Category Archives: Childhood

Embarrassing and Unflattering Picture Time… Lindsay…

Sister Lindsay’s birthday is tomorrow… I thought I’d be an exceptionally giving and selfless sister and take this opportunity to share with the world some of her most unflattering and embarrassing pictures (pssstt… Lindzer… where the crimeny puffs is that picture of you talking to yourself in the mirror when you were 25 4?  I done looked everywhere!?!?!?)  😛

Let’s start with this one.  Lindsay is convinced she was adopted because there are no baby pictures of her at the hospital like there are of me… News Flash… it ain’t as cool when it’s #2.  In this picture she seems to be possessed by some demonic spirit… any minute she will rise up and chomp off the head of an unsuspecting photographer… either that or she’s singing her best version of Kumbaya.  As for me… I’m frankly terrified out of my skull.  HELP. ME.

This here picture most exemplifies the real Lindsay (the horns are real).  As you can see, here she is determining the best method to steal the floppy bunny ear’s candy stash. Get in my tummy, candy bar!As for me… frankly, I’m just dagnabbed shocked that I’m allowed to be holding a candy bar!  Also, the wallpaper and the chair fabric… totally back in fashion!

This here was the time they locked me in the mini van and force fed me asparagus through a hole in the door.  Pictured here is them coming in to scrape me off of the ceiling.

The reason I suck at the piano, even after 12 years of lessons… Madre told us this keyboard was standard size!

I’m not pissed she got the gumball machine and I didn’t… I’m pissed they let me walk out of the store with those glasses!  Also, there’s a crink in my neck from the glass weight.

Teenagery hormoney fun family trip time!

Lindsay:  As if I’m going to be seen with these nerds.
Whitney:  Durrrrr… I smell bacon.
Grams:  I hope they have feeeesh! 

Oh dear… this is more unflattering and embarrassing of me than anyone else.  Right here I’m probably wondering how I’m going to walk to my car without fainting.

Happy Birthday, Lindsay!!  I hope your day is filled with all good things… and also you owe me a candy bar… from back in your devil days!  Love you!

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Say It Isn’t So…

So, my life is basically over… my toothbrush ran out of batteries tonight and I had to power it with my hand!  What did I ever do before the invention of the battery-powered toothbrush?  I love that dagnabbed thing.  It feels like your teeth are getting a right good turbo clean… not that usual whimpy can’t go in a circular motion hand-powered toothbrush.  The HUMANITY!  Life as I know it will never be the same… EVER!!!!!  What’s that you say?  Go buy more batteries you yellow-bellied lizard?  That would be a novel idea, but sadly I’m not smart enough to get the bottom of the toothbrush open to change the batteries.  Who invented these childproof toothbrushes anyway?  I’d sue the company if it weren’t so much hassle to fill out the paperwork.  Carry on with your lives as usual.  Mine will just be on hold until I can figure out how to twist off my toothbrush bottom.  😛

In news that is actually  news… I was excited to read this article.  Apparently, school lunches are getting a revamp!  FINALLY!

The first major nutritional overhaul of school meals in more than 15 years means most offerings – including the always popular pizza – will come with less sodium, more whole grains, and a wider selection of fruits and vegetables on the side.

First lady Michelle Obama and Agriculture Secretary Tom Vilsack announced the new guidelines during a visit Wednesday with elementary students. Michelle Obama, also joined by celebrity chef Rachael Ray, said youngsters would learn better if they don’t have growling stomachs at school.

“As parents, we try to prepare decent meals, limit how much junk food our kids eat, and ensure they have a reasonably balanced diet,” Obama said. “And when we’re putting in all that effort the last thing we want is for our hard work to be undone each day in the school cafeteria.”

After the announcement, the three went through the line with students and ate turkey tacos with brown rice, black bean and corn salad, and fruit – all Ray’s recipes – with the children in the Parklawn Elementary lunchroom.

Under the new rules, pizza won’t disappear from lunch lines, but will be made with healthier ingredients. Entire meals will have calorie caps for the first time and most trans fats will be banned. Sodium will gradually decrease over a 10-year period. Milk will have to be low in fat and flavored milks will have to be nonfat.

