Grape Scott! (A Revelation)

Instead of eating this delicious Butterfinger, I was
consuming mass quantities of grapes!

So, I had an interesting weight loss event occur last week. I had gone up several pounds due to issues associated with the snack cart, and I had finally hit a point where I had decided to make a change. At that point I decided that I would not eat any of my extra weekly Weight Watchers points, and that I would swear off desserts and all other sweets. It was a tough proposition, but I was doing a great job! I was eating grapes instead of all manner of other snacks, including items from the snack cart and various sweets. And boy, did I eat grapes!

I ate grapes anytime I so much as looked at the snack cart, the shiny outside of the Doritos bag reflecting my longing countenance back to me. I ate grapes anytime I thought of chocolate, which was often. (You know how conventional wisdom holds that men think about sex many times each day? Well, I think about chocolate at least that often.) Plus, whenever I would typically want to scarf down a bag of honey mustard pretzels, or a king size Butterfinger out of emotional frustration or boredom, well, now I would just inhale mountains of grapes! You might think my grape consumption sounds excessive, but I was all set, because on Weight Watchers grapes are a free food.

I have mentioned free foods on Weight Watchers before in this post and, as their name implies, they are a glorious thing! The name alone creates excitement in me. After all, who doesn’t love getting something for free? Free foods on Weight Watchers are foods that have zero points values, which means that you can eat as much as you want of them without incurring any damage to your weekly plan. I was riding high, because I was not eating any of my extra weekly points, I was eating as many grapes as I wanted, and I was on my way to quick weight loss. Everything was perfect, right? Wrong!

When I weighed in at the end of the week, I actually found that I had gained back all of the weight I had lost the week before. During the prior week, I had lain off all of the extra foods, but not consumed any grapes, and I had adopted my grape regimen due to the hunger I had felt during that week. The upside of being hungry so often was that I lost six pounds during that week. Well, last week I gained all six of those pounds back! I felt devastated, forlorn, despondent, and a host of other thesaurus-worthy words. How could I have gained that weight back? I had done everything right!

Now, you may not believe me here, but the fact that my weight gain might have had something to do with my grape consumption did not even occur to me until halfway through the week. Remember, grapes are a free food, which means they are zero points, which means that eating them is like swallowing air (at least that was my mindset.) Sitting at my desk at work last Thursday, it suddenly dawned on me that grapes have calories. I thought back to what my mom had told me about grapes several weeks earlier—that they have two calories per grape. I quickly typed “calories in grapes” into Google, and the screen confirmed this fact for me. My brain really got to working then!

“So,” I thought, “If each grape has two calories, then if you eat enough grapes, the grapes would have points values on Weight Watchers.” Clearly, my intellect was now functioning at the same level as that of your typical raccoon or opossum!

My thoughts continued. “That means that if I ate a whole bunch of grapes, then they might have had a whole bunch of points!” Clearly, I had reached an Einstein-like level in my thinking about food, and, in that moment, the whole “Weight Watchers free foods” house of cards came tumbling down. In that moment of clarity, I realized what most little kids realize the first time they pick up an item in the grocery store that their moms then refuse to buy them because it is too expensive—nothing in life is free. There are no zero points values foods. Every food, even a two-calorie grape, marks a little tick against my daily points allowance.

It was then that I began to understand that my grapes—my glorious, healthy, calorically nonexistent grapes—just might be responsible for my weight gain. I set about the unpleasant task of figuring out just how many points the quantity of grapes I had consumed during the week would have had, you know, if grapes had points values and all. First I entered the nutrition information for one grape. The Weight Watchers app told me that one grape had zero points, and that it took twelve grapes to equal one point.

I then figured out the approximate number of grapes I ate, and here's where you are going to decide I am a lunatic who should never have access to fruit again. I ate about two Costco containers full of grapes during the week, and each container was—ohmygod—four pounds! I began to wonder how it was possible for one human being to consume that many grapes in a seven-day period and not, you know, get sick or die or something. Using a statistic that told me about how many grapes made up a pound, which I know was accurate because I got it from Google, I then figured out that I ate approximately 700 grapes, which added up to a value of about 30 points.

I, like this fox, was really digging the grapes.

I only get 33 points per day, so, as you can see, it was as though I had eaten an entire day's worth of additional points in the form of fruit. I mean, for that many points I could have had one and a half Gigi’s cupcakes, or a whole bunch of candy corn, or, at the very least, I could have had my grapes in the form of wine. Then I at least I could have claimed inebriation as my reason for not realizing that eating eight pounds of fruit in a week's period means that either I am a lunatic or that I might be turning into a wild forest animal that people will one day write fables about.

