Tuesday, December 22, 2015

Merry Christmas!

May the magic and joy of Christmas peace embrace you and yours....


Thursday, September 24, 2015

Jeremiah Was A Bully Frog

It's really hard to gauge which hardships in life shape us in a positive or negative direction. Did I get bullied? Sure. Did I bully people? Sure. I remember some of the incidents so I guess they stay with you in that respect. However, I think all of the events made me stronger or learned me a lesson.



Never in those dark moments or despair did I think life was over or become disconnected. I had a strong family structure and after short periods of time, those issues dissolved. Sometimes I changed my behavior because of them and sometimes I took it in stride. Many times I had my feelings hurt. But I got over it. And when I was the bully, I think I felt bursts of power or accomplishment that I squashed something or someone. That is unfortunate. People suck sometimes, but we are human and to be human is to err.

It's different through the looking glass as an adult. If your child is the brunt of the words, it really hits you in right the feelers.

This week has been difficult.

My relationship with my daughter in the teenager stage is a struggle. I am taming the beast inside me when she pushes my buttons by gritting my teeth and breathing big gulps of air before my ninja reflex skills send her to the next planet. It's really the first urge to curb back talking and sass. At least it's my first urge. It is my hot button.

Despite all that, she is a really good kid. She works hard in school and sports. She just sasses the mother which creates THE MOMSTER. It happens. I hate the conflict. NOT because I don't like conflict...but because teenagers should be respectful and when naught...I get fuming pissed. I don't like myself like that.

But...what's worse?

When your kid gets bullied and it hurts your heart. Like hits you right...there.



This week two incidents happened at school. She sat next to a girl in the cafeteria with her lunch and the girl and her friends left the table to sit elsewhere. Then, in the gym, she sat next to one of her friends and a group of girls left. Her friend told her they didn't like her because she is pretty and dresses nice. Well poop shit. How do you answer that?

My cute Bug


I told her she couldn't make people like her. I told her to be kind. I said she is beautiful and they are jealous. Wait until they meet THE MOMSTER. Not really. It just is my first instinct...protect your young. But I will not interfere in this one and let my daughter sort it out.

Bitches. Girls are mean.

Thursday, July 16, 2015

Sugar Belly

Except for diseases and hormonal issues, my doctor said MOST OFTEN, not always, our metabolism slows down or stops from too much sugar, processsed food, preservatives, and additives. It's a breakdown in our innards. Consquently, it affects brain function as well and leads to depression, auto-immune diseases, and metabolic syndromes. It doesn't even have to be A LOT of those items being inputted into our bodies. It just depends on how it reacts.

It is no secret I contracted asthma from a meth lab house and incident on a raid. No I was not a drug addict, I was a cop.

A long time ago (2002) I had purchased a book on asthma which included information on foods and beverages which affected breathing. Sounds crazy, doesn't it? Not really after you understand how food works. Well, I discussed it with my doctor in Denver who is the best respiratory doc in the world. No kidding. There are awards to prove it. She said absolutely. So here are some breathing tips:

1. Lots of water.
2. Caffinated coffee or tea (is there any other kind?)
3. Fresh uncooked green vegetables.
4. Apples

What makes breathing slow down? Things with sulfides, additives, preservatives, sugars, chemical ingredients, pastas,  and some grains. Weird, huh? Not really. It makes sense now.

I'm used to it. And because I was a non-believer of all this mish mash I tested all of it. Guess what? Duh. Doctors were right. I guess they do know something.

It's true I have been an exercise freak for quite some time and kept my manic routines up during all of this but nothing was progressing. Last fall, I had 6 months of almost nada because of my broken neck and rotator cuff issue as well. I was a miserable human being inside and out. And in denial on top of it. It is hell getting old. Bastards never told us any of this shit was going to happen.

I don't take Geratol nor any other vitamins. Nor do I need Metamucil. Maybe I could use some Ben Gay once in a while after running, but I opt for a hot pack.

I do have to supplement this regimented plan with the B-12 shots from the doctor.

So when doctor number 2 tells me I need to go all organic, I did not question this. I jumped on that pony.



Since March 20, I have lost 33 pounds and have not used my emergency inhaler. Hmm. Crazy. I packed in those pounds eating poor man's food when I was unemployed which led to a cycle I couldn't get out of nor set aside.  Plus processed foods are cheap and you would think the opposite.

I'm pretty embarassed to tell you all that.

Was I shoving sugar down my throat by massive buckets of ice cream? NO. But did you know SUGAR is in everything. It is. Read your ingredients. And if you don't know the chemical by products or other names sugar goes by, you might miss it. Scary stuff.

They put crack in our food so we buy more.

Oh yeah. I check everything. No one wants to shop or live with me. I am strict and dedicated.

Once in a while I slip a little just to show myself  NOT to do that.