Although, I hate how they are villanizing pizza.  Pizza can be a part of a healthy lifestyle… it all depends what ingredients are put on it.  Though, as I’ve mentioned before on this blog, I do think it’s ridiculous that they are calling it a vegetable due to the tomato paste.

My recollection of the school lunch back in my day, approximately 8 billion years ago when I walked uphill both ways to school and didn’t own a pair of shoes… is foggy at best.  I seem to remember “mystery” meat on salisbury steak day… and always wondered if the mashed potatoes were real.  I’m pretty sure they were watered down potato flakes slathered with butter.  When I got to high school level, I brought my lunch… except when they had ala cart salad day.  My mom would let me eat the salad because salad fit with my “die”t I was always on.  She didn’t get to see what I put on that sucker… 8 gallons of cheese… ham by the pig loin… enough croutons to supply a small 3rd world country… and enough ranch dressing to cover up the few pieces of green I had splayed across the plate.  Do you want some lettuce with that “salad”?  In other words, my “salad” should have been called a Hammy Cheesy Ranchy casserole or Clogged Artery Delight.  I’d venture to guess I had at least 1000 calories on that sucker… AT LEAST!!!!

It’s time that they changed the school lunch guidelines.  I don’t know how easy it will be to retrain kids to eat the healthy food instead of picking up a bag of chips and a candy bar in the vending machines, but it has to be tried.  For the sake of the Hammy Delight Casserole… it has to be tried!!

Question of the Day:  Do you remember anything about your school lunches?  What do you think of the new guidelines?  Will kids eat it?

 

 

 

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Filed under Childhood, Diet

Grand Theft Bulk Food…

At the grocery store on Saturday I saw the most fascinating thing.  A family… mom, dad, and six children under the age of about 8 behaving like angels in the grocery store.  Their dad had them lined up youngest to oldest… mom was in front of the cart, dad pushed the cart with the 1-year-old in it, and then the 5 remaining children followed behind him in a straight, orderly line.  No one was crying… no one was running around the store like an ADHD patient on Skittles… they were all just patiently following their parents in this perfect line.  No one asked for candy or sugar cereal or ice cream.  It kind of baffled me.  When my sister and I were little tikes we were holy terrors in the grocery store.  We always wanted everything we saw and if we didn’t get it we’d pull out our best Oscar-winning tantrums in the middle of aisle 8.

There were several times where Lindsay stole candy from the bulk food section, told me mom had paid for it, and I ate it standing in the middle of the store.  I didn’t get candy… hardly ever… so if someone was freely offering me candy… I was going to eat it before they could take it away again.  I knew mom hadn’t bought it.  We hadn’t even gone through the checkout yet… but I ignored that part of the thought process because I was getting CANDY!!!!!!!!

Most kids dream about what they want to be when they grow up.  My dreams consisted of what food I was going to eat when I had my own money and a driver’s license.  Having the food hidden from me as a child, yet available to the rest of the non-dieting family made me want it even more.  At the same grocery store on Saturday there were 3 self-serve honey machines in the bulk food department with a BIG ole sign reading:  Do not lift the lid… bees will escape.  PLEASE!!!  I was so tempted to lift that dagblasted lid.  I wanted to see it even more now than I had when I just thought it was a box with honey in it.  When someone tells you not to do something, you want to do it even more than if you had been given permission to do it.  That’s why I’ve adopted my eating method of NOTHING being off limits.  I can’t say, Whitney, you will never eat cookies again.  That just insures that I’ll have a plethora of weird dreams starring cookies… talking cookies… cookies on the Jerry Springer Show… cookies with attitude.  It somehow works much better for me if I allow all foods… that way I can better make the choice in my mind of whether I can take it or leave it at any particular time.  You’ll all be happy to know that Lindsay has left her past of Grand Theft Bulk Food behind… or so I think she has.

We went to WinCo for the first time on Saturday.  I fell in LUST with the bulk food section.  They had every dagnabbed thing you could ever imagine up in there.  I might ask if they rent rooms in the storage warehouse just so I can be within walking distance of the bulk food section!  Oh lawsy glorious!  This is the only place where you can bag your own cat food and then turn around and bag your own flax seed.  Crossing my fingers I don’t get them mixed up come breakfast!

