Tuesday, 15 April 2014

Chicken Boobs...


I had to work late tonight and EVILBOY had to go to cubs to volunteer for the food bank tonight.  Because of my smooshy schedule, it had to be a fast food night.  I've been trying to avoid fast food since I was told to lose some weight, but sometimes life gets busy and shoving a greased up burger down your throat hole becomes absolutely necessary.  

When I told EB that we would be eating out, he seemed a little reluctant.  I think I was more excited than him since my lunch today consisted of a salad with chicken that smelled like a fart. 

I asked him what he was going to order when we got there and he said "anything but chicken nuggets!" 

I knew right away that he saw the "pink goop" video, so I told him that video is fake and it has been proven online and that you should always trust everything you read online and... NUGGETS ARE THE BEST!! (The boot ones...amiright??)

As it turns out, the pink goop video would have been more appetizing to him because he was actually referring to this video http://youtu.be/Ua5PaSqKD6k (which is actually an advertisement running on YouTube - and was apparently filmed in my hometown)

"Do you know what parts of the chickens they put in there??"  He asked in his high-pitched pre-pubescent incredulous voice.

"They don't put in beaks and stuff if that's what you mean" I explained. 

"No...they put in parts I don't want to eat.  The girl parts..." He started.

"BREASTS??" I asked, while biting my lip to hide the laughter. 

"Yes those." He was legitimately grossed out. 

"Those aren't their boobs if that's what you think. It's their meat...well I guess in a way it's kind of their boobs, but like they don't look like boobs..." I tried to explain- but failed. 

"...I'm never eating chicken nuggets again".  

...and that's how my son became a nuggetarian


Thursday, 10 April 2014

I Know...

Sometimes I get really jealous. 
I'm sure I'm not alone - we all have a little green-eyed monster in us. 
It's just feels like lately it's been harder for me to hide that monster away.

Nothing is going right.
I'm falling apart - quite literally. 
and I absolutely know there are people who have it way worse than I do.
I know.

It's just that once in a while, would it hurt for fate to throw me a proverbial bone.
and I know - I KNOW - you have to take chances and face your fear for good things to happen.
but I am an adult who is solely in charge of a child's formative years.  It's really not that easy to drop everything and become a princess at Disneyland. 

This morning a lady on the radio won a shitload of money. 
I know the chances of winning a shit load of money on the radio are slim to none.
She went on and on about how she was going to pay off her husband's brand new car and hopefully they could go on a trip.

...and then I wanted to reach through the radio and punch her in the face.

I don't have a brand new car, or a husband, OR A SHITLOAD OF MONEY FROM THE RADIO.

Do you want to know what I do have right now? A half a root canal!  Yep...half of a root canal. Completed by a student who wasn't even alive when the Power Rangers came on TV.  Know why I chose a student to do my root canal? Because I couldn't afford a real dentist.

The best part is, I only needed a root canal because I have shitty genes and a mutant tooth - that didn't even bother me - until my dentist tried to fix a small cavity on it. 

If I would have won that shitload of money, I could have went to a real dentist and not have my mouth tortured for another 3.5 hours.

Strangely enough, I also have a mouth that won't freeze properly.  So instead of the traditional freezing at the dentist, I get a needle shoved into the holes of my half completed root canal to ironically take away the pain for about five minutes. 

I could go on - but I don't like where this is headed. 

But I'm going to take one for the team here. If you are having a shitty day, just think of me strapped to a chair, getting needles poked in the week old holes in my mutant tooth. 

You're welcome.

Ouch. My face.


Wednesday, 2 April 2014

I'm not lazy anymore...

Someone finally said it to me.  The F word. Fat.

I've been having some health problems recently and I was referred to a specialist at the hospital. 

This might sound dramatic, but on the day of the appointment, I knew something was going to change in my life. 

The freaking out commenced the night before the big appointment.  Many questions ran through my mind which then led to frantic shaving of all body parts. 

The morning of the appointment I was weighed, which really wasn't a surprise because I had been monitoring this at home.  I was taken to my own private room where I was instructed to remove my clothing and put on a hospital gown.  Thinking back now, this probably should have translated into "we are going to see your tits".  For some reason I was still confident that nakedness would not be happening in this room. 

When the technician came in to perform the ECG she started by asking if I had ever had an ECG before.  I quickly answered yes, even though I wasn't completely sure - next thing you know, she ripped off my gown and stuck things all over my body.  Which then confirmed that either a) I hadn't had an ECG before or b) this woman was really in to wardrobe malfunctions. 

Note: The technician was not Justin Timberlake. 


When she left, I did that frantic getting dressed thing.  You know where you try to put your clothes on as fast as you can before the doctor can do the dreaded "knock and walk".  You know, where they knock on the door once and walk in before you can say "my jub jubs are out!!"

Sure enough, just as I'm trying to put my bra on under my tank top, Doogie Howser and his sidekick Vinny knock and walk my room. Frozen with my arms awkwardly struggling behind my back, I'm sure with a horrified look on my face, Doogie told me I could put on my shirt.  Strangely the first thing I thought was that he didn't want to see my jubs.

