Browsing Tag

Food

Thoughts

What I’m gettin’ myself into Vol. 3

January 27, 2016

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1. Honestly, I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to discover Girls. It has all the ingredients of a big, delicious Courtney cookie: Super awkward moments,  brutally honest and uncomfortable conversations and tons of self-deprecating humor. When Hannah’s coworkers filled in her eyebrows, I pushed all my chips into the pot. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m a sucker for a series about girlfriends. Maybe it’s that Lena Dunham’s character reminds me of my college roommate Sarah, who has a special place in my heart. Whatever the case, I blew threw the first season on AmazonPrime like a cop with a dozen donuts. Of course, that’s just the shot of narcotics they inject to get you hooked and then you have to buy the rest of the seasons. I’m stalled at the third episode of season 2 waiting for my dealer to get it together. 2. I’m in the final stretch of my third Whole30 and at a time like this one is likely to start grasping at straws when the sugar demons start to taunt. My safety net arrived in a bright gold package of dried nanners from Costco. These things are so good, you guys, and I ate so many of them that I damaged my dental work. Literally. I had a tooth ache for 24 hours, which was my mouth telling my hand to drop the freaking bag and step away from the bananas. It took my husband finally calling me out for me to admit that I was replacing my sugar-sugar fixation with a dried fruit one. But I love them. I am a minion. 3. I’m not going to post monthly pictures of my new tops or stretchy pants –no one needs to see that – but I will say I’m surprised how fast I fell for Stitch Fix. I went in as a skeptic. I have wide hips, bigger thighs, leftover mother pudge, but I got swept away in the mob mentality. Admittedly, there have been some major misses. But there have been more hits, and who doesn’t like a surprise box of clothes every so many weeks? It’s such a treat. My one gripe would be the prices. I sent one shirt back (price tag $115) with the comment, “You don’t know me, but I laughed when I saw the cost of this top. Nothing is that cute.” I got a new stylist on my next box. But sticker shock aside, I’m digging my new duds. It’s worth it to give it a try just once and I’ve found that when I ask for “a little bit funky but functional with lots of pattern” that’s when the party really begins. 4. Speaking of clothes, I am one of those stereotypical Midwestern suburban women who puts a much higher value on the perfect pair of sweats than I do skirts or stilettos. After 3 decades of options that were too tight, too itchy, too big or too short, I have found the one. The pair. The only sweatpants any person who takes their bra off and put their pjs on the moment they get home from work needs. Victoria Secret’s Boyfriend Pant is where it’s at, ladies, and you can take that to the bank because I know my casual clothing. Honestly it’s like having two fleece-bellied monkeys clinging to each of your legs. Plus, there are so many colors you can have a different pair for every day of the week. 5. As I’ve aged, I’ve learned the importance of investing in better quality cosmetics. And since the day I started to embrace that realization I’ve had the Urban Decay eyeshadow palette pinned to Pinterest board. Could I justify spending $50 on lid paint? No. But then Christmas came around. Could I justify having someone else spend it? Maybe. The UD Gwen Stefani Eyeshadow Palette is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on and ever put on my eyes. I love the hues and I only dip my brush in it’s sensational circles on super-special occasions. 6. On my last edition of What I’m getting myself into, I declared my love for Parks and Rec. And a big part of that was Tom Haverford. So when I saw Aziz Ansari had his own show on Netflix I was optimistic but careful not to be too optimistic. It’s like when I watched Meet the Morgans after a Sex and the City marathon. It just changed things between me and SJP. But that definitely didn’t happen here. I adore him more, and differently. This is a side of Aziz that feels more organic to his true personality with Tom Haverford playing peek-a-poo in the rare scene. I knew it was true love when, after concluding the available episodes, I felt that same emptiness I felt after I finished Friday Night Lights or got all caught up on House of Cards. Here’s hoping Master of None comes back for Season 2.

Wellness

Might as well face it, you’re addicted to food

October 19, 2015

This is a post about control.

And, more accurately, the fact I don’t have any.

On Friday, my college roommates came to town for a lovely little visit. These girls are family to me and I always want to make sure their tummies are full and the gentle, jolly tingle of a perfect booze buzz is constant. I went to Costco Friday morning and got plenty of goodies for dinner, dessert, apple cider sangria (the best recipe for a fall get together) and breakfast Saturday morning. Some of Hank’s family was stopping by, so I figured it was enough of a crowd to justify Costco portions.

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After the last chicken flew the coop Saturday afternoon, I was left facing a few certainties: 1) I really adore those girls, and 2) I had a shit ton of food left over. Of course the salted chocolate-covered caramels and spinach and artichoke dip with parmesan are finding spots to settle in and leave lardy sediments in my thighs, but the bigger concern is the devil temptress known as the Costco cinnamon butter crumb coffee cake.

