Thursday, October 06, 2005

Caloric, Euphoric, Alas Poor Yorick

I forgot to mention that We Are On A Diet.

Viva, of course, is not, although since her tastes run to fresh fruit and veggies, yogurt smoothies, rice milk, whole wheat toast, and cheese of any variety, she eats pretty healthily anyway. She does have a weakness, and it is known as FWIES. If we are out in the car and drive by the Golden Arches, it is ON. Here in California, a small order of McDonald's fries costs $1.08. I know this, and I always have exact change at the drive-thru window. For those of you collecting evidence of my madness, there you go.

Anyhoo, it was Sweet William's decision to stop eating dinner. This has simplified my life immensely, since now I just have to make sure I have something for Viva to eat, and I can happily have an apple and some tortilla chips and I'm good to go. This has not been too much of a strain for me, since neither of us is a real hardass about it. If one of us occasionally wants ice cream or a cookie, we eat it. No biggie.

However, I was just reading some of my favorite blogs, and I may even start a blogroll at some point (what an empty threat - do you realize how long it took me to clean my carpets?!), and anyway, one of my regulars mentioned cupcakes and brownies in the same post. In the same sentence, even!

This is where Trouble starts. Because this post immediately made it necessary for me to go to the store, and pick up supplies, and bake them into chocolatey goodness, because I don't want storebought brownies. (I'm currently leaning toward brownies with ice cream on top, you know, right out of the oven? Oh, yeah.)

That would be wrong. I know Sweet William would simultaneously want to kill me and kiss me. But you know, neither one of us is overweight. I actually weigh ten to twelve pounds less now than I did before I got pregnant with Viva. No one wants to hear that, but I want to also say that while I did not have a huge ass before I had her, the one I had was kind of cute and round and I was happy with it. The one I have now makes my former ass look like it was on steroids. Why does that happen? My ass kind of slunk off to hide. I blame the breastfeeding. I think it took all of my good fat.

Perhaps some brownies and ice cream will lead my old ass out of hiding, no?

I feel this is a good theory, not one grounded in science, but one which I am prepared to try and substantiate. Mmm, brownies, with a nice juicy rationalization on the side! It doesn't get better than this!

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