Question of the Day:  Do you ever purchase anything in the bulk foods section? 

 

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Nativity Scenes Are The New Christmas Tree!

I mentioned in a past post about Madre and her love for all things Nativity and scene.  You can’t blame the woman… the Nativity scene represents a very sacred time and is the true reason for the season.  I’m all for it.  That is, until you see how many she has on display in the same general area.  Baby Jesus was born approximately 5 bajillion times just in her living room alone!  Her goal is to collect a Nativity scene from every country that she visits.  This is a fairly new goal, so her collection isn’t representative of all the countries she has been to.  She just heard a rumor that another couple in town has over 150 Nativity scenes displayed around their house.  THAT WILL NOT DO!!  Keeping up with the Kardashians’ errr, the Jones’ is quite the task.  Next year I’m probably going to have to dress up like a shepherd and sit out on the front lawn for the whole month of December.  Take that Jones’ family… I have me a life-sized BREATHING Nativity!  Who wants to volunteer to be the camel?  We’re also looking to fill the role of the sheep and the shepherd’s staff?  Pay is nothing… maybe some stale fruit cake… and frost bite is not included on the health insurance forms… oh, I mean… what health insurance?

This is just a sampling of her scenes…  The funny thing about Madre is that she wants help setting up the decorations, but then I’ll set something up and she comes right behind me and rearranges it!  She will say she doesn’t do that… but y’all know who to believe.  The girl without the camel-print muumuu!!

The Christmas tree… with the crooked star on the top.  What!?  We be tall, but we ain’t that tall!!  Plus, my torso is approximately 4 times the length of my arms.  Short, stubby arms and legs… LONG butt torso!  Call Guinness!

Madre’s pride and joy.  She painted these ceramics years ago when I was just a child… they’ve survived many a frigid winter in the garage and many a move without breaking.  KNOCK ON WOOD!  Stay strong, Mr. and Mrs. Claus!

These are cute.  Sister, Lindsay actually made this advent-type calendar for Madre last year.  They’re little spools, with the numbers 1 through 25 on adorbs paper… and then each day you take the number off of the clothesline and you open it up and read what you’re supposed to do that day… to help you count your way down to Christmas.

Here’s y’alls Christmassey assignment for this weekend.  Make it healthified and enjoy the sounds of the season.  Report back on Mondee!

Question of the Day:  What is your favorite Christmas Decoration?  Is it something you made or something with sentimental value? 

 

 

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Filed under Childhood, Christmas

Winners and Awards… Yeah, That’s Right…

So, today is the day that I make someone into a millionaire!!!!!!  LOL… that was funny, right?  But, and this is the honest truth, today is the day that I give someone a crappy T-shirt… and what’s the next best thing to a million dollars?  You guessed right… being the proud owner of above-mentioned T-shirt that tells everyone to shut up and sweat!   Thank you all who entered.  What I did was numbered all of the entrants (even the ones who entered on the Facebook page).  Then I went to this handy dandy website, plugged in those numbers and had them randomly give me a number… TA DA!   The winner?   My goodest pal, ALENA!!  Woot woot!  Here’s her exercising suggestions:

I am a fan of the elliptical.  Also, I like to crank up some music, sing, clean, and dance (I am sure you could come up with a good word for that).  The music makes you happy and gets you moving and at the end you have a clean house to show for it!   Besides the toilet brush makes a great microphone–JK!

Oh, I forgot about the Wii, I especially like sword fighting on the Wii sport’s resort–you can get out all sorts of aggression and totally sweat while having fun 🙂

I’m thinking of a word as we speak… as for the toilet brush microphone… Um… are you related to that dude who had a head duct taped to the hood of his car?  Just curious!  😛   I’ll holler at you, Alena.  I needed to get your new address anyway… how am I supposed to stalk you if I don’t know it!?  Think, people… THINK!

