Fat Chick vs. Food - Week One

Technically it should be week thirty-something. Actually, technically it should be week hundred and something since this has been an issue for so long now, but fuck it. Just like Jon and Kate I’m starting over.

Summer kicked my ass. I have been indulging in bad food a LOT and my exercising efforts have been weak at best. And I’ve kind of turned into a bit of a wino. I just love me a malbec. I’ve only recently discovered this particular wine, and it is YUMMY.

I went to the gym last week and weighed myself on their super-doper scale, and according to that I’ve gained 7 pounds since May (the last month I actually lost anything). I suck.

That’s okay, I’m not going to beat myself up over it. At least I’m climbing back on the Fat Chick bandwagon before I backslide the whole way. I will do better.

I’ve signed up for a twice weekly boot camp thing Trainer Lady is starting up just for fat people. It’s a small class of six, and each class comes with an hour of exercise and a stern talking to thinly veiled as ‘nutrition counseling and support’. I’m hoping that a group of actual fat people to relate to will help me. I don’t really know any other fat people in real life. I’m pretty much it. I’m surrounded by nothing but ‘the last five pounds’ people.

A good friend of mine once told me that if I ran in place for ten minutes before bed each night the weight would just fall off and I’d never be fat again. See what I’m dealing with here?

I need the REAL fat people as a support group to help me. The people who can’t wear a dress in the summertime unless they baby-powder up their inner-thighs. The people who have drawers full of gigantic lycra underwear. The people who dress in layers even when it’s 30 degrees outside. The burger king people. Trainer Lady PROMISED me nothing but five other fat people who want to cross over to the other side. I would love nothing more than a cocoon of people who plan to emerge from this class as ‘last five pounds’ people. This class starts on Sept 15th. I’ll keep you posted.

In the meantime I’m going to fight Fat Chick as hard as I can. She’s really loud and obnoxious and filling my head with thoughts like, “Well, you don’t start that stupid exercise group for another two weeks, so why not live it up now? You’ll have to get back into it mid-September anyway, so just shut up and eat that piece of cake. Can I pour you a glass of vino?”

She is such a fucking bitch.

Rock On, Mr. FoN

Hi! Where have I been? I’ve been waiting for summer. I’ve been all dressed up, sitting on my doorstep, clutching my purse and waiting for that stupid fucker to show up and make me hot. He never showed. Some time ago I finally gave up and reached the conclusion that I’ve been stood up. After that sad realization I retreated to my bedroom. Hugging my teddy bear while surrounded by balls of snotty kleenex I’ve been writing I LOVE SUMMER and MRS. FoN SUMMER all over my stuff. What an asshole.

In a few short weeks, I’m going to start bitching about how cold I am again. Fair warning, internet.

Sigh.

What else is new?

The Hubby started his teaching job yesterday. He is a teacher. Mr. FoN. That makes me Mrs. FoN, which is even funnier. He’s been in school for the last six years completing his Bachelor of Education degree. I know it’s a four year degree, but he went part-time for the first four years so that’s why it took him six years to finish. He’s not, you know…just dumb. Anyway, it was his first day as a teacher yesterday, and he is now in charge of a room full of 7 and 8 year-olds all day.

I really have to give a shout out to all the teachers in the world, because short of having to scrape road kill off the highway all day or letting fat, sweaty businessmen stuff money down my pants, teaching would be pretty much last on my list of career choices.

Don’t get me wrong, I like kids. Well, I like most kids. Okay, I really only like my own kids and my friend’s kids. I like the odd stranger kid, but some of them really kind of suck. If I was a teacher and had a shitty kid in my class I would not be able to hide the fact that I thought he was shitty. Getting picked on by the teacher is probably not that cool. I’d feel bad being openly bitchy to some kid, even if they were shitty. Plus, I have a lot of residual scarring from my elementary school days when I was tortured mercilessly by Rob Morrese. I can’t actually remember how to spell his name right now, but just so you know it’s pronounced More-eese. I’m going to write a whole post someday about Rob Morrese, and in preparation I’m going to find my elementary school class picture to figure out how to spell his name correctly so when that narcissistic fucker googles himself he can read all about what an asshole he is. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, teaching.

Whenever I walk into an elementary school I feel like I have been immediately thrust into the Lord of the Flies. All that yelling and bell ringing and bad artwork hanging everywhere is offensive to my senses. And what is with the smell? Why do elementary schools need to smell like that? Some type of Franken mixture of stale bologna, glue, cleaning supplies and urine. How could anyone want to work in that environment all day everyday? And enjoy it? And not even get paid that well to do it? No thanks.

One day last year in a weak moment I volunteered to be the parent helper in my son’s class for some project they were doing. I was there for two hours, and when it was over I couldn’t leave fast enough. I raced back to work and immediately started making out with my desk. Full tongue and everything. It was awesome.

