Spaghetti and I have a complicated relationship.

I remember as a small child (younger than 4) being served spaghetti and excusing myself from the kitchen table to go dump it into the bathroom trash can. Was I sneaky or what? My mama would never, ever notice the pile of spaghetti stinking up her bathroom.  I was sly indeed.

Nowadays, my darling husband requests spaghetti for dinner frequently. I am thrilled to make it for him as it’s easy, super cheap, and will last for days and days as his lunch and dinner, and heaven forbid that I cook dinner more than 4 nights a week. If I did my head might just explode (I annoy myself).

I think it’s the meat that grosses me out so.

As I’ve mentioned before, I adamantly love meat. Steak, chicken, fish, pork, you name it…meat is my people. I dream about filet mignon’s, but ground meat, well, that’s a different story.

Why, you ask?

I don’t know why it grosses me out so much..it just does.

And meatballs? I just threw up in my mouth.

There is one and only one exception to this rule. When I use rotini (the spiral noodles) or penne pasta, with veggies (onion, green peppers, etc), and no meat, I like it for the first 5 minutes after it’s done. Longer than 5 minutes it begins getting all stuck together and icky.

You think I’m making this up.

I’m so not.

Ya see, I’m a complicated eater.

As you know, I love all things sugar. There’s really no formula to follow there.

If it’s made out of sugar then chances are that I love it (with very few exceptions).

But “real” food. Now, that’s different.

Like many people, texture has everything to do with everything.

Pasta is a bit slimy. Maybe that’s the answer.

And the meat is all chunky and disgusting…again, a texture issue.

And the pasta sauce is wet.

I prefer my food dry.

Ya know, with no additions.

If I had a dollar for every time I’ve had this conversation in my lifetime,

Me: “I’d like to order a plain grilled chicken sandwich.”

Waiter: “Plain? So just the chicken, mayo and bread?”

Me: “No, plain. Like just the chicken and the bread. Nothing else.”

Waiter: “Are you sure?”

Me: “Yes, yes, yes.”

Then miraculously the sandwich comes out with cheese, lettuce, tomato, and mayo. It’s like the chef things he knows better than me. But, I assure you, he doesn’t.

Someday I’ll tell you lots of little stories about my plight with all white foods. Cheese, mayonnaise, salad dressing, sour cream, cream cheese….they are my enemies…but today isn’t the day.

For today, is the day that I confess that my weird relationship with spaghetti confuses even me.

I’ve accepted it though. Yes friends, I’ve accepted that I have a problem and I’m moving on.

In fact, I would have a bite of the freshly made spaghetti, but its’ been 8 minutes and I just can’t do it.

Maybe next time.

Surely I’m not the only one with weirdy food tendencies. I told you mine…you’ve gotta tell me yours!

Nearly every day for the past four years I have I made my darling husbands lunch.  Even when we were dating, his neatly packed lunch was ready for him in the fridge every day when he left for work.

I’m not really sure how we began this tradition, but somewhere along the way it has become habit.

Before you go thinking I’m a totally awesome wife, hold your horses.

While I do make his lunches, I do have a few rules.

No ooey gooey things like sauces or mayo. Grody.

No lettuce or tomatoes on the sandwiches, way too much work.

No pickles ever. Totally and completely disgusting.

Just a note: mayonnaise grosses me out to such a severe degree that I can barely look at it, much less put it on a sandwich.  So although Zach has begged for it for all these years, I just can’t bare it.  It’s a small miracle that mustard makes in, as it grosses me out as well. Luckily, for Zach, the mustard is a squeeze bottle so I never actually have to touch anything.

Yes, I’m a huge girly girl.  What of it?

Anyhow, every day when Zach gets home from work he is ravenous.  I try to have his dinner ready when he gets home, but let’s face it, often it just doesn’t happen.

So one day in particular he comes home starving and I have chicken stir fry made for dinner (which he normally loves).

When he sees dinner on the stove I can sense his disappointment.  So I say in my 1950′s southern housewife voice, “Oh no honey! Would you like something besides stir fry?  I’ll make you whatever you’d like. How about a scotch to hold you over?”

Yeah right.

I confess that it was more like, “What, you don’t like it?  I worked really hard to have it done when you got home and the baby is clingy and I’m tired and, sniff sniff, you hate it and you hate me.”

Because I’m whiny and annoying and insecure.

Then, being the best husband EVAH, he comes over and hugs and kisses me and says that he loves it and appreciates me and how hard I work for our family.

If I were a 50′s housewife I would have let it go, instead, my annoyingly insecure self continues to ask why he hates stir fry and how long exactly has he hated me?

