It’s Double-stuffed Oreo time for me!

For those of you who watch what you eat, here’s the final word on nutrition and health. It’s a relief to know the truth after all those conflicting nutritional studies!  Although I’m not so sure my hubby, Mr. Fit Forever, would agree with me…

1. The Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

2. The Mexicans eat a lot of fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

3. The Chinese drink very little red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

4. The Italians drink a lot of red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans..

5. The Germans drink a lot of beer and eat lots of sausages and fats and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

CONCLUSION: Eat and drink what you like. Speaking English is apparently what kills you.

Oxy Moron

As far as I know, I haven’t been invited to a homecoming dance and I don’t have a biology test in the morning.  But my face seems to think otherwise.

I have zits.  Plural.  ZitSSSSS.

My chin looks like a small cluster of stalactites have started growing in the southern hemisphere and just northeast of there, I have what appears to be a small mountain range forming next to my nose. I’ve been avoiding them all week.  I thought if I ignored them, they would go away.  Until today.  I was applying makeup when I noticed that I kept turning my head to the right and making sure my chin was in the downward position so I could focus on my good side.  Stupid 15X magnification mirror!

Adult acne.

Two words that should not be in the same sentence.  Puberty occurred 35 years ago and it appears that someone forgot to send an invitation to ACNE, so after stalking me all these years it finally caught up to me.  Now it knows I’m post menopausal and I won’t have a clue how to get rid of it.

Fortunately, thanks to the divine virtual world I’ve uncovered a cure…or at least what I hope is a cure.

Apple cider vinegar.

Last month I had ring worm.  After Tom took away the hair brush I was using to scratch myself, I consulted the various medical discussion boards and found out that bleach will take away the itch.  To my relief it worked.  I spent 6 weeks smelling like a hospital, and in spite of the layers of skin I lost and the extensive plastic surgery I’m going to need, I got rid of it.

Now I’m emitting the aroma of salad dressing.

Yep.  My husband is one LUCKY man.

Uninvited guest.  Initial conclusion.  Going nowhere.  Civil war.  Great Depression. Bad luck.  Same difference.  Strangely familiar.  Silent scream.  Perfect idiot.  Problem solved.

Dumb blonde.  Almost exactly.

Chick-fil-A but not today

Because the mileage on our 2003 Honda was at the ‘I’ve been with you guys long enough, it’s just not fun anymore, I’d rather be driven by a wrinkle-free college student!’ phase and we’re saving money to buy the upcoming mid-life crisis sports car, in the meantime – we’re sharing my car. Or rather, Tom is hogging it and I’m without wheels. Unless you count the bicycle he bought me but it doesn’t have air conditioning, which means that I would perspirea lot. And since I don’t like to SWEAT, I’m not going anywhere until hell freezes over – literally.

Not that I went out much before – my 2008 Honda only has 18,000 miles on it. Last week we drove to Houston which meant that the odometer rolled to *gulp* 19,000 miles. Tom thinks I’m crazy but I’ve been saving those miles.

Go ahead and laugh. Tom blames it on my obsessive compulsion of not liking to have trash in the trash can. But bragging rights to whose car has the lowest number showing on the dashboard runs in my family.  It’s genetic.

Not having a car means no quick trips to the grocery store or a drive-thru when I’m craving something. Last week was my first experience of being transportation-less. I ate a ham sandwich every day for lunch – AND breakfast. I wouldn’t be surprised if I started oinking from an overload of pork consumption.

Usually when Tom comes home from work I ask him about his day and then I talk about the cats. Typical chit-chat for the empty-nester/cat people we’ve sadly become. But not last week! No, no, no! All I cared about was what he ate for lunch.

Everything was fine until Friday. Up until then, his lunch had consisted of salad and water, but on Friday I could smell it on his breath…HE WENT TO CHICK-FIL-A!

I LOVE CHICK-FIL-A. And now, I was jealous.

‘Oh, so that’s how it is – I get a dry sandwich every day and you get WAFFLE FRIES!’

After a few minutes of letting me pout he apologized to me. That’s right, he apologized. Mr. Fit Forever is Mr. Sensitive too.

And yes people, this is what life looks like when your kids fly the coop. We have nothing better to do than argue about Chick-fil-A nuggets and play dress up with the cats.

I posted this video a couple of months ago, but thought it appropriate to play again. And because I want you to really feel my pain, I thought it fitting to post it today, Sunday.

Cravings will have to wait until tomorrow, pouting may now commence…