Even Cadbury Creme Eggs sound gross. Crazy. I know, right?

If you keep up with the Kardashians, you would see my new pics on Facebook. I look a lot better. I feel a lot better. Old me returneth. Fuck that unhealthy nonsense. It sucked.

I have totally eliminated sugars and almost all pastas. Rarely do I eat bread and I have already mentioned what kind I buy. Funny thing is I am not as hungry. I don't crave sweets. I have energy. In a few months I get my chemistry done again to see if anything has changed. I am still fighting with Vitamin D, B12, and iron levels. Plus for some reason my protein is low despite all the protein I consume.

All this is boring to you I am sure.

So what happened today to spark this post?

Our students have graduated and it's their last day in the office. What better way to celebrate than to eat cake? Duh. I did not buy it. The bosses bought this lucious white cake with the butter cream frosting from a great bakery in town. I'm sure the frosting is made out of lard.

Well.

I had to have a piece.

I thought one little piece will be fine.

Ugh.

I had two little pieces which were a little cake with a lotta frosting.

I am now sick.

I told you so.

Here's a cute baby bat picture so you can say you at least got something out of these confessions of a Sugar Belly.






Friday, June 5, 2015

Theory Of Everything

The secret to shedding unwanted pounds is apples and lots of water. Zip, zip. Poot, poot. It makes for some green poop and butt explosions if you eat too many green apples. I think this is what the Queen meant to do to Snow White but fucked it all up. If she had just overfed her apples, Snow White would not have been girlfriend material for the prince because she was in the toidy all the time and wreaked. It would have totally ruined her life.



I like all apples, so I have a tendency to mix it up. Not just green ones. But they carry the most butt explosions, just so you know. And if you add in some coffee...GANGWAY!

Do not eat these all at once:



Free information. It's the Internet way. Well, only if you are surfing free Wi-Fi services like at Starbucks, otherwise, you pay for it. You're welcome.



These two items, apples and lots of water, have been keeping me honest and away from bad snacks. I don't crave sugar very often and when I do, I don't eat the whole cake. It's better to sneak just a small bite or perhaps have a Starbucks latte...small. It comes right back out if you eat an apple and thus, no calories or sugar absorbed. Win-win!

BTW...Starbucks names their drink sizes in Italian. They are called "tall" drinks, but they are really short. Those Italians have a funny way with words. Foolers. So funny.

My overuse injuries are getting better since I took 4 days off to heal. That might explain why I have had a slow start this week. Now, we are entering a contest at work and I must win. The first prize is $100. It is no easy task. We have super athletes at the college. For a short time right now, I am in the lead. This usually lasts until the middle of the month, when the marathoners get a race in. For right now, "Carlos, eat my dust." Go me!

Carlos is a maniac when it comes to steps on his Fitbit. However, I'm really worried about Joshua. He is competitive and will probably put in a few extra runs at lightning speed just to make the kill.  Plus he is getting into marathons. I'm a baby. Baby races at 10Ks. See how that works? We can't be slouchers. The system keeps us motivated and honest. Not that we wouldn't be honest without the device, but motivatage might slip a time or two. No way if it is there for all to see. It's like standing in the square naked. You had better not have a slouched on your abs or be sporting your cottage cheese legs around. I refrain from public nudity. People can thank me for that.

So what does your Fitbit say? How many steps?

I was in a funk at first and averaged about 6,000-7,000. The secret was to get my fat butt off the chair. I started walking at lunch. I later added in running after work. See, I go straight to the gym so I can't make any excuse for weather issues. At night, three times a week, I run outside as well. Whew. Gotta get race ready.

Last night the humidity was thick. The fireflies were nice, but they were flying so slow I almost swallowed a few. Perhaps they were having a hard time in the fog of condensation as I was. When they are not a blur of light, they are a strange looking bug and kind of creepy, but since they are the only being on earth I know who can light their butt on fire with fantastic flare and fly around to light up the sky, I let it slide. Well, besides a Jack Ass (the movies) cast member.


Well, and we do torture them by putting them in jars and watching them in awe. Poor things.



This summer has been the first time I have noticed the humidity being so thick and relentless. Oy. It makes for bad hair and hard running. This should not be confused with running with a hard on, but means difficult. I understand both issues would be difficult because I have heard it is hard to run with a hard on, but I wouldn't know. I've seen it before, tho. It's kind of funny... but not for the man. Sorry, mom.

Last night, my feet felt like cement blocks. I also found my shoes with 749 miles on them have broken down inside and lucky for me I have a super clearance pair (last year's last year's model)  in the closet which are new. So, my new favorite shoes are now going to be my "sneakers." That's what I call the shoes you retire and make your weekend run around town shoes or garden beauties. Sad shame. I wish they would last longer. But then the shoe companies would not make any money.

