kellementology

life according to me

Tag: Food

  • Third Pounders, Slim-Fast & a Stevia Chaser to Go, Please.

    I’ve got food on my brain today. I know you’re currently questioning an image of me with a fried egg on my head or something. Or perhaps wondering if I’ve gone bonkers having decided that if I lay food on my head, then I won’t be able to absorb calories, and will still be able to nourish myself. Condition my hair at the same time as well? Ah….no. I’ve succumbed. I’ve pulled the Slim-Fast from the back of the fridge. And worse? I’ve cracked open a jar of 100% Pure Stevia for my coffee this morning. And fat-free Coffee Mate. Blech. Seriously.

    So that means I’ve consumed any number of barely pronounceable “ingredients,” and “minerals” this morning. *sigh* How I miss my Kashi and blueberries. And what the hell is Stevia, anyway? I saw it at Trader Joe’s, thought about it for two whole seconds and threw it in my basket right before vacation. Past experience has proven that no matter how much I have walked, or as in the case this year, swam and paddled a kayak, I return blimplike. A veritable dumpling just missing the gravy. A chubbette. Or phattissima. Have I made my point?

    Retrospectively, I did not pork out on our vacation:

    Chicken and Sausage Kabobs with Rice and a salad. Not big portions. Roasted veggies, mushrooms….YUM. Oh, but the MoH made Banana pancakes the next morning. Yes, and he drove them to the beach slathered in butter and “lite” syrup where my VBF and I were staked out with lounge chairs and building our compound at 8AM.

    Then Grilled Tri-Tip, Roasted potatoes, and salad. Again, not big portions. Oh. But there were lovely berries and cream with chocolate chip merengues. Meringues don’t have calories, right? And berries are loaded with antioxidants. So there was only a plop of cream. Not too bad.

    But there was breakfast again the next day. But then there were those grilled pork chops and quinoa salad with grilled bread. And pancakes and waffles the next morning. Oh my gawd, and then that pasta the last night with grilled sausage, chicken, veggies….And that baked blueberry crisp. With vanilla ice cream. Y-U-M.

    Of course, I consumed absolutely no wine the entire time. Don’t blink or you’ll miss those low flying pigs…

    Okay, so does no lunch every single day count for anything? Jeez. What am I supposed to do, starve myself?

    Um…so on the way home we stopped at Mickey D’s. I just had to try one of those new angus Boi-gahz. Had. To.

    Lunch on the Road What? You can’t see it quite clearly?

    Boi-gah It actually tasted like a real hamburger. For the first time ever. And I don’t want to hear anything about Fast Food Nation, okay? Gimmeabreak. I’m not a Fast Food Frequent Flyer and I eat my grains and veggies regularly, okay? So no surprise that I’m not a vegetarian, but I have read recently that vegetarians are eating more meat… Just not Mickey D’s.

    So how many calories could be in one hamburger? Huh? Uh, according to this source, only about 800. Uh, approximately three Lean Cuisine frozen entrees. That’s three lunches. No, I’m not checking on the fries. Or the Sprite. So probably four lunches.

    My Slim-Fast has 190 calories. The Stevia zip.

    Whatever.

    Tomorrow I have to deal with the Thinner Bitch, that heartless, cold, slab of worthless metal and springs that I may launch across the street if she gives me any grief in the morning.

    Thinner Bitch

  • Fridays

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Fridays are for appreciating that the next two days are special — unless you work, which is too bad. Really. They’re for enjoying the sunshine streaming through my clean — well, sort of clean, but streaked windows, and straightening the house — unless you have a housekeeper, which makes you one up. Fridays are for knowing that you’ve made it through another week, and have most likely not accomplished anything significant. And if you did, well pat yourself on the back, because there’s usually no one standing in line to congratulate you, even though they should. Fridays are for having good friends over to eat exceptional food, drink wine, and talk some serious smack about things that don’t matter to anyone but us. Everything will be solved by the time we’re done. No one will ever have to worry about anything again. Until next Friday.