********************

On to the next order of buisness… my sweet cuzzin, Jen-Jen gave me a shoutout on her blog for some sort of blogging award.  The rule was I was supposed to pick 15 bloggers who I enjoy reading and then give 7 random facts about myself… and then those 15 bloggers were in turn supposed to do the same on their blogs.  I am taking the whimpy way out to say if any of you who read this have a blog and want to post 7 random facts about yourselves, DO IT, and then post the link in the comments so I can dagnabbed read them.  Yeah, that sounds about right!  Here are my 7 random facts, old school style:

1.  When I was a kid, I simultaneously had crushes on Mr. Rogers (sweater vests are HOT), Rio from the cartoon Jem and the Holograms (purple hair and cartoon characters are hot… just ask Fraggle Rock), Gilbert Blythe from Anne of Green Gables (LEGITIMATE), and Tim Allen from Home Improvement (do not even ask).  Yes, I do realize that every last one of these crushes is odder than an 8-toed gildabeast… I was a KID.  I think I also once had a crush on a chocolate donut with sprinkles back in them days.

2.  I won the Farm Bureau Talent Find at the County Fair once when I was 16 and once when I was 17, singing Pocahontas and Patsy Cline.  I was totes excited because the winner got $100 and the chance to sing at the State Fair.  Imagine my disappointment when I found out that I had to use my prize money to join Farm Bureau in order to sing at the State level.  I’m still scrubbing the word SUCKER off my forehead… but heck if I weren’t a member of the Farm Bureau for 2 years!  My head of imaginary cattle was well taken care of.

3.  I am a certified psychotic germ-a-phobe to the most annoying level.  I scrub my hands like it’s my job (cracking skin anyone), and badger the family when they don’t wash theirs and/or do not wash a dish correctly.  Something I need to work on?  HECK NO!  Okay, yes… sue me… I’m a work in progress.  Funny story… I was in Bath and Body Works a few months back buying some more hand soap (I tell you… it’s an illness), and one of the shop ladies was walking around with samples of lotion.  She’d squirt it on your hand and then rub it in for you since I’m totally incapable of doing that.  I didn’t want her touching my hand, but she was like a baracuda in her insistance… one touch of my dry scaley hand and she’s all like… Oh… wow… I could give you lessons on how to keep those moist.  I ended up with a coupon… I think she was hoping I’d use it to buy moisturizer… I just bought more hand soap.  😛

4.  I hate soda pop and carbonation.  HATE it and always have.  This isn’t a new thing since I’ve started my calorizing efforts.  That tickly feeling in your throat and nose?  No, thank you!  Give me an ice water any day!

5.  I don’t like winters.  I’m trying to be more optimistic about them, but the cold added with the thick, nasty, smoggy inversion air that we get here in Cache Valley depresses me to all get out and back.  I need some warmth and sunshine… oh, and clean air to breathe.  Although, I do enjoy feeling like I’m sniffing a diesel exhaust pipe 24/7!    Maybe I need a winter home in Hawaii.  I’ll let you know how that goes.

6.   I LOVE, love, love chocolate… chocolate with caramel, chocolate with nuts, chocolate-covered broccoli!  Yet, if I had to pick my favorite sweet treat it would have to be confetti cake with frosting.

7.  I am the only person in America who hasn’t seen but one Star Wars movie, only one Harry Potter movie, and only one Twilight/Eclipse/vampire movie.  Not a huge fan of science fiction/fantasy stuffs.  The weird talking creatures, etc.?  Beam me up, Scotty!   On the other hand, cannot get enough of the true story movies (except for Soul Surfer, which made me want to gouge my eyeballs out from the Velveeta factor!  Correction:  the story was dagnabbed amazing… but the script writing had gouda written all over it!)

Hope you all have a fabulous weekend… get in some movement, some relaxation, and eat a treat for me!  Thanks again for reading!

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This One’s For Me…

The title is accurate.  This blog post is for me and me alone.  I’d skip reading this if you don’t like being depressed, cats, bearded women at the circus, crying, and/or you have the steel-plated heart of Scrooge.  Okay then… that qualifies me to stop reading.  I need to do this so I can get past my mourning sadness weekend and move on… quit eating my sadness away like I am auditioning for the circus as the fat bearded woman.  One weekend is enough for that kind of audition… understand now?  Call this my own form of free therapy, if you will.

