Wednesday, May 9, 2012

At the end of my fat rope

I've been watching Mr. D waddle back and forth from his office to the kitchen for the past 2 hours. So far I've counted 3 trips. Each trip, he grabs something to eat.

This whole "Let's eat healthy" business isn't working out so well. He is resistant. I expected it, of course. You don't go from eating every thing your heart desires in unlimited amounts to eating "rabbit food" in smaller portions and not have some kind of backlash. But it's so damn hard and I don't think it's supposed to be.

I started out by introducing a salad at every meal and adding more veggies into our diet. Well, that didn't exactly work. So I went back to what we usually eat and tried to modify it. Instead of tacos or nachos, we had taco salad with grass fed beef and organic chips. He lost the salad part of that and ate the whole bag of chips and all the meat and didn't think about the lettuce. I made hamburgers, again with grass fed beef and some whole wheat buns that didn't have anything bad in them. Nope. hated the buns. I made spaghetti with wheat pasta and ground chicken instead of beef. No, that wasn't very good to his mouth either. And forget making a sandwich using the healthy ingredients I bought when it was lunch time. He'd just run out to Taco Bell.

He wonders why I have been so grouchy and untouchable in the past couple of weeks. It's mostly because I'm so angry at him, I don't even want to LOOK at him at this point.

I don't know really what to do anymore. I lost it at him last week [which I really HATE to do] and yelled at him for going to Taco Bell for lunch. He said I shouldn't be mad because after all, I'm getting health benefits from all this, too, but I AM angry. He wants to eat junk food and really, that's all I want, too, but we CAN'T be like that. We are run down and tired all of the time. He's got all these medications that he's on now. I haven't been to a doctor but I know my health isn't very good either. I'm trying so hard to fix us and I feel like he doesn't appreciate a single thing. He doesn't LIKE anything that I make anymore because of all the modifications. I think it's all pretty decent. I can't even taste a difference most of the time. I enjoy flavoring the meals with lots of fresh herbs and veggies. I like the grass fed beef. I don't mind not eating red meat all the time. I'd really like to eat more fish but it would be wasteful to buy it since he really really doesn't like seafood of any kind. But some people don't and I understand that. But the guilt that I feel when I know he doesn't like a meal is overwhelming. It shouldn't be, but it is.

Last night I told him to just pick a place for dinner. ANYTHING he wanted to eat, I would go get it because we didn't really have anything to make and I want him to be able to still eat things he does like once in a while. He chose Popeye's fried chicken. Okay, fair enough, I did say ANYTHING. So I got it. And we ate. By the time I went to bed, I felt so miserable, I wanted to unzip my body and step out of it in some way. I couldn't get comfortable to save my life. I allowed, yet again, his way of eating to make me feel bad.

He's in the kitchen again getting something to eat.

Jesus take the wheel...

Sunday, April 29, 2012

Fifty Shades of "Are you kidding me?"

So Friday, I read "Fifty Shades of Grey." I've been hearing a lot about it, even on the Dr. Oz show [and I love Dr. Oz!], but I didn't really know the storyline other than this girl gets into a Dom/sub relationship with some guy. But all these women were screaming about how SEXY it was and how it made them horny. Well, my libido certainly isn't where it should be, and I usually enjoy reading popular novels, so I figured I'd give it a go.

Dr. Oz? You failed me.

First of all, this whole thing started off as Twilight fanfic. Do you hear what I'm saying? TWILIGHT FAN FICTION. And as Twilight was as poorly written as most fanfic out there, that gives you a general idea of how bad the writing is in this book. Not to mention that a lot of scenes/phrases in the book seem to be directly lifted from Twilight in the first place. Christian Grey is Edward, Anastasia Steele is Bella. Had Ana's friend Jose said "Oh, hey, I'm totes a werewolf," I would have been utterly unsurprised.

Let me give you a general idea of how the book goes. Um, spoiler alert, I guess.


Anastasia: "I'm adorkable and clumsy and boys love me but I don't even see it! And I bite my lip so much, by rights, it should have fallen off my face by now."