He should have shook me and told me to get ahold of myself, but instead he continued to encourage me and tell me how wonderful I was.

Told ya he’s a saint.

Finally, after he goes on and on about how much he loves me, I forget all about his hatred of all things stir fry and our dinner was wonderful.

After dinner he says, “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I’m still hungry.”

I said, “Why are you still hungry? I made you 2 sandwiches for lunch today and stir fry for dinner.  You shouldn’t still be hungry.”

Then, in the sweetest most gentle voice my sweet soul-mate says, “Ya know, when you make my sandwiches, sometimes you get in a hurry and only put one piece of deli meat between the bread and throw in a granola bar. One time it wasn’t even a whole piece, it was half of a piece. No mayo, mustard, lettuce, tomato, anything.  That’s really not enough food for me to eat from 6am-5pm.  I get really hungry.”

Then, he practically closed his eyes and waited for my ultimate wrath to befall him.

Instead, much to his enjoyment, I began dying laughing.

“I only put one piece of deli meat in your sandwich? For real? What was I thinking?”

When he realized that I wasn’t going to fall all to pieces he continued to tell me about how my good deed of making his lunches are sometimes more like a small snack.

We laughed and laughed and laughed some more. He endlessly made fun of me of not putting mayo on the sandwiches and barely giving him any meat at all and I made fun of him for not telling me sooner.  As it turns out, my quest to make him lunch every day is more like me making lunch for a kindergartner. Silly me.

So much for my quest to get a #1 wife of the year t-shirt with a matching airbrushed license plate.

Maybe next year.

Now that it’s all out in the open I’m trying to put at least 2 slices of meat per sandwich:).

Ha! Makes me laugh.

Life is fun.

Day at the Zoo! All sweaty and stuff.

Well friends, my love/hate relationship with Weight Watchers continues.

Missed it? Read about it here, here, and here.

As you know, I’ve been trudging myself to WW since March 1st in honor of my ” Baby Weight Be Gone Campaign.”  Since then we’ve taken a vacation to Colorado and one to the Beach (note my “Fry” escapades). That said, I haven’t exactly followed the program perfectly (shocker), but I’ve done fairly well considering my sugar addiction.

Luckily, I’ve basically kicked my candy habit and I focus solely on Weight Watcher desserts to curb my need for sweets.  They are actually quite excellent…I mean, they aren’t exactly Milk Duds, but they’ll do in a pinch.

So, are you ready for the big beautiful news of how much I’ve lost?????  Am I keeping you in suspense????  I hate when people keep me in suspense!!!!

36 pounds.

Sure, it’s not like I’m wearing a size 2, but let’s face it, if I’m ever a size 2 I’ll be in the hospital on a feeding tube.  My bones wouldn’t even fit into a size 2 and I’m OK with that.

I’m currently wearing my pre-pregnancy jeans and I feel really great.  I’m proud that I’ve lost the weight and I feel like myself again.

But, here’s the thing, as you probably know, losing weight is 98% mental. I’ve only been in “weight loss” mode twice in my life.  It takes a lot to get in the zone, so I figure, while I’m here I’m gonna stay.

It wouldn’t kill me to lose another 20 or 30 pounds before I get knocked up again anyway:).

The bad news is that now the weight is hanging on tight.  Technically I’ve lost an average for 2 lbs. per week, but the weight has definitely slowed down as I’ve got less and less to lose.

But honestly, I’ll take what I can get.

Unfortunately, riding the wave of WW momentum isn’t going to last forever, I fear that I am actually going to have to consistently work out in order to lose more weight.

So, I’m hoping to either walk or Shred at least 5 days a week.  Doable?  We’ll see.

Anyone have any awesome low-fat recipes that you’d like to share?  Any great weight loss stories to keep everyone motivated???  Do tell!  I need all the help that I can get!

Love to all,

M

Have you ever been to a fish fry?

If not, please go.  Get off the computer and google “Fish Fry” and find one in your area.

If you don’t have one, that’s OK, just get in the car and go to Calabash, NC. Drive directly to “The Seafood Hut” and order anything you’d like. Everything is fried, and I do mean everything. As in, they don’t even have baked potatoes, in fact, they don’t even have an oven.  Only fryers.  My kinda place.

If you still refuse me, go to Wal-Mart and buy a Fry Daddy, which is basically a big pot of hot oil (awesome), bread some fish, fry it, and finally enjoy every single glorious bite.

After you have completed the above tasks then you’re cleared to continue reading.

As you can see, if it’s fried then I like it (except for fried pickles. Makes.Me.Wanna.Vomit).