Friday afternoon my beloved little kitty of 22 years, since I was a wee gal of 11 years old, died.  It hit me hard… mostly because I was dreading it, she’s been a part of my life for 2/3 of it, and also because I watched her die.  I discovered her little body lying in the dirt at the base of the deck stairs, like she couldn’t muster the strength to get up them, so just lay down.  She was still breathing at that time, shallow breaths… but her eyes were far away and vacant.  I picked her up, knowing I could not let her die with her nose shoved into a pile of mud, and I brought her in the house and set her on her favorite little blanket and then I pet her and I told her what a good little kitty she had been and that I loved her… because I did.  I also bawled… racking sobs, trying to let go of 22 years of companionship in the space of a few hours.  I now know that I don’t handle tragical events well… especially involving someone/something I am close to… unless you consider pacing like a lunatic as handling something well.

I called my mom to come and help me and she came home and took over… and surprisingly, despite the fact that she is NOT an animal person, comforted the poor thing, talked to it, called the vet, and even shed a few tears over her as well.  Just half an hour later, she was gone… it was like she was waiting for us before she finally let go.

I wish I hadn’t watched her die.  I have this image in my head of her twitching, lifeless body, gasping for breath, and slowly fading away as she lay in the middle of the living room floor on a pile of puppy pads and a blanket… and I know that is not how I want to remember her.  I want to remember her as the sweet little, loyal cat that she was for 22 years.  Following me around everywhere… even on walks… meowing every so often so I knew she was there…  Sitting on my feet while I watched TV or worked.

I want to remember her as the psycholy obedient thing she was.  When you’d tell her she was not to come into a room, she would sit her little butt outside the door and wait patiently.  And we never had a litter box in the house… EVER.  When she needed to go, she would let us know and then we’d let her out.  She never had an accident, until the last few days of her life… and even then she was courteous enough to go into the bathroom on the bathroom floor.

I want to remember her as the loving little thing that she was.  She’d wait outside the door of the bathroom when I’d go in there and no matter how long I was in there, she’d be there waiting patiently when I came out again.  She loved people and everyone was her friend… except for little kids in her older years.  She could pass on those.  Sunday dinner when Makayla and Corbin would come over, she’d know before they had even come and would hide herself away until they left.

She was smart… she knew how to let herself in through the screen door.  Using her paw to pull it open and then slithering her skinny body into the house…. and I swear she knew English.  We had many conversations, me and this little cat of mine.  I’d ask a question and she’d meow her answer… and even though I didn’t speak a lick of kitty cat, we understood each other.

She loved to snuggle, have her ears scratched, and she purred up until the end.  I’m thankful for the 22 years I had with my little runty kitty cat.  She gave me much more than I ever gave her and I hope that she thought that her life under my constant germ-a-phobe nagging was worth it.  I wondered yesterday as I dug her a little grave out by the garden… I have the blisters to prove it.  Were the last 22 years worth it despite all the heartache now?  My answer… HELL YES!  Love you, Kitty… may you rest in peace, frolicking up in the heavens with all the other beloved pets.

I took this video earlier this year… it’s boring… probably only Lindsay will want to watch it, but whenever I watch it, it helps me to get that awful dying image out of my head…  I hope that image fades as the days go by.  Rest in peace my sweet little pumpkin…

NOTE:  I may be scarce with the blog posting in the next few days… we’ll see how much inspiration I get.

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Poor As A Field Mouse… Happy As A Clam…

I’ve had a paying job since the age of 8…  Not that I was good at every job I had.  At 8, I had a full-time babysitting job during the summer… 9 hours a day for 3 kids ages 1, 5, and 7… I was 8… and I was pretty much the most horrendous babysitter on the face of the planet.  I’d get caught up playing games with the 5 and 7 year olds and forget all about the baby.  I can’t even count how many times someone rang the doorbell with the lil’ dude in tow, saying he’d been playing out in the middle of the busy street by himself.  I was always very mature for my age  and I looked older too, thus the abundance of babysitting jobs… and when you’re 8/9 paying you 50 cents an hour is like a gold rush.  I hated looking mature.  I was at the library one time checking out books at the age of 12, and the lady asked me what I was majoring in in college… um… I’m about to go to recess and then daycare afterwards.

