Food is not my friend

I was talking to La Simpatica the other day. We were talking about food. She was saying something about being hungry and wanting something sweet. Actually, it wasn't even about being hungry, it was about having the urge to eat.

"Food is not my friend", was my reply.

"But it's so good", she said.

"No", I said, 'Food is like a really bad boyfriend, the one you swear you've finally washed your hands of and you're not going to have anything to do with, ever again, regardless of how good the sex is. Then he shows up on your doorstep and it's all over."

That about sums up my relationship with food. I wish I'd been born a WASP sometimes. As far as I can tell, their opinion of food is that it is sustenance. They also seem to like things bland.

I grew up in a culture where food was a way of life. Cream, butter, meat, potatoes, pasta, pretty much anything that should not figure in a healthy diet. In other words anything that is good. Don't even get me started talking about desserts and the underappreciated custard. Creme Bruleee is decadent in its sheer simplicity. Bavaroise is it's slutty sister in a big poofy ball gown. I remember one particular experiment with a lime Bavarian Cream, flavored with tequila and served with a raspberry coulee.

Perhaps a pork loin, butterflied and rolled with brandied prunes with a red currant sauce finished with heavy cream and served up with whipped potatoes.

As you are probably able so see from what I'm talking about, when I was more overweight, I had earned every last artery clogging pound. Perhaps that is why I have so little patience with the average overweight American.

Instead of lingering with a charming gigilo that is leading you down the garden path, they are shacking up with the 2 dollar whore of fast food. I don't really think most of the people carrying around saddle bags love food. They just love to stuff their faces. Theirs is the sin of gluttony. I would equate my problems with food more along the lines of lust. If I am going to eat my way into a heart attack, I want the experience to be worth it. I'd rather regret something that features hollandaise sauce, starch and animal fat that leaves me with a warm afterglow and the urge to smoke a cigarette before I fall asleep than gobble down a Big Mac.

Don't get me wrong. I also love a good burger. But I would prefer one that was once an actual cow and the cheese to be real cheese and not pasturized processed cheese food, thank you very much.

My friend Anne and I in the days that we still went out to the cape always made a pilgrimage to one particular clam shack in Wellfleet for a steaming platter of deep fried goodness. I should also mention they made their own tartar sauce and my attitude was "In for pence in for a pound!" when it came to the condiments, french fries and cole slaw.

If I am going to blimp out, I want to do so eating real food, not eating something that was conjured up in a lab somewhere. I want it to taste like food, not what one of the big food conglomerates have decided is a close approximation of what, say, beef tastes like. If I am going to be punished for my sins, I want to at least enjoy the sinning portion of the program.

At any rate, the struggle continues on. I will say this though for watching what you eat. On those occasions when you do fall off the wagon and follow your impulse rather than your better instincts you thoroughly enjoy the occasion. If like the bad boyfriend it takes a while to recover from the mess that has been made at least you had a really good time getting into trouble.

Secret Personality

Gavin had this posted over on his blog, so I thought I'd take the test. I'm not entirely displeased, though I really thought I'd wind up as Oscar.

You Are Dr. Bunsen Honeydew

You take the title "mad scientist" to the extreme -with very scary things coming out of your lab. And you've invented some pretty cool things, from a banana sharpener to a robot politician. But while you're busy turning gold into cottage cheese, you need to watch out for poor little Beaker! "Oh, that's very naughty, Beaker! Now you eat these paper clips this minute."

The Muppet Personality Test

Playing Catch Up

Sorry I haven't been posting for the past few days. After I was feted and recognized I was sent back to work and with Monkey out on leave, work has been a bit hectic. Like actually requiring my attention instead of killing spare minutes blogging. There haven't been many spare minutes.

In the news for me. I have been slaving at work as I mentioned, slaving at the gym which goes without saying and sleeping and trying not to eat everything that comes to hand.

I did get a rather handsome check from work for my award.

Then the government put their hand in my pocket. Then I went to my dentist, Dr. Hunky and about half of what the government left me disappeared. On the bright side, Dr. Hunky doesn't do anything unless it is necessary and while I know I need to have 3 more teeth crowned, he didn't schedule the next tooth, so I am assuming that these are not pressing. Have I ever mentioned that I love Dr. Hunky or what a good dentist he is? 'Cause he is.

Then my faithful Nokia brick has become ill. I love this phone because it is so ugly no one will ever steal it. It was at the time the cheapest phone available and has survived being dropped, kicked, bounced and on one memorable butterfingers occasion flying across the room into the wall. It has done what I want out of a phone. Make calls, answer calls, send text messages and receive text messages.

However all good things come to an end and a couple of the buttons seem to be getting "soft" which I gather is the term. The problem is that my carrier no longer carries any of the cast iron cell phones that I prefer. So I had to go off to the internet to find an unlocked phone that will work with my carrier. I managed to find an old model of Nokia that the vendor claims is still in the original box. That however was a few more bucks. Le sigh.

The rest I have shoved into my savings account as seed money for my upcoming trip to NYC in May.

However not all is doom and gloom. A couple of days after the ceremony, one of my co-workers sent me a couple of pictures that she took at the ceremony. She used to sell suits at Filene's a now defunct department store that we had here in Boston. She is the person who recommended the tailor that managed to fix the suit so that it actually fit, since all clothes seem to be cut for those who are a little wealthier in waistline, or so it seems.



My reaction was, "Wow, the suit makes me look like I have shoulders!" One of my co-workers who was standing there when I opened my email said something to the effect of, "Dude, that is how you look."

Ever the Doubting Thomas I decided to take a picture with my beautiful new camera when I got home from the gym today to see what I really look like.



While I will be the first to admit that the padding in the shoulders really helps, I also am feeling like all those dead lifts are starting to pay off. I actually have lats! Who knew?

As you can probably tell, since Tuesday, my life has been so exciting that I have been reduced to talking about my workout. On the bright side of the workout, I think I got cruised by a really, and I do mean REALLY handsome man. By handsome, I mean handsome. Not pretty. Not cute. Handsome.

I'll let you know if I work up the courage to actually speak to him the next time I see him.

Hopefully, life will get a little more exciting and spring is coming so I will be able to once again bore you all to tears with pictures of my garden. Speaking of, I have to sit down with the White Flower catalog and decide how I'm going to squander the gift certificate from The Niece.

Later guys, I gotta do some shopping!