So on vacation with my big beautiful family, I made it my personal mission to eat as much fried food as humanly possible.  And as much sugar as I could find, soft drinks, doughnuts, and hush puppies and anything else that I could get my grubby little fingers on.

By the way, I have a confession: Hush puppies and I have a long standing love affair.

While my heart belongs to sugar, I do occasionally cheat on my one true love with hush puppies.

Please don’t tell my beloved sugar.  It will only hurt it’s feelings.

Anyway, back to my week of gluttony.

In my defense, I have been on hard core Weight Watchers for nearly 4 months (which equals a lifetime in MollyWorld), I was due for a breakedy break.

And a break I did have.

After months of a diet of watermelon, Lean Cuisines, veggies and grilled meat, I turned to a life of a carnival worker.  While I didn’t have any fried Twinkies (not that I was above it- I just didn’t have the opportunity), I capitalized on my break and ate, and ate and ate some more.

Yes, I am reluctantly back on WW and will hang my head in shame when I walk in next week, but when they inevitably tell me that I’ve gained at least 23 pounds in a week, I will just close my eyes and taste the luxurious fried flounder with a side of hush puppies, and go to my happy place in fry heaven.

I’ll keep you posted on the damage that was done…stay tuned in my adventures in my ‘Baby Weight Be Gone Campaign,’ and join in me in hoping that I’ve only gained 21 pounds, rather than 23.

(Totally, totally, totally worth it).

Crusin' with my ladies!

Sometimes you just need a break…a getaway to paradise…with your ladies.

There is nothing quite like a trip away with your best friends to ease any stress that life can bring.

So four of my best friends and I declared that a cruise was in order to the beautiful Bahamas.  We had never been on a cruise so we were all amazed at the mere size of the ship…and the people.  People were everywhere!

If you’ve ever been on a cruise you realize that the main theme for the duration of your time on the trip is FOOD.

After we boarded and unpacked we ventured to one of the restaurants for lunch and schemed about where we would have dinner…and so it goes.  We ate a lot.  And we loved every single bite.

Do I regret it? Not a chance.

There is something binding about being on a huge ship with people and everyones #1 goal is to eat.  We were all joined by the desire to gain 5 pounds.  In fact, I wonder if they take that in mind while loading up the ship.  If everyone on the ship gains 5 pounds collectively, will it sink?

Questions for the ages I tell you.

Anyway, I digress.

After being on the ship for a few hours and exploring we realized beyond a shadow of a doubt:

We were the only white people on the ship.

Not really, but it was close.

Was this a bad thing:  ABSOLUTELY NOT.

In fact, it enriched our trip and we made great friends, and laughed so hard we cried on many occasions.  Our new friends were so fun!

Every night at dinner we had the pleasure of sitting with our new buddies.

One big theme on our cruise were our nightly Karaoke sessions.  All our of new found friends would sing the likes of Whitney, Mary J., and Patty Labelle and we would sing Celine (you simply CANNOT NOT sing “My Heart Will Go On” on a cruise), Kermit the Frog (you know, the rainbow connection- duh), and lots Reba.  Lots and Lots of Reba.

My famous karaoke song of choice (you all have one- don’t deny it), is “Fancy” by Reba McIntyre.

Don’t judge, it’s a great song and you’re all singing it in your head right now- admit it.

Anyway, we had been on the ship for a few days and had been LOVING hanging out with our new friends when I got up to sing my song.  They all cheered and were awaiting my big reveal of my famous Fancy rendition.

As I grabbed the microphone, I remembered a certain line in the song that made me want to run and jump into the ocean.  How could I not have remembered this line before I asked to sing it? At that point I should have just politely said, “Never mind” and walked off the stage…but no.  I didn’t.  I was in for it.

So the song began and I got into my groove while still completely freaking out about the looming line.   The good news about the song is that there are 78 verses, so it took awhile for me to experience complete and utter embarrassment.  So I did what I do…

I am karaokeaholic.

I obsessed.

For all 78 lines of my beloved song, I wondered if I could just sing it in Spanish (am I fluent you ask- NO!  But I could totally make it up), or drop the microphone and then trip on the wires, or better yet, maybe I could start sneezing over and over again until the line was done.

But none of those things happened.

The music marched on and I decided to buck up and sing the darn line.  I am from Avery County after all.

As I looked out at an ocean of beautifully dark and lovely faces I threw caution to the wind and reclaimed my redneck roots by  belting,

“I Might Have Been Born Just Plain White Trash, But Fancy Was A My Name.”

That’s right.

Maybe I totally overreacted and dramatized the entire incident, but put yourself in my place, on a huge boat of hundreds of people that look different than you, is it a good decision to publicly (and loudly) point out that difference?

I think not.