I am certain this is their (manufacturer's) ploy on everything. Nothing lasts like it used to so we have to buy more and support those yacht owning CEOs. What happened to the trickle down theory? I would just settle for a canoe or a kayak. Perhaps that is not what is meant by that premise. I don't know why they invent theories if we don't use them. Bastards.

My summer is about to get lonely as Bug sets off to Wyoming to visit her dad. Poop. Shit.

I guess I will build muscles while scraping siding and painting the Harry Potter House. It might take me three years to get this project done, but it will happen. It's a labor of love. Just like having a baby, but it doesn't hurt in the vagina.






Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Kale! Kale! The Gang's All Here!

I have opted for spinach. Why?

Because putting chard and kale in my salad sounds so uptown and I'm a downtown kind of girl.

Besides, the names sound like toxic waste. At least everyone can associate spinach with Popeye and strong arms which overshadow the rest of your body.


Here's my arm:


Yep. That's me with a little help from some anonymous bicep model on Pinterest.

Additionally, chard and kale are more expensive. It's because they are "in". When they go out, they will be worthless. I used to be more expensive on K Street when I was "in" than I am now on Main Street. Most people think I am a mother looking for their lost daughter who became a prostitute. They're like: "she ain't here, woman. Go somewhere else. You mucking up our business. " I tell them, "I'm working here, you slouch."

Not really.

I think chard and kale are just a fad anyway.

Most people who eat are snobs and put it on their Facebook page like every day.

I asked my doctor about the "magic" of kale. You know what she said? They're just another leafy green vegetable. We didn't tell the kale followers because the kale farmers would suffer and all those who thought miracles struck their bodies from choking down kale smoothies would surely die right there in the street. I didn't want to be responsible.

And kale chips. Really? Give me a break. Throw me that sack of potatoes.

Yeah. I use kale as an garnish for my big fat juicy steak.

Yep. Super appetizing. Check this out. It looks like Popeye threw up on my greens:



You can't tell me to dry up those shrivelled little leaves and add salt, maybe some olive oil and you have the magic snack? Bullshit. You got crunchy seaweed. And you need a pitchfork to get that out of your teeth. It's really a bother.

I'm pretty sure I read it will make your butt plump and firm like JLo's, your hair silky, your mouth froth,  and your skin glow like moonlit sand on a sweet summer night on the beach on Bite My Ass Island. I also want to tell you that you will be surrounded by Shemar Moore, Ryan Gosling, Dwayne Johnson, Channing Tatum, Michael Ealy, and Sean Connery. All naked. Except Sean. He will be wearing a kilt.

Yeah.

So eat kale.

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

The Warrior Mindset: Ninja-ing Out The Shenanigans

"You are the reason our family is this way. You make my relationship with my dad the way it is. It is your fault my dad doesn't love me. It's your fault he loves his step-daughters more than me."

I just stood there, not saying a thing until she was done. It went on as did her tears. When the sobbing consumed her, all I could muster was, "I love you."

Bug countered back with "no you don't" and "my dad doesn't love me because of you" and on and on and on. After a while, I just walked away.

Later she came up to me and said she was sorry, she shouldn't have said that. What do you say to your 14 year old when she just pretty much cut your heart in two? I told her if that is how she really feels, then she needs to get it out and we need to talk about it. I added I was sorry she felt that way. Again, I told her I loved her.

In my mind, I was thinking, WTF..."your dad cheated on me and told me he wanted a divorce on my birthday, while standing over me, and he had been 'practicing' sex with me in the last months to make sure he was 'good enough' for his new girlfriend"...although I didn't say it out loud. Yeah, like I was practice sex. Take that. Why is it a bad idea to say the truth of the matter to your teenager?

1) It would have devastated her. 2) Her parents didn't have sex...at least in her mind because that is gross...daughter denial. We got her at a baby store. 3) I made a vow for Lent to stop saying the f bomb which would have been interjected in that story out of reflex. God really trumped my thoughts of daughter devastation because I was really hurt and wanted to lash out as a natural bitch reaction. Gotta contain the bitch in me sometimes, especially for my daughter's sake. 4) It is REALLY BAD to say such things in front of children even if it is the truth. They then need years of therapy and it is all your fault because you were the ugly momster even if it appears to be the fault of the father. After all, I did not sleep with my friend's wife and carry on in a uniform whilst supposed to be protecting the lake residents. I'm over it. Well, for myself, but it still plagues my daughter and it is an embarrassment to her.

For some odd reason during this princess outburst, I had this calm resolve as she sliced and diced her mother and then handed me my head on a platter. It was serial killer creepy calm minus the killing thoughts. Maybe now I know why mice eat their young. Not really. That is really disturbing and no thank you.

Maybe it was because we had just gotten home from Jujitsu and I felt a little Yoda combined with my ninja warrior spirits which kicked in and saved me from epic mother failure.