Christian: "I'm rich and handsome as all get out and I like to smack submissives around because I had a shitty childhood up until age 4."

Anastasia: "That's okay! I'm a virgin! Smack me!"

He does.

Anastasia: "I like it but I don't. But I love you even though we've only known each other like 23 minutes. Oh, and I like pancakes!"

Christian: "Good, because I like to feed the world and stuff. For some reason, I totally am into you even though you're nothing like what I want. Here, sign this contract saying I'll buy you all the things, have a personal trainer make sure you stay fit, oh, and I can hit you."

Anastasia: "No...well, okay...wait, no. I don't like exercising. Umm...let's have sex again?"

They do. Multiple times. For no damn reason at all.

Anastasia: "I'm the happiest girl in the world! Even though I'm scared and crying a lot."

Kate, the bestie: "Hey yo, maybe this guy is kinda weird?"

Anastasia: "MAYBE YOUR FACE IS WEIRD."

Christian: "I'ma buy you a car. AND YOU CAN'T SAY NO."

Anastasia: "I HATE GIFTS. ALL GIFTS. YOU'RE A BAZILLIONAIRE BUT FUCK YOU FOR BUYING ME ANYTHING."

Christian: "You've displeased me."

Anastasia: "Buh..fluh...jibberty...AGAIN? REALLY? Is this about the gifts thing?"

Christian: "Wanna go to my weird playroom that looks like a Second Life sex dungeon?"

Anastasia: "Just the smell of you makes my brand new $500 panties wet, so okay!"

Christian: "I'm fifty shades of fucked up! Bend over so I can spank the hell out of your ass."

Anastasia: "Okay!"

He does. Six times.

Anastasia: "I DIDN'T LIKE THAT EVEN THOUGH I KNEW WHAT YOU WERE ABOUT TO DO."

Christian: "Well shit, why didn't you use the safe word? The safe word that I TOLD YOU TO USE IF YOU DIDN'T LIKE ANYTHING."

Anastasia: "I forgot. BUT WHATEVER. I GOTS TO BE STEPPIN'. Oh, btw, I love you."

Christian: "...."

Anastasia: "BYE. FOREVER."

Totally not forever.



There is a lot of sex in this book. I mean, a LOT of sex. It's like they were having sex just because they were awake and in the same area. Sometimes they were all over each other when it made no damn sense to be all over each other. Also, if Anastasia bit her lip, said "Holy shit," or commented on Christian's smell just ONE MORE TIME... Well, I was about to go find my own submissive to smack.

Now don't get me wrong. In general, I like more dominant men. I wouldn't say I'm particularly submissive, but I do enjoy a man who is a little more "take charge." It's no big revelation that I can be bossy and that I spend most of my days being strong for other people. I like a man who can let me lay that down for a bit. If a man can do that for me, I will do much to please him. This book made Christian's dominant attitude seem weird and wrong. He'd know where she was without her saying! It was all kind of creepy and stalkery. [What? Stalkery isn't a word? Wow, this book really did make me more dumb.]

Unfortunately, there are two more books in the trilogy. And unfortunately, I will read them, just as I read the whole stupid Twilight series. I'd like to see if the writing gets any better [I'm going to guess NO on that] and I'd like to see if at any point, Anastasia grows any kind of a brain.

This book could have been called "Fifty Shades of Being A Dumb Bitch" and I would have just nodded my head and thought, "Fitting title."

Monday, April 23, 2012

If only there was a meat tree

It's Monday and I'm supposed to be out at the grocery stores, but I couldn't drag myself out the door today. Plus, it's said that you get better deals and fresher items if you go on Wednesdays. I'm all for better deals, that's for sure.

The healthy eating project is not going so well. Mr. D, bless his heart, is just not a vegetable person. I've been trying so hard, but I get so nervous and anxious that he's not going to like what I make, I end up not making anything right. I completely messed up a meal of chicken, quinoa, and eggplant the other day. I'm not saying I'm the BEST cook, but I'm good enough that this should have been an easy meal for me to make. If he's unhappy with how we're eating, I'm unhappy making anything. And it's not fair, really. I want to make good food for us, but just knowing he's unhappy and pouty because he's not eating what he wants to eat makes me unhappy.