    So tonight, I’m the hostess with the mostest. Although I can do a knock down drag out job in the kitchen to prepare for these end of the week extravaganzas, I’ve never been able to manage making myself look as good as the food. In fact it’s likely that I’m wearing parts of the menu even as my guests arrive, but no one ever comments about it. You know — like having spinach in your teeth? They’ve also never commented on whether they’ve opened the closets and cupboards I’ve thrown stuff in to give the illusion that my house is tastefully kept. Or mentioned that the couch smells a bit strange near that spot the doggo compulsively licks.

    But today, I’m ahead of the game. In fact, my roots are done, so no one will recognize me. My hair may actually look pleasant. No pony or clip. Combed. Possibly styled. It will distract the others from noticing what’s lacking in my clothes — so “what not to wear.” Who cares? After all, the food will be very un-dietlike.  Truly the only thing that matters.

    Mmmm…Friday…Cheers!

  • Weigh-In Methodology: 101

     

     

     

     

     

    Well, it was weigh-in Tuesday this morning and I’ll confess to being open minded about the results Thinner had for me. And while I’m on my knees, I have another confession to make. I always weigh on Monday morning so that I’m prepared for Tuesday. How ridiculous is that? You know, like, I might be less morose or on the verge 24 hours later or something.

    Take into consideration the shenanigans that go on with my weighing-in methodology:

    Before beginning, remove heavy items of bed time attire: (slippers, pajama bottoms and sweatshirt)

    1) Gingerly step onto the scale making sure there is no jolt up to the serious hefty range thereby keeping you from finding out that’s how much you really weigh.

    2) Hold onto the bathroom counter or door frame and then gently release after you’ve stepped onto the scale, thereby easing UP to your real weight. Repeat: Lift…and release — like kegels.

    3) Squat on the scale (so you can see it without having to get your glasses) and try to balance long enough to see which line you are on before falling backwards onto the tile.

    4) After getting back on the scale, do a few little knee bends in rapid succession to jiggle the scale and see if it gets stuck on a lower number.

    5) Take a flying leap onto the scale to see if it can be shocked into submission.

    6) Record the final products of all of the above, add them, and divide by five.

    It looks like I can only claim a total six pound loss at this point. It’s hard to tell with my stupid scale. That means I’m still in the two pounds a week range, which is what I’m shooting for on the Phoodplan. Nothing exhilarating–just satisfying. I know some of you are still saying, “Why bother?” and I’m remembering that old tale about the Tortoise and the Hare. I’ll get there slowly but surely and pay attention to the non-numerical benefits of weight loss I’m learning:

    • Large cotton unmentionables fit a bit better in stretchy jeans now;
    • My knees don’t ache as much climbing the stairs to the office;
    • When pounding the streets, my shins no longer burn in agony;
    • Four miles + 45 minutes = sweat like a hog
    • I have duped myself into thinking that 3 orange or cherry-flavored prunes are candy and savor their juicy sweetness nightly;
    • A 2 oz. shot of red wine in lime-flavored mineral water tastes absolutely disgusting; and
    • If you add orange juice to this, the taste improves, but what’s the point because the whole concept is pathetic. And yes, I drank the whole glass.

    Have I strayed from the Phoodplan? Not too badly. I have walked an average of five days each week (not seven) and have walked about 40 miles in three weeks!

    I drink two cups of coffee (not one) and I’m feeling that caffeine buzz daily as I merrily update my blogs.

    Portion control is going well, but it’s challenging to fit all that pasta in that small bowl unless I mash it with the back of a wooden spoon.

    Wine on the weekends has been more than two 4 oz. glasses on two days — but not horrifically more (we haven’t resorted to straws in bottles again, yet).

    And there will be more partying in Paradise this weekend for Easter. I haven’t figured out what Jesus has to do with parties and drinking wine…Oh, wait…“Bless me Jesus for I have sinned…” but know that it will be consumed, making it easier to filter out the crying baby and howling toddlers in our extended family. “Help me, Je-sus, Help me!”

    Trick.