Who knows? Maybe my brain disconnected for a minute and I was on a white sand beach with Alejandro.  It must have been a coping mechanism to prevent the daggers from hitting my heart. Teenagers can do it...check out...why not me? They are good at pushing buttons as well.

I kissed her forehead and went to bed. It was all I could do as my presence was agitating her inner Sybil.

When I hit the pillow, I was out. It was maybe an hour later when I had to get out of bed and take Moose pee outside which was -10 but felt like Antarctica's asshole which was probably -45.

Ugh.

I had just gotten to sleep when I felt this big nose staring me down.
It was like this only at my bedside.
And so we went downstairs. Bug was still up, of course, and again apologized. I told her to hold that thought because Moose was about to pee himself which ultimately would become my problem, not his. After freezing my face off...I came back to my daughter's permanent position on the couch. She again apologized and asked me why I didn't hate her.

"Well, honey, I could never hate you, you are my child. Sometimes I don't like how you behave and when you hurt it hurts me. I will always love you."

"But, mom, why didn't you yell at me when I was evil?"

"What good would that have done? Besides, you never know when one of us would get hit by a bus and then all you would remember was how bad the last moment was when they were alive."

"I know, mom. And my bus driver is dangerous. She drives fast on ice and turns corners over snow drifts and makes us pukey. She is seriously bad. She is going to kill us. Every day I fear for my life and that I won't see you again."

Yeah.

The dots connect even if they go to grandmother's house, through the woods, and over the hill first.

I think.

Life returned to normal in the morning when Murphy took toilet paper rolls about the entire house while I was in the shower. Bad dog. Bad dog.
Artistic dramatization
#momsterlife





Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Princess Diaries

Shopping with a teenager is about at the same level as getting waterboarded in a dark room full of CIA agents. But, as mothers, we must endure the anguish, the torture, and the bliss of making our daughters feel like Princesses. Who was the person to push us to this level of insanity? Who decided all daughters must be treated like Princesses? I am not sure, but later I must Google it.

Rarely does the father partake in these festivities. Why? He lives miles away. If I had one with me, I would make him go. So I have to be the mother and the father during these events for the Princess.

Her father helped with the dress because I asked and what do you know...he thought it was OK. NO, I don't have child support this month, but Bug gets her dress. I think he believes I make money on the meager amount and refused to participate in my hobby: raising his daughter. It makes sense in my mind. Where did I park my Mercedes?

Oh, yeah. At the mall. It was disguised as a 2005 Chevy Malibu.

The outing started out as me being excited to make my girl dressed in pizzazz (on a budget) for her Sweetheart Dance this weekend. I am all about class and glamour on a beer budget. Luckily in her size 0, it is easy. There are many selections left in the NO ONE IS THIS SIZE size.

She is very picky and tries on everything until she feels pretty. It takes a village. Of dresses. I encouraged her to try on things which maybe didn't appeal to her off the hanger, but would be beautiful on and she agreed. Some of them were wonderful and classy. She didn't pick out one slut dress or anything which I felt was too old for her. For this, I was proud.

We went to several stores. Some of them were drive-bys. A drive by is you look in the window and see if they have fancy dance your pants off dresses for teens and if the answer is "nope"...drive on by. Next store. She was discouraged and went on and on how she was ugly and fat and no one asked her to the dance. She does not do this because she wants my attention. She really feels like this. It kills me. She is the most beautiful child and she has a good heart. She does have teenager hormones which drive me to hell and back, but she is a good kid. Do other moms experience this self-esteem issue? I don't know. I just know I don't understand where it comes from.

At the last store, I told her if she didn't find the dress which was just right, we could look the next day in another part of town. She perked up a little bit at the thought the pressure was off and she had other options. We tried on about 5 more at the last shop with no luck. I told her we should make another round and see if we missed something. She agreed.

As she rounded a tall display of longer dresses, she looked up and her eyes sparkled.

"Mom, look. It is beautiful. It is in the budget. Can I try it on?"

Of course I said yes. It was beautiful and classy...just the way I like them. And pink. I love pink. Nothing says princess like pink and it was her favorite color as a toddler. She always grabbed pink things.

It just so happened, it was perfect. Her eyes lit up.

"I feel pretty, Mom."

Photo credit: JcPenny's..although this cutie patootie is adorable, this is not my child. 
"Good. And you don't need a date. You need to feel pretty and go have fun with your friends."

"Yeah. It's Ok. I will have fun. I will look pretty, don't you think?"

"Absolutely."

What more could a mom ask for than to see her daughter's eyes light up when she found the right dress. I do have a suggestion. I guess it was not a rhetorical question. Well, maybe one of these shops could serve the moms wine while they waited and watched the pile of no dresses accumulate until the yes dress was located. Just a thought.