Archive | September, 2012

Top O’ the Muffin To Ya!

20 Sep

A conversation at the gym today:

Trainer:  How’s your nutrition been?

Me:  *hesitates*….I like carbs.  A lot.

Trainer:  Well, do you like your muffin top?




For the record, he was kidding.  Also for the record, mainly everything I ate today was chock-full of carbs.  Delicious, delicious carbs.



My husband, the pickiest eater on Earth

19 Sep

My husband Kevin is pretty awesome.  He’s crazy smart, super-funny, sweet, caring, etc. etc. etc.  I could go on and on.
His one major flaw?  He is the pickiest eater ever.  EVER.

It’s insane what this man will eat, what he refuses to eat, and what food he needs to alter in order to make it acceptable to eat.

He will eat chicken noodle soup, but picks out any celery he might find in it.  He won’t eat spaghetti noodles because he doesn’t like the shape (bowtie and penne pastas are acceptable alternatives).  Vegetables are refused immediately (broccoli is often referred as a ‘vile weed,’ ala Newman from Seinfeld).  He WILL eat corn as a side dish, but he WON’T eat corn IN a dish (for example, enchiladas).  Which is fine, because he really doesn’t like enchiladas anyway.  He likes dill pickles on the side of his burgers but never on them.  He overcooks frozen pizza so the cheese is slightly burned because he has an aversion to gooey cheese.

This is just a small compilation, my friends.

Pickiness when it comes to food is a foreign concept to me.  Kevin and I talked over dinner one night about what foods I DON’T like.  I couldn’t think of one.  I’m not fond of radishes, but will eat them.  I guess I don’t care for runny eggs.  I’ve never actually eaten liver but I imagine I wouldn’t like it.  That’s about it.

To his credit, Kevin does try new things when I make them.  I cook things that I really, really think he will like, taking care to not purposefully feed him something he loathes, but rather incorporate those things in a way where he won’t make a barf face as he eats.  The process usually goes like this:

I make a sensational (okay, fine. Edible) meal, which is usually healthy and mainly made of foods he likes, or at least tolerates.  I set the plate with said food in front of him. And wait.

I am excited.

I am hopeful.

I wait with quiet anticipation, hoping that this will be a new favorite dish.

And 95% of the time, this is his reaction:

And then I’m like

Needless to say, there are about 5 meals in our dinner rotation.  When I don’t cook (partially out of laziness but mainly due to sheer frustration over not being able to find something he really, truly enjoys eating), Kevin’s main food groups consist of:

Just this past Sunday, I didn’t feel much like cooking so while at the grocery store I grabbed a few cans of soup and some bread to make soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.  Tomato soup, of course, goes the best with grilled cheese but, of course, Kevin has always told me he doesn’t like tomato soup so I bought him some chicken noodle instead.  I got home and told him my dinner plan.  He was all, “You didn’t buy tomato soup?  Tomato soup is what you’re supposed to eat with grilled cheese sandwiches.”

Oh, WTF.

So for dinner he got a grilled cheese sandwich (with only 3/4 piece of cheese – remember the aversion to gooey cheese) that may or may not have been squished paper-thin out of frustration.

In the end, I am determined to find foods that Kevin will eat and actually enjoy and that are actually somewhat healthy.  Again to his credit, he always thanks me after cooking dinner and tells me he appreciates my efforts, which softens the blow a bit.  Plus he does the dishes, which I hate doing, so that helps too.

Despite his pickiness, I really do love him, I swear. 🙂

What I did today instead of buying pants

17 Sep

We have a new dress code that is being enforced at work soon.  As of October 1st, we will no longer be allowed to wear denim.  Correction – we will no longer be allowed to wear BLUE denim, but colored denim is fine.  So, these are not acceptable:

But these apparently are acceptable dress code options:

And I’m all:

I hate shopping for pants.  Loathe.  Despise.  HATE.  I have had the same black dress pants that I bought back in 1999.  (Back off, I wear them once every 2 years.)  I have purchased jeans from the same store in the same style for the last 8 years, and I swear if said store ever discontinues that style, I will cry tears of fiery rage.  Buying pants of any kind is a pretty difficult feat due to my shape and short, stubby legs.  Bottom line – if I don’t have to shop for pants, I don’t.  And I haven’t for many, many years.  Until this dress code thing came into play.

We’re quickly approaching Judgement Day, and I’ve yet to go shopping for appropriate work pants.  I knew I had to go today and at least check out my options.  But I didn’t want to.  Oh, how I didn’t want to.  There is one thing you should know about me – I am the queen of avoidance.  If I don’t want to do something, I will find literally ANY excuse to avoid doing said chore.  That’s exactly what happened this morning.  So, in no particular order, here are some things that I did this morning in order to avoid going on a quest for pants.  Stupid, stupid pants.

-Paced back and forth from the kitchen to the living room no less than 20 times

-Made 3 cups of coffee

-Caught up on episodes of My Drunk Kitchen and Jenna Marbles on youtube

-Puppy snuggles!

-Stared at my eyebrows in the bathroom mirror; proceeded to make funny faces at myself

-Rearranged the dishes in the kitchen sink

-Thought about emptying the dishwasher in order to put said dishes in rather than simply rearranging them

-More puppy snuggles!!!

-Googled “biggest movie mistakes of all time,” “benefits of the Paleo diet,” “Why do Taylor Swift’s teeth look so weird?,” and “Back to the Future inventions that actually came true”

-Attempted to french braid my hair

-E-mailed a question to a psychic

-Attempted to weenie-wrap our dog Newman in a blanket like a baby

Ultimately, I ran out of pointless things to do and begrudgingly got dressed and went shopping in preparation for Pantsapalooza 2012.  After hitting 3 stores with no success, I began to feel myself get emotional.

I went from this:

to this:

to this:

and finally this:

I eventually found a pair of brown pants at Wal-Mart of all places that are certainly not going to win me any fashion awards but at least don’t 1.) make me look like a Target employee, 2.) give me camel toe, or 3.) make me look elderly, so I will consider it a small success.  I have decided, though, that I am going to stop stressing over something as silly as pants and take this attitude instead:

Happy Sunday, ya’ll.