I had a paper route for years.  I picked apples in an apple orchard (scratch that, I got to pick the ones up off the ground since I was 12 and 12-year-olds get the bad end of the job deal).  I worked at Western Watts getting yelled at by people with wedgies who were not in the mood to do a survey.  I worked 2 jobs my first few years of college… K-Mart in the day and the movie theaters at night and weekends.  I worked for YEARS at Convergys getting yelled at by unsatisfied cellphone customers.

So, I’ve been making money since the age of 8… and I still have nothing to show for it.  No house of my own… no fancy dancy car less than 14 years old, no beautiful new furniture, no college degree (but 8 billion credits that add up to not enough) nothing, except a deeply instilled hard work bone.  It’s expensive to be fat.  Between the medications, diet schemes, food enough for a football team, doctor visits, procedures, etc., etc., etc., there’s not much left over at the end of the day.  In the past, I’ve gauged my happiness on the fact that I was poor.  I’m 32 years old and I pay minimal rent in my parent’s basement fer crying outloud!  How humiliating is that!?  .

My attitude is changing, slowly but surely.  Money don’t buy happiness… happiness comes from within.  If I determine that I’m going to be a happy person, by golly, I will be a happy person… despite the fact that I drive around a 1997 Buick and can’t afford a house, I’ve got so much that money can’t buy.  Take a minute, shut your yapper, look around you, and see all the treasures you do have, Whitney.  There’s not enough money in the world to replace those things.

Question of the Day:  What was your first job?  How old were you?

Price Tag by Jessie J featuring B.o.B.

It’s not about the money, money, money
We don’t need your money, money, money
We just wanna make the world dance,
Forget about the price tag
Ain’t about the (uh) Cha-Ching Cha-Ching
Ain’t about the (yeah) Ba-Bling Ba-Bling
Wanna make the world dance,
Forget about the price tag.

***

Why is everybody so obsessed?
Money can’t buy us happiness
Can we all slow down and enjoy right now
Guarantee we’ll be feeling alright

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Filed under Childhood, Whitney's Playlist

We Couldn’t Even Reach the Ruler!

I went to lunch today with 2 of my best pals from many moons ago… back when we all were popping zits (EWWWWW) and hormoning around… oh, was that just yesterday?  I’ve known Alena and Joanne since I was about 10 or 11.  I was pretty much a horrid friend… but they put up with me being moody and full of the teenage stubborn bone… even though I’m sure most of the time they’d have rather slugged me in the head with a ball bat.  Despite all that, we did manage to have some fun times back in them days.  Some of my most memorable:

–  Having a sleepover at another friend’s house that Alena could not attend, so we all ganged up and toilet papered her house that night.  A gaggle of giggling teenage girls, throwing toilet paper into the trees.  We got our payback when we got back to the house, fell asleep on the trampoline, and woke to everyone vomiting all over everyone else.  Served us right, right Joanne?  I felt so guilty, the next morning I went to Alena’s house to help her clean up the toilet paper mess!

–  The drink game.  The object of the drink game was to make the most disgusting drink possible using anything in the cupboards and refrigerator and then the other person would have to drink it.  Thankfully, my gag reflex made that game over in 25 seconds.

–  Dressing up our little sister’s Barbie dolls to make them more “modest.”  We’d basically just put every piece of Barbie clothing they owned on the doll, which would in turn piss Lindsay and Emma off.  Stupid evil mean sisters anyway!

–  The lame physical education tests we had to do… that one where you sit on the floor with your legs straight out, feet against a box, and you had to see how far you could move the ruler!?  Um… what!?  What happens when you can’t even reach the ruler!?  Joanne never had that problem, being a sports playing savant!  Alena and I would have rather played the drinking game.

