Tag Archives: eating

Teetering the crazy line

I love to eat.  Eating is my passion and favorite pastime.  When I am in consumption mode (especially with foods that I particularly love) everything else becomes a blur which is why I was not on my A game this particular Friday night.

Late Friday (early Saturday AM) Mr. Pavlov and I took the kids to Eat-n-Park after attending a meeting.  They were claiming starvation and muscle wasting and it would be inhumane to deprive them of a meal – i.e. MY stomach was rumbling. 

Tres, who was barely awake to begin with but didn’t want to miss out on anything, fell asleep promptly after placing his cheeseburger and fries order.  He conveniently sprawled out across the oversized booth and utilized my lap as his personal pillow.

Our order arrived just in time because we were all about to join Tres and go horizontal.  The deep-fried onion rings were serenading me and I entered my food induced state of oblivion.  It was only me and the onion rings and maybe my garden burger from the moment they landed on our table.  My head was in the trough and I was happy.

I didn’t notice the group of young males stalking our table.  I was blissfully unaware of the frequent pass bys and testosterone filled grunts.  I had my onion rings. I was complete.

My beautiful daughter jolted me to her reality with this statement,

“Mom, that table of guys over there keeps staring this way and pointing.”

Then Mr. Pavlov, who was seated right next to her (we had a LARGE booth and he was in the middle of Uno and Dos) replied,

“The one keeps walking by like he stole something!”

Dos, also in awareness mode added,

“Yea, he seems twitchy!”

With fried onion ring crumbs hanging from my mouth I replied,

“Are they staring at you and walking by to see you?”  

Smiling, she glanced over her right shoulder to where an ancient couple was sitting dutifully cutting each other’s blueberry pancakes and replied “W e l l……” 

Wow.  How did I miss this?  I am always on it and my guydar remains in a constant and finely tuned state.  My daughter is a cutie and boys know it!  But before I could wipe away the onion ring crumbs from my mouth and ponder my failure we received visitors….

Two “scruffies” as Dos called them interrupted my our feeding frenzy. Clearing their throats they ventured:

“Excuse me….uh, er, well my friend over there…the one in the corner…well, ah, he wants us to give you this (handing my beautiful baby a folded piece of white paper).  He thinks you’re, um, cute.  It’s his…ah, number and um, well, he wants you to call him.”

The beauty, Uno, smiled and said one simple word…O K A Y.  Mr. Pavlov glared and echoed Uno’s OKAY only in a much more menacing tone.  I finally wiped away my crumb residue and entered the here and now as I watched them walk away giving each other high fives and fist pumping the air.  The “Corner Guy” remained standing in the corner stalking observing Uno and her response.  I believed it was the intimidating glares and peacock posturing of Mr. Pavlov that drove him from the corner and sent him back to his seat with his friends until…..

….we were getting ready to leave when the brazen little punk decided to approach our table himself!   With Mr. Pavlov standing and peacock posturing beside him, he apologized for the behavior of his friends and in front of her entire family, asked our beauty to call him.  Mr. Pavlov gave a nod, the type of nod that says “Boy, you better move while you have the chance” and said,

“Let’s go!”

Corner guy finally retreated without the committment from Uno he wanted.  I guess I was somewhat high on my recent ingestion and wasn’t thinking clearly.  Feeling all warm and fuzzy from the fried food I heard myself call after him,

“You have good taste!”

He smiled.

Uno chuckled and replied,

“Good one Mom, but at least you didn’t threaten him with statutory rape this time!

Now that I am clear in the head and have given the scenario some thought I must ask, can you believe the boldness?  Maybe I am old school but boys would never approach a young girl in the presence of her family especially with her father seated right beside her.  Am I old school?  Is this the progressive style of the youth today?  I don’t like it.  Do you?

The youth of today are bold and daring.  I think the genetically altered, steroid laced food we consume has pumped them up and left them…

…teetering the crazy line!

Some views are better than others

The Holiday season is [crashing] upon us.  Tis the time of year when we get together with family and friends to enjoy a little bit of laughter, socializing, and drinking.  But wait, there’s one more element….the bonding glue of every social event….(key the heavenly choir)…FOOD!

What do you mean ONE per person?!?

I am continuously amazed at my ability to shovel more calories into the hole underneath  my nose during this time of year than the entire calendar year combined!  So it should come as no surprise when my Ann Taylors begin to get snuggish (one of my many made up words) around the waist.  But I am always shocked to feel my newly formed Holiday muffin top.   “Hmm, now how did that get there?” is the question I find myself asking in total surprise each year.  Initially, I suck it (as in the buldge) in until sucking it in no longer works.  Then I resort to bed gymnastics, contortions and daring physical feats all aimed at maneuvering my flesh mound into the desired outfit.  If I can mold myself into the clothing without passing out or popping off a button, then it is deemed a success.  Who cares if I have to walk like a robot all day, laugh gently and sit gingerly with extreme care…It Was A Success!!! My Ann Taylors Are ON MY Body! 

My Holiday muffin top

 
Eventually, an intervention must occur and it usually comes months later in the form of physical torture.  It only makes sense that after months of shoving unlimited amounts of  food in, it is going to take some sweat and massive physical pain to burn it off.  Darn you late 30’s metabolism! 
 
Enter the gym.
 
I’m sure all of us have been to the gym at some point in our lives right?  We’ve all see the sights…the people and their bodies in various forms of aerobic splendor -some of which are more visually [blinding] traumatic than others.  The smells.  I’ll let the period be a period at the end of the smells.  The grunts, gasps, groans, convulsions, spasms and general gym noise. Ahhhh, now this is the atmosphere of burning calories. 
 
And yes, while there is nothing quite like the gym experience, I have chosen to eradicate my muffin top in my home with my precious elliptical gym.  You see, home is where I can sweat, stink, become a partial exhibitionist, grunt and groan in my private nirvana.                                                                                                                               
Well, semi-private because of the kids and their tendency to get grossed out easily.  Not that I am concerned with my candid ability to cause their stomachs to churn but I am bothered by the fact that they will repeat the incident to every stranger within ear shot for days, months and years to come.  AND usually at the most inopportune time like when I am meeting the parents of their school friends.  It is during this crucial time of introduction(s) that my darlings will belt “This is my mom and she drips sweat from her belly button!”  Nice.  Just what these parents wanted to know about me and my belly button.   But even given the situation of my privacy being held hostage by kids with diarrhea of the mouth, I am still opting for my home gym.
 
And besides, where else do you get a view of those suffering along side you quite. like. this???  Taken while I was moving out on my elliptical hence, the blur.
I’m suffering so why are you taking my picture? You sick, sick sadist!
 
AHAHHHAA!  Let the home gym experience begin, yet again!  Ann Taylor: be prepared to fit beautifully on my bod.