The best part of the week was Saturday when he was out visiting his friends and I opted to stay in and make my own meal. This salad was everything I could have asked for.



Had I served that to Mr. D, I'm pretty sure salad would have flown through the air.

I don't want to be angry about food all the time. God knows I have enough of my own food issues. But he's got me all tied up in knots about mealtimes, and that's unfair. The easy thing would be if he'd just eat what I make and not talk about it. The easier thing would be if he'd just go get his own food and leave me to eat what I want. The BEST thing would be if he'd take an active interest in wanting to eat better and help me plan out meals and such.

I'm not quite sure what the problem is, to be honest. For the past 2 years, at least twice a week before dinner, he'll ask me "So! What nutritious and non-fattening meal are you making us tonight?" Now I'm actually DOING it and he's sad that we're not eating everything fried. I just don't get that. I'm not sure what he expected.

Well, no, I lie. I know what he expected. He expected me to say that we're low carbing so that he can eat nothing but meat [which is not the proper way to low carb] and then when his "all meat, all the time" diet didn't work, he could tell himself that at least he tried.

Bah. At least he has his stress test next Monday and they will probably slap him with some tough love there.

I'm going back out of town next month to celebrate my dad's and uncle's birthdays. It's kind of strange because my mom had made this big hairy deal about how last month when we went to visit family, that was going to be THE LAST TIME we ever go down to her hometown. But well, I guess it's not since we're going again. Both my parents thought last time was just too overwhelming [which it was] and we really didn't get to do anything we wanted to do because the family, God love them, was just a little too much. Ever seen ants swarm on a drop of sugar? Yeah, it was kind of like that - with us being the drop of sugar. And hey, I get it. It had been so long since we'd seen them and last year at this time, we had no idea what was going to happen regarding my dad's health and all that. But we were overwhelmed, my dad was crying all the time, we'd just gotten the dog back and semi-normal from her surgery, and we were never sure what the weather was going to do. This time, we're going a couple of days in advance before the big party on Saturday. I'd really like to drop 10 pounds before we go, which is doable, but I'm really going to have to buckle down if I want to get it done.

I'm off to hunt for more healthy, easy, picky eater friendly recipes.

Monday, April 16, 2012

The day I ate a radish

I am not, unfortunately, very familiar with a lot of vegetables. Oh, I know the basics. Lettuce, tomatoes, corn, green beans, etc. But while I was shopping today, I realized that I don't know how a lot of things taste. Beets? Kale? Broccoli rabe? Not a clue. So I made a decision that each week I'll buy a vegetable or fruit that we've never eaten before. Or at least, one I'VE never eaten before, because it's a pretty good bet that if I haven't had it, Mr. D hasn't had it.

This week, we're trying radishes. My daddy loves them, but for some reason, I've never eaten one. I think they're awfully pretty when they're cut. All bright white with the pretty red rind. I've heard they're peppery tasting, and some people eat them with butter [more on butter in a moment], so I figured why not? So into the cart they went, along with a ton of other veggies. I'm serious. Mr. D, when he saw everything I bought, got a look on his face like, "Oh shit. She was serious about this healthy eating thing."

A couple of days ago, a friend of mine linked to this page about how to make butter at home. I was intrigued because I love stuff like that. But they linked to this super fun guy on You Tube and he made me really want to make butter!




I bought some cream today and let it set out for a few hours. Then I poured it in my shaker and went to town. I was very pleasantly surprised that it worked! It's not like I haven't accidentally whipped cream into butter before. Back when we were doing Atkins, it happened a lot because I would whip fresh cream for our strawberries. At the time, I just threw it out. Didn't really figure it for butter.

So after I made my butter, I sliced up a radish and took a bite. It didn't taste like pepper or anything. It was good. Crunchy, fresh. I tried it with a little butter and that was good too.

For dinner, I made us some chicken breasts, broccoli, red peppers, and a big green salad including radishes and small cucumbers. It was delish! At least, to me. What Mr. D thought was a whole other story. He ate the food, but he wasn't a fan. Wandered around after dinner sighing and looking in the fridge. I asked him if he was actually hungry. He said no, he just wanted something else. He wanted ice cream, or Taco Bell, or anything except what he'd just ate.