It was fun to catch up with my pals.  Alena is moving to some state in the midwest I’ve never heard of (:P) and Joanne is expecting her 4th child any day now (I’m sending you birthing vibes, Joanne… start the incising process now!), so our get togethers will now be far and few between.  Y’all gals best sign up for Facebook and for goodness sakes… send me pictures of the chillin’s every once in a blue moon.  Alena, when you up and move to Behrut, make sure you send me a text message!!  I promised I wouldn’t post the farewell pictures we took on my blog and I’m a woman of my word… so just picture 2 beautiful, kind, hard-working women, and you’ll pretty much have them nailed!  Thanks for the memories, ladies!

Question of the Day:  Do you keep in contact with any of your friends from the olden days? 

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Certified Fibber Extraordinaire!

Side Note… um… there was just a drunk dude singing show tunes outside of my window.  Considering I do not live in a busy city, it is 2:00 in the morning, and there is a total of 1 bar in a 30-mile radius, this concerns me.  Maybe I should offer him some pants and a mouth gag.  At least he was more entertaining than all the live rodents and birds I’ve had stuck in my window well previously.  Should have asked if he took requests… I’m really aching to hear his rendition of “I Will Survive”!

I learned really early on in life how to fib… okay fine, fib is an understatement… I lied like a frigging dog!  It saved me from spankings and groundings and other punishments many a time.  I especially used my new found skill when it came to food and eating and sneaking into said food.  I cannot even count how many times when I had snuck into the cookie jar for a handful or 12 handfuls of Oreos… and my mom would ask if I’d been in the cookies, I’d tell her I hadn’t whilst I had black Oreo crumbs pasted to every crevice of my mouth and teeth.  Stupid Oreos anyway!!  I was much more credible with the Twinkies!  DISCLAIMER:  I do not condone lying unless it gets you an extra piece of candy or a lottery win.

I became very good at my lies.  At the age of 16 when I finally got my driver’s license, I’d make up elaborate excuses for why I’d have to leave the house… some friend emergency or work emergency or I had to make an emergent run down to the K-Mart for zit cream… just to be able to get to use the car for a food run.  The problem with lying when it comes to food is I became a closet eater.  In front of people, I ate in sensible portions and even turned down dessert… but behind the scenes when all alone, it became an all-you-can-eat smorgasboard of sugar and lard and anything edible really… because that was the only time I wouldn’t get the stink eye for my food choices.  Some people are scurred of ghosts or boogey men or serial killers… I was scurred of the stink eye!  You know the stink eye… that disapproving look you get when you take too many scoops of ice cream or choose the fried chicken instead of the baked at the restaurant?  THAT look.

In fact, I got so good at my lying, that when I was 5 years old, I conjured up a whole scenario in my noggin and got my sister and little playmates to be the actors in the play with me.  I told my parents that we had been approached by a big truck and a scary-looking guy in this big truck offered us some candy if we’d come and sit in his cab with him.  That’s when we all started screaming and ran into the house.  I have to say that fibbing aside, I gave one helluva Oscar-worthy performance complete with tears and shrieking voice… so much so, that my folks called the Police and had them send an officer out to the house.  The officer came and I lied to him too.  I showed him the tire tracks where this scary-looking, candy-offering dude supposedly pulled onto the lawn.  I made up what the dude looked like (scraggly hair, a beard and a mustache).  Friendly officer wrote all of this down in his little notebook and I was pretty darn proud of myself because I was already good at lying at the age of 5.  DISCLAIMER:  Again, I was 5, so I’m obviously not responsible for my own actions or my transgressions, Adam and Eve.  It was also during the Safety Kids phase, so I blame my parents for buying me those tapes and books.

No, I hadn't been drinking red juice... that red ring around my mouth was from a freak lipstick attack!

Anyhow, point being… lying is bad… especially to police officers.  Why am I blabbering on about this?  I’ve had several people ask me why I don’t have my food diary public on MyFitnessPal…  It’s because I’m still scurred of that dagnabbed stink eye… people judging me for not eating ONLY vegetables.  If I make my diary public, I know I’ll just start lying again.  Lying about what I eat is not something I’m going to go back to… so until I get to that point where I’m comfortable with having people judge my food, my diary will be private.  Just know that I eat like a normal person… I eat all of my allotted calories… and I truly do believe all things in moderation.  If you don’t believe me… call 9-1-1 because they did!

