Monday, April 26, 2010


Since marrying a man who loves to eat, the chef in me has emerged. Being single meant my meals were mostly made up of raisin bran cereal or canned green beans with garlic powder, no need to cook an entrée, side and dessert for one, but now I’m a regular Paula Dean.
Know what else has emerged? An extra 25 pounds. Yikes.

It’s not simply the change in diet, but my exercise routine has changed dramatically in the last 18 months. I used to run, visit the gym where I held a membership and I was an avid hiker. In the winters, I cross country skied with my dog. I’ve got a knee injury now that leaves me popping pain meds and wearing a big blue knee brace that makes me look uber-sexy.

So the thing is, I am not skinny but I’m not morbidly obese either. I’m somewhere in the middle, with a few extra pounds around my middle (Why can’t move UP my body a little… Like, to say, my boob area?). I may have some chub, but I take care of myself; I dress nicely and make sure my hair and makeup are done before I leave the house.

Remember I said we were going to St. Louis? Well, by the time hubby and I reached the area where he was going to camp with his friends on Friday night it was past 10 o’clock, I’d been up since 4:30 that morning and we’d been driving for 7 hours. To top it off, we’d had to run a few last minute errands, which meant walking around multiple parking lots in the pouring rain. I wasn’t looking my snazziest, but I couldn’t believe what happened when we pulled up and I got out of the car to help unload.

(Let me mention real quick that the “men” I will refer to now are NOT hubby’s buddies. They are acquaintances of hubby’s buddies. Hubby’s buddies are good guys, and I enjoy seeing them.)

Since this was a guys’ drinking night, I wasn’t entirely shocked or horrified when the comments started, “Hey, we got some PU$$Y here,” made me embarrassed, but I quickly went to infuriated when they started MOOING at me. Yes, mooing.

Hubby didn’t hear any of this going on, he was catching up with his friend, finding out which tent to put his stuff in, etc. If he had heard it, A$$ES would have been kicked.

I thought about kicking some A$$ myself (And since I’m such a large girl, I probably could have, right?), I thought about exchanging some words, or maybe a good old middle finger. But in the end, I decided to not even turn to look at them, I held my head high, helped unload a few things, and cheerfully wished hubby’s friends a good time before I left.

I then cried the whole way to 7-11 to purchase some Jalapeño and cream cheese taquitos, because, OMG those are dee-lish. Yes, I probably should have gone and thrown up anything I had eaten that day. I should have done 100 crunches and another 100 sit ups. But hey, that’s not nearly as comforting. Sadly, just when I thought my night was at rock bottom, the 7-11 clerk informed me that they pulled that flavor of taquitos from the shelves mere weeks ago. Since those are the only ones I liked (Loved, actually. Those things were freakin’ amazing), I got back in the car and cried all the way to Wal-Mart where I purchased a 6 pack of Sangria.

Note: Don’t ever, ever buy Sangria in a 6-pack. Especially from Wal-Mart…

I told hubby later about the guys. He said he wished he’d heard them, he wished he could have done something, he was furious. He told me I’m beautiful, he told me he loves me and he told me he wouldn’t change a single thing about me. Maybe he’s lying, but I choose to believe he was telling the truth. I have such a wonderful hubby.

Will I work harder now to get back in shape? Probably. Will I let the mooing get to me? Truthfully: probably.

This makes me think of scene from the movie “Weather Man” where a little girl and her father, out clothes shopping, are having a conversation about comments from her classmates, calling her camel toe (If you don’t get this reference, Google it). Dad asks why she thinks they call her this:
She answers:

“ Because, camel toes are tough. They can walk all over the desert and all the hot rocks. I'm tough. “

Cows are my favorite animals anyway, and who doesn’t like a good NY Strip Steak (Except me. I’m a vegetarian)? They probably meant it as a compliment. Thanks, boys! :-)

1 comment:

  1. Oh, really uncool! I am mortified that they behaved this way. Seriously? You're not making this up? Good gawd! It's hard to think what I would have done. Probably the same thing. Avoid looking at them, get in the car as fast as possible, don't start crying until they're out of sight, and stuff my face silly.

    Hubby does tell me that men are way harsh with each other. Hubby also knows I don't do teasing. I have no sense of humor, that I'm aware of. He has told me I would never survive as a male, so it's a good thing I'm female. I agree.


Do I need to be liked? Absolutely not. I like to be liked. I enjoy being liked. I have to be liked. But it's not like this, compulsive, need, to be liked. Like my need to be praised. - Michael Scott, "The Office"

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