After going over his annoying, much rehearsed and well read, spiel that I'm sure he gives to all the shy fatties, he did the worst thing a doctor could do - he told me I was fat - only like he totally beat around the bush and wouldn't say it.  He said things like "if you eat more healthy foods and get more exercise it will help with your blood pressure -- annnnnnd other aspects of your life". 

Like seriously, just say it.  Tell me how much weight I need to lose.  Tell me I should go for runs and carry avocados around in my purse for those times I want to shove an Oh Henry down my throat hole, just don't pretend it will offend me if you tell me I'm overweight. 

I weigh 2 pounds less than I did when I had my son ten years ago.  I'm pretty sure I know what that means. I was offended and I spent the rest of the time daydreaming about the hospital pudding I was going to eat when I left that room and not listening to him tell me not to eat Hot Pockets.

When the real doctor came in he said it how it is.  I need to lose 20 pounds.  Honestly, I was surprised. I was expecting the number to be a lot higher.  I had a goal - and I didn't have to listen to a 30 minute spiel about the nutritional value of Hot Pockets to get it.  After a ten minute pep talk and ideas, I left there with a goal that is attainable.

So that means I've been taking the stairs up to my apartment every single day.  Trust me, that's a shitload of stairs in a day.  We've been walking places and getting out to do activities around our city.  I'm eating better food.  Which means a lot of planning and a small fortune spent on Tupperware to make planning easier, but it's all going to be worth it. It has to be worth it because I really have no other options left.

We met really giant people

I wanted to eat here but - you know.

I decided I wasn't going to get a gym membership. I've had gym memberships many times before and not only are they expensive, but I get this mentality that it's a chore. I find myself always having to make time to go to the gym. It gets old fairly quickly for me, so I'm kind of just doing my own thing.

I've been getting a lot of tips from my superhero idol Jason David Frank who has some awesome tips for staying healthy without gym equipment, eating better and how to kick people's asses - really!

and I can't believe I'm saying this, but so far it seems to be working!  I'm already down eight pounds in just a week. I'm not saying it will last (I hope it will) because the willpower is weak in this one (just ask the cannoli I ate with my lunch today).  I just want to go back to my next appointment with Doogie and do that point in your face HA! thing that cool people do.



Wednesday, 19 March 2014

Mini Rapunzel Cosplay...

There was a point where making cosplay costumes was fun for me.
 
I got a lot of satisfaction imagining, creating, and shopping for the perfect materials.
Then it got to a part where it stopped being so much fun. 
 
That part was probably around the time when I started to make cosplay princess costumes for my nieces.  I am a Disney Princess at heart.  No really – when everybody else in my high school wanted to be doctors and accountants, I decided I wanted to be one of those princesses who walk around Disneyland in costume.  Then somewhere down the line I realized that 1. I don’t look like a princess and 2. Walking around all day in a big poufy dress in the Florida sun hugging germy children probably isn’t the right career for my personality. I’m not saying that being a medical office assistant was the right career path for me, but crap happens and here I am – typing at my desk, not being a princess and sometimes I’m okay with that.
 
The first few weeks of designing the dresses was fun.  I found the perfect materials SO easily. It was almost too easy – and it probably should have been a clue that things were going to go terribly wrong.  My nieces live about 3.5 hours away so measuring them in person was going to be a problem.  My sister told me the sizes they wore so I went out and bought some clothing to represent those sizes.  Which, in hindsight, is probably where I made my first mistake!
 
I worked for hours and hours to make Rapunzel and Sofia the First dresses. I worked right up until the week before Christmas, and to make things even more stressful, I even threw together a creeper quilt  for EVILBOY in that time frame.  All this while packing to go away for a week over Christmas holiday.  I will remember that week not-so-fondly for the rest of my life.
 
When they were done though they were the most beautiful little dresses.  I was so proud of how well they came out and so excited to see my nieces twirling around in these works of art.  They didn’t cost me a fortune (unless you count time as a fortune) and they were a cookie cutter big name brand of princess dress.  Everything was perfect.
 
Until they tried them on. 
 
A skirt that was too tight here, a shirt that was too short there. It was a disaster.  All the relief I felt when I cut that last piece of thread was gone.  Back to the drawing board.  To be honest, it was heartbreaking and I lost a lot of motivation, immediately placing all projects on hold. I had failed and it was hard to accept.
 
I had the dresses for a couple months in a box on my bedroom floor.  I left them out in the open so they would haunt me.  I was hoping that would be the motivation I needed to get back into it, but my heart just wasn’t in it anymore.   
 
Those little girls deserved princess dresses though.  So when I knew there would be a chance I could get the dresses to them again, I started stitch ripping and planning all over again.  I had a plan to make the dresses fit properly – albeit it was a little unconventional when it comes to sewing – I mean, I’m not an expert, but I’m sure some of the shortcuts I took would have Nancy Zieman herself turning over in her grave (actually I think she’s still alive, so it probably would have just given her bad indigestion or something).  
 
I was lucky the girls were able to come and visit this past weekend. A few tense hours later and they both went home with custom princess dresses that fit a little bit better.  Would I do it again?  Probably not, but their excitement made the long hours worth it!
 

  

Unfortunately my littlest niece was a little camera shy so I didn't get any pictures of the Sofia dress. 

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