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I want you to, just for a moment, imagine your round cake pan. Mentally pull it from your cabinet. Can you picture it? Now I want you to visualize baking 3 cakes in that pan, piecing them together, topping each cake with balls of butter and sugar, and then pulling up a seat to watch me eat them. All of the cakes. Just me. Every last sinful crumb. That is what happened between the hours of 9:30 am Saturday and 8 pm Sunday night.

I impregnated myself – one forkfull at a time – with a baby made of enriched flour, real butter and refined sugars. Self sabotage is the father and, sadly, it has many, many siblings; all the result of the same pitiful practice. Did you ever see that Sex and the City with Miranda and the chocolate cake? If it had been Sex and the Land of the Super-sized Midwestern American Diet, that would have accurately represented the catastrophe at my crib this weekend.

I think this confirms my suspicion that I am a food addict.

I turned to the top authority on the topic. The Internet. And here is what I found.

8 Symptoms of Food Addiction
(from Authority Nutrition)

1 Cravings despite being full. (yes.) 
2 Eat much more than you intended to. (A Costco-sized coffee cake.)
3 Eat until feeling excessively “stuffed”. (lol and yes, I wear stretchy pants on purpose.) 
4 Feel guilty afterwards, but do it again soon. (Hate myself. … Don’t waste that!) 
5 Making up excuses in your head. (The girls were in town.) 
6 Repeated failures at setting rules for yourself. (On Monday, I go paleo. No, Whole30. No, just sugar free.)
7 Hiding your consumption from others. (For sure waited until I was alone with the cake to take it to pound town.)
8 Unable to quit despite physical problems. (I consider a flat tire a physical problem.)

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So, here I am. A belly full of regret, a tough Monday morning weigh in waiting for me and a half a container full of salted caramels promising failure all week long. What’s a girl to do? Start over, I suppose.

The number of times I’ve sat and dwelled on this depressing reality is gross. I feel like I’m stuck in a divine sugary quick sand. I get my torso out a tiny bit only to fall in almost to my chin by close of binging business Sunday night.

Admittedly, week days are my come to Jesus reset. Oily fish, leafy greens, flax … they all make the starting lineup on days I have to dress up and be a big girl. But from the time I walk out of the office and declare the weekend “in progress,” I’m hammering the fries, condiments and any and everything that stands still long enough to get doused in chocolate.

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I’d say I just need a good strategy and then I’d change my ways. I’d give up my rich, sticky mistress and clean up my ways (and my inflammation). But I would be lying. You see, there’s always a reason to eat the good stuff. Someone brings in bagels for a brainstorm. The folks in your carpool beg for Starbucks. Your kindergartener gets straight “E”s on her report card and wants to celebrate with frozen yogurt. You burn dinner and have to call an audible. And just when you think you’ve come to the end of your excuses, the holidays come along and knock you on your plump ass into a baby pool filled with corn casserole and cheese trays and all of the pies. It’s like the 6th day for the Hungry Caterpillar every damn day for two solid months.

If you have any secrets to success, as always, you can send them my way. In the meantime, if you have a Costco membership, you gotta check out that coffee cake, man. Take it somewhere you can share or somewhere you can hide. Either way, no judgement. But it’s damn good.

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Kids

Plant the seed

August 29, 2015

It’s overcast and breezy in the Midwest; autumn is certainly snarking at us from around the corner. Not to mention the ripple of sickness has spread from JoJo, onto Spikey, and then to Sloppy Joan. The coughing and raspy whispers and low-grade fevers have me missing the sterilizing steam of summer already.

So, there couldn’t have been a better day for me to come across this group of shots from the late spring evening we planted our garden. We’ve never had a smaller yield, thanks to a minor flood in our backyard a few short weeks after the last seeds went in. But it’s a good exercise nonetheless.

I’m a firm believer that our food-of-convenience lifestyles are killing us. I love a greasy butterburger and bag of powdered cheese Cheetos even more than the next guy, but as I age, the chemical-laden buns and 50-letter-long, science-lab ingredients make each bite just a little less enticing. I don’t think I can completely change the way my babies see food, but I can sure as kale try.

The garden is a great way to get them interested. They love picking the plants, digging into the dirt and plucking the vibrant fruits from the vine. By the time the season’s a wrap, I’d estimate they consume an extra cucumber here and a bite of bell pepper there, but the real win is the knowledge that things don’t just show up wrapped in cellophane and bundled with rubber bands. Real food is imperfect, tastes a little like earth and contains superwoman properties. Real food is real good and really worth the effort.

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