What's up with the Bloat?
by SJE:
What’s up with the bloat? And if you are a woman, don’t try and act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I am not talking about the slight bump of squish that every one of us seems to have if we’ve lived longer than a few decades. What I am holding up to the unrelenting light of day is what mysteriously invades our bodies regardless of what we are eating (ok, a combo of a bean burrito and fruit kabobs will never be your friend, but that’s another topic) or how much activity we push ourselves to engage in. (ok, I feel a pedometer is a tool of the devil and let it be said I have been known to walk around in circles in my living room at 11pm like some sort of possessed fool to tally my 10,000 steps for the day).Am I the only one who feels like a helium balloon in the Thanksgiving Parade most days? Matte jersey has never been my friend and I’m ok with that. And also, for the record, one of my nearest and dearest friend is named Spanx. And I’m ok with that too. Except for the time I broke out into a cold sweat when I realized I had accidentally left a pair of orthopedic Spanx undies in my married son’s bathroom after a babysitting junket. I live with enough guilt about scarring my children but to imagine him, or worse, his wife, who wears a tiny thong (I’ve seen them in the wash!) discovering this elastic bondage garment made me queasy.
I am intolerant of many things. Lactose is on the list. And its six degrees of separation bringing me back to the bloat. I want to be healthy,I do. So I eat lots of veggies. Bloat. Lots of legumes. Bloat. Nuts. Bloat. Am I making my point here people? Make friends with your body blah, blah, blah. Welcome the uniqueness of your body rhythms, blah, blah, blah….
10/21/10.
Be afraid. Be very afraid.
by: SJE
Let it be said that Halloween is not my favorite. Perhaps it comes from having five children. As I just wrote that line I realized that could be the reason for my slant on almost any topic. However, Halloween brings up “spooky” visuals for me.
Costumes: In the days when I was deranged, I would squander time, energy, and creative license to come up with just the right costume to fit each child’s aesthetic (who was I kidding? I wanted to be hated by other mothers…very satisfying on many levels) only to have them wanting to only smear some black paint on their faces, tear around the neighborhood collecting as much brain rot sugar as possible. The junior high years were the worst….the BO smell alone, as they sorted, bargained and categorized their loot on the living room floor, was a total gag reflex.
Candy Scarcity Issues: Not my kids, not me, but my husband’s….imagine my horror when I’d catch him giving out ONE MINI TOOSIE ROLL to Trick or Treaters who had five o’clock shadows…real ones….why was he willing to risk life and limb with these candy hungry thugs? Because he wanted to have candy left over….seriously. I come from the school that says “give big handfuls” to each and every goblin…even of driving age. I realize this is only a symptom of a much bigger problem that I believe we tried to deal with during couple’s therapy (where we single handedly paid for all of the therapist’s children’s tuition to private school) But I digress….
Note to any mother wondering how to handle the ravage of all that candy: My rule was that they should eat AS MUCH candy they wanted for two days and then it got pitched. End of story. It kind of “date stamps” the length of the sugar driven crazies.
Best Halloween Story: I have three crazy and wonderful sisters. This is a true story about my oldest sister for her first Halloween as a married woman. She decided it would be fun to sneak out of the house, put a stocking over her head, and get stark naked under a trench coat and ring the doorbell at her house, knowing her husband would answer the door. Ding Dong. Trick or Treat. He answers, she flashes, and he’s horrified. THIS IS TRUE…he thought it was a man in a rubber suit! Did I say it was in the first year of their marriage? Yup.
Current Halloween tradition: I will be tweezing the witch’s hairs from my chin.