Ah well. Rome wasn't built in a day.

At least I ate a radish.

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Fix You [And me]

I'm not sure if I mentioned it [probably not], but Mr. D has high blood pressure. This isn't new or anything, it's been going on for ages. His doctor put him on some new meds last month, but as you all know, meds only do so much. He's starting to have a lot of health issues with his weight and all. I am, too, because seriously? No one is supposed to be over 100 pounds overweight. I know some people are all "But you shouldn't diet because THEY say so. LOVE YOUR BODY!" Fuck that, you know? I mean, yeah, love yourself, but love yourself healthy. Don't tell yourself that just because you love yourself, you're okay at any weight. Healthwise, you're just not.

Anyway, so he had another appointment this past week, got more meds and an appointment for a stress test. I laughed and told him I thought I had at least another 10 years before all this started happening. He asked if I wanted to trade him in for a younger model, but I said I've already spent too many years breaking him in and I just don't have the patience to do it all again.

But the thing is, now I feel guilty. Could I have prevented all this? Why didn't I learn to make healthier meals? Why did I get the foods he likes rather than the foods that would be better for his body? Why didn't I insist we go for walks rather than let him go take a nap whenever he wanted?

Bestie says it's not my fault. He's a grown man and he had the choice to ask for different meals, or go get his own food. When I'm not home, he doesn't make a salad or a chicken breast - he runs out for tacos or burgers. He made the choice to cover the treadmill in boxes and clothing. It's not my fault.

Maybe. But I still feel bad.

So tomorrow is shopping day. Today I spent a few hours browsing healthy recipe blogs trying so hard to find some things that I could possibly make for us. I'm not much of a chef, especially when it's something I'm not familiar with cooking. I like heavy, rich meals. What we need is lighter, more nutritious food.

I know I'm going to be met with resistance. He doesn't enjoy many fruits or vegetables. He doesn't like fish, unless it's tuna from a can drowned in mayo, or chicken unless it's fried. He likes a lot of sweets and chips and anything he can just throw in his mouth in an instant. If he has to take a few minutes to make something, he would rather go out and grab fast food. I can't blame him or anything. It's not like I'm any better at this point. I like junk food as much as he does. I get giddy when my parents and I hit the new Mexican bakery we discovered near their home. Oh, they make a bread with a sweetened cream cheese filling that is simply outstanding! And I love spending hours sitting in front of the computer playing or talking or watching all kinds of shows just as much as he enjoys stealing naps whenever possible.

But we have to change. We have to change what we've broken.

I think that's what really bugs me about the "Don't diet because society wants you thin! Love your body at every weight!" people. We are simply too spoiled for that. We have loved ourselves and spoiled ourselves so much that we're sick. I cannot eat what I want all the time because what I want isn't good for me. I would be thrilled to eat McDonalds and fried chicken and cake every day. I really would.

We'll see how it goes this week. I don't want to completely change everything all at once, or become one of those annoying bitches who can't stop talking about how amazing eating healthy is. One of my closest friends, bless her heart, goes through that phase every so often and although none of us say anything, it's truly irritating. Mr. D's friend, that woman I hate, is going through that right now and I can't say it's increased my liking for her any, especially since she also seems to go through that once a year.

What I have to do is figure out how to fix us without making it feel like we're being punished [usually my problem] or take all the joy out of eating. There has to be a balance between "Yay, let's go to Fuzzy's for pork nachos and then sit on the couch watching True Life!" and "Oh my god, that lettuce had a smidge of dressing on it and now I must go run 5 miles!" I will find this balance!


Tuesday, April 10, 2012

The Reluctant Gardener

I've never been the kind to enjoy gardening. I know, I know. People say it's relaxing, that it's awesome to cultivate your own plants. I have never found it to be so. I like to go to the botanical gardens and see the foliage there. I like to receive flowers [as little as it happens]. But I have a black thumb. Gardening to me means "What shit am I going to kill this time?"

