down and rest.

I head to the drug store to pick up antibiotics and lo and behold, not only are they ready, but RainMan has gotten the right drug to the right pharmacy. I’ve been a little leery of that ever since she sent a scrip for an anti-fungal medication for the nether regions to the pharmacy when the problem was in my MOUTH.

Upon returning home my cell phone rings and I wonder what has possessed me to become so connected that people can locate me virtually anywhere. (Here I will interject a story about my aunt’s friend who once had her paged in Kmart. My aunt’s response was “that woman could find me in hell.” And this was before the days of cell phones.) I answer, only to hear b*tchiness that I am not in the mood for, and don’t want to hear. I count to 10, keep my  thoughts to myself, and put my towels in the dryer.

Spring cleaning will continue tomorrow. I have a clean kitchen rug, but I still don’t have a bathmat.

 

What The…..? March 16, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — Becky @ 4:19 pm
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I am happily channel surfing, looking for the least offensive thing television has to offer. Sappy movie on the Hallmark channel, no. Freaky movie on the SciFi channel, nyet. Sub-titled Japanese movie on some channel I didn’t even know I got, nope. And then, with no warning whatsoever, my eyes are assaulted by a view of someone’s innards. I fumble at the remote buttons trying to change the channel before my retinas are burned any further.

Was this in the cable contract? Who, aside from people in the medical field, wants to watch this stuff? I would think even the doctors, nurses and EMT’s would like a break from the gore.

Should Jane Q. Public have to have her Lean Cuisine ruined by accidentally stumbling upon Mary Sue’s gastric bypass operation in full, living color? I will admit to occasionally getting sucked in by the human interest aspect of some of the stories, but I hate the icky parts.

It’s not just health programming that does this, either. The CSI, NCIS, SVU and other alphabet show folks seem to think I need to have realism is my life. No. I do not need to see the details of the victim’s autopsy, with their chest laid wide open while they repose on a metal table. Just tell us the cause of death and get on with solving the crime. Leave how you found the cause of death to our tiny imaginations.

We should also talk about childbirth. If I had wanted to see a woman put her va-jay-jay to the wind and give birth, I would have actually watched the childbirth video in my birthing class instead of just pretending. Likewise, if I had wanted to watch a c-section in progress I would have said “yes” when they offered to point the mirror in that direction during my own c-section. I could see a reflection in the overhead light in the OR. When I looked up and saw the scalpel drawing blood across my belly I clamped my eyes shut and didn’t open them until they brought my precious baby girl over to me.

I say skip the gore and stick to the good bits. Let’s see Mary Sue 100 lbs. lighter, the victim’s killers brought to justice, and cute little babies, tightly swaddled in blankets, snuggling in their mom’s arms.

 

9 Years March 13, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — Becky @ 10:44 pm
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9 years ago at this time I was going into labor– 2 weeks early. As I like to remind my son, it was a long labor, in which he resisted making his entrance into the world, so it culminated in having him surgically removed from my belly.

He was coming out whether he wanted to or not.

And never in my life have I been so glad to see a woman coming at my spine with a huge needle.

At about 1:30 that next afternoon the nurse stuck her head back through the OR door to inform us all that “Bubba weighed 11 lbs 3 oz.”

He’s been affectionately called Bubba ever since. And he’s remained as stubborn as he was that first day when he decided he liked the comforts of the womb, and he didn’t want to leave after all.

Since my children are close in age, I’m not sure I had the perspective on parenting that I thought I did after having had my first one around for only 21 months, but the last 9 years have taught me much.

9 years have shown me that I can do (and have done) things that would take down some very rock solid men. Witness me *not* turning my head away when they started stitching my one year old’s forehead shut, although I was tempted. The little dude who was crying and strapped to a papoose board needed me more than I needed to not have that image in my mind forever.

9 years have taught me that I can function on 3 hours of sleep, and I may nod off at inopportune moments, but usually not while driving.

9 years have allowed my ears and brain to know the difference between blood-curdling, “mommy, I’m hurt” screams, and blood-curdling, “I hate my sibling and am going to kill him/her” screams. One requires my immediate attention, while the other requires me to pray that some time in the future they will like each other.

9 years let me know that some of the most basic character traits must be genetic, but I still have no idea where that hard-headed gene comes from. *looks around the room innocently*

The last 9 year have been a learning experience, and yes, there are days when I know why some mothers eat their young, but there are other days that make it a completely worthwhile experience.

I’m sure the next 9 years will be equally filled with learning opportunities, and by the time I deal with all of the teen angst and social ills, I will be longing for the days of diaper rash, baby-proofing, and midnight feedings.

Happy Birthday ZJG! You’ll always be my Baby Bubba 🙂

 

I Am Not Old March 12, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — Becky @ 10:41 am
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Of course, I am old, according to my children, but I remember thinking that my parents were old when they were 40.

Now, 40 is the new 25, right? Most 40 year olds don’t look 40. I don’t think I do, but when I asked my daughter she said I did. Pffffftttt! 

Science has brought us a long way in the last 30 years. We’re all trying to stave off aging by eating healthier, taking 2 handfuls of supplements every day, smearing ourselves with gallons of youthful potions, and pounding along on the treadmill until our teeth clatter out of our heads. 

I’m not arguing the merits of healthy living, after all, I have enough lettuce, carrots, and other veggies in my fridge to feed an army of bunnies for several weeks. What I do wonder about is why we are all so desperate to NOT get older. We’ve all heard it, with age comes wisdom. In many cultures, the elderly are revered. In our culture it is more important to not get old and to have everything bonded, nipped and tucked. It won’t be long before most of our society is walking around looking 30 on the outside, but with the insides of a 70 year old. 

I see lots of 80’s nostalgia things these days, and, admittedly, I had a good time in the 80’s, but I also had really bad hair-do’s. Is it a longing to be the teens we once were? The ones who were on the cusp of a changing world? We saw the Cold War end and watched the walls of communism fall, and had hopes that the world our children would live in would be a better one. It’s not, and, unfortunately, no amount of botox can change that.

I prefer not to return to the days of my youth. I know so much more now than I did back then, and all the mistakes I have made have served me well in one way or another– even though they seemed devastating at the time. So, we should all keep eating our veggies, and contorting ourselves into impossible positions during yoga class, but we should also remember that 40 isn’t necessarily so much older, as it is wiser.