So, here is a big shout out to all you teachers in the world. Thank you for taking the bullet for the rest of us. I won’t even begrudge you the 2 months off you get in the summer. And the 2 weeks at Christmas. And the other 10 days around Easter.

Hmmmmmm.

Sweatshops are totally underrated.

So, I gotta say that so far this summer has been da bomb. Exploiting my family and turning them into sweatshop workers paid off big time and the two weeks spent at the cabin were fabulous. Mother Nature was being a total fucking bitch and didn’t see fit to provide us with the best weather of all time, but we had enough warm and sunny days to get in some swimming, boating and general laziness, which was pretty much my entire agenda.

Yes, that's me. In a bathingsuit on the internet. That's as close as I'm getting and the imagine gets super grainy when you try and zoom in so don't even bother. But...doesn’t that look like a good time? It was. Doing sweet fuck all for two weeks was all I thought it would be and more. Here are a few shots of the cabin –



Nice, huh? See why I was willing to whore out my husband and children? Lakefront people!! Lakefront!!!

And, when the weather wasn’t the greatest we played board games. Just so you know, internet, you are reading the literary works of the all time World Champion of Scattergories. Notorious people starting with a K? The Klu Klux Klan! THREE points right there. Crimes starting with a W? Whaling! Can you think of a crime that starts with a W in under 60 seconds?? It’s not easy. Clearly being the current Scattergories Champion of the World proves I’m a superior thinker. I’ve already put it on my resume.

So now, today….I went back to work. Back to my cold and sterile office building with my desk in the middle of the hallway. Back to the mind-numbing buzz of the florescent lights. Back to words and phrases like ‘template’ and ‘Governance Committee’ and ‘Meeting of the Board of Directors’. Back to highlighters and staplers and paperclips and that little chime that goes off constantly alerting you to the fact that there is yet another new email. Sigh. The party’s over.

FoN OUT

Sup yall! Today is the day we're heading off to enjoy the fabulous lakefront cabin I acquired in exchange for turning my family sweatshop workers. The Hubby and the older kids were out there all last week doing yard work and now that all that heavy lifting is done I'm taking off for 14 wonderful day of sunning myself and drinking daiquiris. I like daiquiris.

I'm taking the laptop with me, but I have no idea what kind of connectivity they are rocking out there. I might be (shudder) completely without access. Either way I will be recording all of our adventures and taking loads of pictures so I will have plenty of material to annoy the shit out of you with when I return. Have a good couple of weeks bloggy land!

Silly Girl

You know those girls who were are all anti-men types until they got a boyfriend? You know who I’m talking about. Those girls who whose vibrato would echo through the halls of your high school/workplace/coffee shop/ bar about how she feels sorry for all the girls ‘trapped’ in a relationship? Those girls who smugly fluff themselves up about how they can have a man in their life, but how that relationship would never become the ‘centre’ of their life because they’ll always be so much more than just a girlfriend/spouse/partner/significant other? Until of course they actually get a boyfriend and then they suddenly drop off the edge of the planet for weeks at a time? Yeah, as it turns out I’m one of those girls.

I have been married for a really long fucking time. Maybe not that long if we’re talking Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward married, but considering my age a pretty long goddamn time. The Hubby and I have never been one of those annoying couples who can’t make decisions about what to do or where to go until we talk to the other. We’ve never been overly sloppy or affectionate. Aside from picking food or bugs off each other when the occasion warrants, our public affection is pretty limited. Unless we’re drunk – then we’re grabbing each other’s crotches in the booth of the karaoke bar while some asshole is singing ‘Mustang Sally’.

A’hem. Maybe never mind that last bit.

As I was saying, aside from the necessary “You’ve got something in your teeth. No, THAT tooth” kind of stuff, we’re pragmatic. Unless there is sex at the end of the rainbow we really can’t be bothered.

That is until everything we’ve been working for, for the last fifteen years, ACTUALLY FUCKING HAPPENED. No shit! We’re done school, we each have jobs making a nice wage, we have the same working hours, our kids are all out of the baby phase and fun as hell, we live in a nice house, and our neighbours? The Joneses? We’re totally kicking their ass. We have finally reached the Mecca. The promise land, if you will, and it is a nice little normal existence comprised entirely of suburban bliss. Had I been writing this about someone else, I would have used the word ‘drudgery’ right then. SCOFFED at the everyday minutia that only people not nearly as creative and enlightened as myself find themselves existing in on a daily basis. You know what? Fuck that shit.

So far minutia is totally fucking awesome. No scrambling to figure out who is picking up who when. No fighting about who fed the kids between classes/working/lessons/meltdowns. We get up, we head off, come home, eat dinner, play with the kids, drink a bottle of wine, shoot the shit and go to bed. That’s it folks, and WOW is my life easier. I’m in fact so totally into my new reality that I’ve completely dropped off the social radar. I’m not even getting invites out anymore because my friends have figured out that I’m just going to totally ignore them anyway. Why would I go anywhere else? It turns out I actually AM living with my best friend! How cool is that?