However, Mr. D wants me to be kind of person who enjoys gardening. Most of the other women on our street are out there on weekends, little gardening gloves on, pulling weeds and planting junk. Not me. It stresses me out knowing the plants will simply die. But he doesn't realize it. Or forgets it, most likely, because every couple of years, he encourages me to go to buy flowers and potting soil. And I get mad, but I end up doing it.

I bought begonias this time around. He had bought some flower box things a while back for our porch, so I needed a flower that could grow in the shade. The nursery I went to today didn't have many flowers for the shade, most were for full sun, so I ended up with these. Plus I had a coupon, which was good since it's very possible that these things will up and die in the next week and I would hate to spend too much.

To say I enjoyed shopping for these would be...a lie. I really didn't. I was hot, tired, hungry, and itchy. But it was pretty enough there, with all the colorful flowers.



Of course, I couldn't get those flowers. They wanted sun. Picky ass flowers.

I ended up with 8 little pots of begonias and a couple of bags of soil. After lunch and bitching to Mr. D that I don't like gardening, we went outside so I could put the flowers in the box thing. I didn't like getting my hands dirty, but I don't have the little gardening gloves. The end result wasn't too bad.



We'll see how long these last. Of course I'd be thrilled if they didn't up and die, but I guess we'll see.

Fucking flowers.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Viz'tin

I really should write more often. Writing has always been like therapy for me and I just don't do it enough.

So dog update - She's fine! We had some really close calls with her in the days after her surgery, but that was due mostly to the huge amounts of medications she was taking. Two antibiotics, an anti-nausea med, one painkiller/antiinflammatory, and tramadol, also for the pain. Too much, too much, too much. Once she stopped taking the tramadol, she started to perk up again and now she's happy and eating and all that. Thank God for small favors, because my parents were seriously going down with her.

Last weekend, we made the trip to see some of the family in my mom's hometown. It was a good trip. It's always nice to see family again, especially since no one died this time! Usually we only get to see people at funerals. The weird thing was being there without my cousins. Well, okay, I had cousins there, but not the ones I grew up with. It was a few of my older first cousins that I never bothered with before, and then my second cousins, who are of course all between 5 and 16 years old. So I spent most of the time sitting with my parents and aunts and uncles. That would be okay if the conversation wasn't about past events that I didn't know about and people who died. But it was at least interesting to hear about some things, especially from my dad since he's not really one to talk much. He talked about his time in the air force [just 2 years, I think] and the stuff he did while stationed in Virginia and Alaska.

My cousin Rebecca has two children that have now been adopted by her parents, my aunt and uncle. They're 8 and 12, two of the sweetest kids you'd want to meet. Her daughter, Gabrielle, attached herself to me by the end of the trip. Rebecca and I had been thick as thieves as children. She was one of my favorite cousins and for a time, there was nothing I didn't know about her. But she went on the wrong path - bad men, bad drugs, a stint in prison, etc. Her daughter is truly the spitting image of her and it was easy to, for a moment, pretend to be 8 years old again, swimming in the motel pool with her.

But I'm not 8, and this little girl is much smarter than my cousin would ever hope to be. And I got so angry because both Rebecca and my other close cousin have these children that they did not want. They have children they don't want and I don't have any and I DO want them. They don't give a shit about the family and family is all I think about. We grew up together, had pretty much the same background, and we turned out so differently. It's really odd.

The darling little girl attached herself to me, and by the end of Sunday, she wanted her hair like mine [a low side ponytail] and was begging for us to come back as soon as school is over for her. Monday morning when we were about to leave, we called my aunt to say goodbye [she was in bed with some severe allergies!] and she said that Gabrielle had put her hair in the side ponytail for school that morning because that's how I wear my hair. Sweet thing. I have to remember to send her a present or something.

What I really got out of the trip from listening to my elders...

I need to start taking better care of myself. My aunt is 72 and can jog further than I can because she walks for 45 minutes a day. People eat a lot, but they're active taking care of their homes. They take time to enjoy the outdoors daily. They take time for prayer. And most importantly - family is everything. You take care of the family and they'll take care of you.