Question of the Day:  Did you fib much as a kid?  How about now as an adult? 

 

 

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Filed under Childhood, Food

And They Called Her Beety…

I was diagnosed with sugar diabetes at the age of 16… not type 1 or type 2, but type 1.5.  My pediatrician at the time invented type 1.5 on account of the fact that I was a juvenile with diabetes and he couldn’t cross the threshold in his brain to just call it what it was… I was an overweight child with an adult disease.  He immediately put me on 2 different types of insulin and that was that… I was going to be a human pin cushion for the remainder of my life. 

When I first learned I had diabetes, I was inconsolable.  I still remember it vividly… it was a dreary, rainy afternoon.  My mom and dad sat me down and told me the news and I immediately lost it.  They tried to comfort me… tell me everything would be okay, but all I wanted to do was to be alone.  I eventually found myself locked in the backseat of the family car screaming and punching at the seats.  I would have to do insulin shots for the rest of my life and I would go blind and get my feet cut off and die of kidney disease at the age of 35… but I was most upset over the fact that sugar would now have to be limited/cut out.  No more visions of sugar plums dancing through this ole head.

They admitted me to the hospital because my sugar was some gross number in the 600s (normal is between 80 and 120) and as soon as I was admitted to the hospital, the power went out and was out for most of the 2 days… just like any light in my soul.  I was in the hospital, learning about my new disease, getting lessons on how to give myself my insulin shots, and dealing with my new menu of sugar-free.  They do NOT make sugar-free Lucky Charms… I already done checked!  Lindsay and her friend (what up, Amber) came to visit me in the hospital and immediately nicknamed me “Beety”… short for Diabetes because I guess I needed a laugh and my nickname of #&$&#tney was getting old (no, that is not a typo… that would be the 4-letter word that rhymes with Whit… courtesy of the madre when she went for the wooden spoon drawer!)  😛   

As the years went by and I gained more and more weight (helped along by my new insulin regimen), I soon found myself on a mess of different insulins AND oral pills (8 different medications in all for one measley disease)… just to try to keep some control on my sugar levels.  I was sort of failing in my quest to never eat sugar again… I ate it… probably more than I had before I was diagnosed.  Another example of my stubborn ole horns shoving their way through the common sense bone.  You tell me I can’t have it,  I’ll show you I can!  Then I had gastric bypass surgery and as I lost weight (certainly not from exercising common sense), I was able to eventually get off all of my diabetes medications and insulin.  I was free!!  Of course you should know what happened next… as I started gaining the weight back, the type 2 diabetes began rearing it’s ugly head and I soon found myself right back on 5 different oral pills… 

Now that I’ve been losing weight the sensible way through calorizing and exercise, I’ve been able to drop all of my oral diabetes pills once again… this time for good.  I went to the doctor on Tuesday to get my hemoglobin A1c checked for the first time on no medications (the number indicating the average blood sugar over a 3-month period of time) and the results came back at 5.5%.  Normal range in a person without diabetes is between 4 and 5.9%.  My range when I was first diagnosed was 11%… and during the years I was on 800 different diabetes medications, it ranged from between 7 and 11.  They say you can’t “cure” diabetes, but I’ve never had a normal A1c level without medications, so by golly, I’m calling it a cure.  No one has EVER told me I was normal… take that, family! 

It’s too late for my kidneys as the years of unstable sugars gave me nephropathy, but I can at least stall that deteriorating process now that I’m on the right track.  For all my friends with type 2 diabetes, there’s hope… you can throw out those pills and insulin syringes and glucose monitors… just takes a little hard work and persistence!  I’m relinquishing my Beety nickname… y’all can take it back… guess it’s back to good ole #&$&#tney from here on out. 

Geezer cat wearing her favorite candy wrapper hat...

Question of the Day:  Do you have a nickname?

Note:  Just wanted to thank y’all for the comments and for participating in the mission… should totally be fun, right?  RIGHT!?  Have a great weekend, be safe, take care, and for heaven’s sake, send me the crimeny some sunshine over here!   See you all Mondee!

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Filed under Childhood