Not only have I turned into one of those silly girls who abandon their friends for a dude, but I’m all sunshine and rainbows about it too. In fact, every time I have a conversation outside Mr. Bluebird rests upon my shoulder. I don’t even need to shop anymore because whenever I need anything fairy music starts up and woodland creatures magically appear to dress me in toile and sing me songs about happiness. You know what is the most ironic thing of all? I totally fucking HATE people like me.

I know a new reality will eventually settle in and the fairy music and woodland creatures will tire of me and go looking for their next silly bitch to infect with optimism and hope. I have no doubt my eyes will be rolling again soon enough.

But until that day comes I’m going to enjoy my newfound, if not fleeting, sense of blissful and contented existence. My friends will still be there when I’m ready to come back to the dark side. Something is BOUND to piss me off sooner than later so I'll need them soon enough.

Besides, the Hubby never has any spare tampons in a pinch. That selfish prick.

I hope you have sand in your crack

Hello, ma’am. Yes, that is a lovely bathing suit you have there. The sliver stars really shine against the bright pink background. And don’t worry; you can still totally pull off wearing the same bikini as the 14 year-old girl sitting next to you even though you’re pushing forty. The botox is really helping. That look of utter contempt you just shot my eight year-old son as he mistakenly sprayed a few grains of sand on your beach blanket as he ran excitedly to the lake to get more water for his sandcastle moat was a little uncalled for, however. How nice for you that your very young child sits stone still while gnawing on the same piece of watermelon for two hours, but the rest of us with normal, non-sedated children must learn to tolerate their incessant laughter and silliness while at the BEACH.

You see, most people bring their children to the beach because they have fun there. Since you’re not familiar, fun can best be described as the expenditure of time in a manner designed for pure enjoyment, most often characterized by activities that make the participant of said fun feel joyful. Parents can usually tell their children are having ‘fun’, because they express themselves with laughter, smiles and the occasional excited ‘whoop-whoop’.

If you take your child off the valium and allow him to move about, he may be able to experience fun for himself. I’m sure that piece of watermelon is simply riveting, but so is the GIANT LAKE right in front of him.

Besides, my little bastard is going to get it covered in sand anyway.

Random Tuesday - Jon, Kate and Holden Caulfield walk into a bar....

I know I really need to let the Jon and Kate thing go, but it just pisses me off more and more everyday. She rationalizes keeping the cameras rolling by saying, “Parents work. This is my career and I work for my kids”. Yeah, well most parents work by going to an office, or a restaurant or a car dealership or a factory. The butcher, the baker or the candlestick maker aren't whoring their little ankle biters out for a 'job', now are they? And then there is Jon who goes traipsing around France before the ink is dry on the divorce papers (and who am I kidding, most likely WAY before that) with a 22 year-old girl. That woman was in grade six when his first set of kids were born for crying out loud. What is wrong with these people? Could you imagine being those children and having to go to school everyday? When I was nine my mother dressed me in culottes one lousy day and I was teased for months. I feel so sorry for what those kids have to deal with now just because their parents are morons.

We sealed the deal on the cabin for trade yesterday! We went out on the weekend and had a look-see and it’s fabulous (for those catching up we found an on-line ad offering free rental on a lake front cabin in exchange for yard work). There is a lot of work that needs to get done, but I just happen to have in my possession an unemployed husband and teenager who needs to find a way to pay me back for the cell phone she lost with 26 months remaining on the contract. Hubby and the two oldest are going to head out next week and get most of the trees/bushes cut down and loaded up, and then myself and the little one are going to join them the following week for TWO WHOLE WEEKS at the lake. Ahhhh, the lake. I love the lake. The minute I step out of the car and am surrounded by trees and water I immediately just chill the fuck out.

I’m going to read Catcher and the Rye while I’m on vacation this summer. I’ve always wanted to read it, but have never gotten around to it for some reason. Then I’m going to get a dog and name it Holden Caulfield so everyone will think I’m an intellectual and take me seriously as a writer. Ha! I know, huh? Holla!

The follow are words and phrases I wish I could completely remove from my lexicon without consequence:
- Terms of Reference
- Governance Committee and Board of Directors
- Quarterly report
- Please pass the potato chips
- Where is your cell phone, J?
- Mom, it turns out we’re not going to make it to Winnipeg for a holiday this summer after all….

I think my husband is going to be the best teacher in the whole world. The thought he puts into not only what to teach the kids, but how to teach them is amazing. If all the world’s educators approached their jobs in this way, the planet would be filled with much different people.

I still need a pedicure. I'm prety sure I could sharpen knives on my feet at this point. I should really address this situation before vacation because I’m not planning on wearing shoes for two whole weeks. Hmmm…..maybe I should get one AFTER I’m back from the lake.

That is it for me, now go see Keely – she is queen of all things insightful and visionary. Is that better?