So, in summary, I learned a lot from the grape escapade, primarily that eating tons of any food, even a healthy one, will cause weight gain. I also learned that eating a bowling ball's weight in grapes can give you a wicked upset stomach. I hope that you will take my experience as a reminder that nothing in life is free, including fruits, and that you must carefully consider even the most well-intentioned plans, and work to ferret out any possible unintended consequences of your actions. Oh, and don't eat eight pounds of anything. Ever.

Butterfinger image courtesy of http://www.sweetfreestuff.com/free-king-size-butterfinger-at-kum-go/

Fox image courtesy of http://www.witandwisdomstories.com/the-fox-and-the-grapes/

Dating Red Flags

This man is laughing because he heard about all of those
unfortunate men I used to date.

As a veteran dater, and seasoned picker of bad men, I have a lot of experience with red flags—you know those things that pop up with someone you date that should indicate to you that you need to run, not walk, in the opposite direction? Specifically, I have a lot of experience with ignoring red flags. The older, wiser me, though, has made a commitment to myself to not only notice, but to heed red flags as the warning signs that they are. However, in case I don't notice these red flags myself, I have a system in place that echoes the United States government's system of checks and balances. My judgment about whether or not a man is good for me can be overridden by a two-thirds vote by the two other members of my "Dating Cabinet." These two members are my mom, and Jacqueline, my sister-in-law. If they both veto my dating choice, then I have to send him on his way, and just assume that I am blind to whatever issues he has, but that I am saving myself from what has been my most egregious sin: not noticing when a man is crappy. Today, as a public service, I will share with you some red flags I have come across during my years of dating, and I will indicate whether or not I heeded the warning signs and ran in the opposite direction.

Red Flag #1- Making Rude Comments About My Driving

When I was in college I briefly dated a guy named Sean. It was the time when I was first getting into old jazz and swing music, and he and I would go out swing dancing together. One evening, as I was driving us home from somewhere, and I swerved my car a little to avoid something in the road, he made a comment that I was a bad driver, but that this was to be expected, because all women are bad drivers. This comment irritated me a lot, and I thought Sean was a big jackass, plus, I wasn't so totally attracted to him either. Sean got kicked to the curb! Later, when I was no longer dating Sean, I spoke with a friend from my drawing class who had also previously dated him. She told me about the time he had some awful rash and gave it to her (she was a bit of an over sharer) and I was glad all over again that I'd chosen to send him on his way!

Unfortunately, my ex-husband (he-who-must-not-be-named) also told me I was a bad driver. (I promise, I am actually a good driver!) Because he was much more charming and exciting than Sean had been, I actually ignored this red flag rather than recognize it as the unnecessary criticism that it was. I kept him rather than getting rid of him, so for that I get an F on my dating report card!

Red Flag #2 - Smoking Copious Amounts of Marijuana, Being Gay, and Having a Crazy Family

When I was about 22, I dated a guy named Chris. I did not find Chris to be super attractive physically, but I liked his personality (I hadn't yet realized how important being attracted to your dating partner is!). Also, looking back, I am pretty sure he was gay, but just didn't feel comfortable acknowledging the fact to himself at that point in his life. He had a male friend he seemed to have too much of a bromance with, and some of the things he said sometimes also suggested to me that he preferred men. (Although stupid me didn’t notice this at the time!)

Chris also smoked gobs and gobs of marijuana, like, all the time. I mean, he smoked so much that he might have single-handedly been responsible for the livelihoods of half of the members of the Mexican drug cartel in the late nineties. I have never done any drugs, and have never even tried marijuana or cigarettes, so I was not comfortable with his smoking habits. Plus, he was also supremely unmotivated. But, rather than pay attention to my gut, which told me this situation was just not working for me on so many levels, I "dated" Chris for a year. Well, I dated him as much as a straight woman can date a gay man. Then, the craziness of his family was what finally put me off enough to end it. (See, there were many issues here). I had not yet learned that love doesn't conquer all, and continued to make similarly themed bad choices for years afterward. Dating report card grade: F- (Is there a grade below an F-? Because that’s what I deserve!)

Red Flag #3 – Refusing to Introduce Me to a Co-Worker With Whom He’d Had a Fling

This lovely red flag comes courtesy of he-who-must-not-be-named. When I had only been dating him for a month or so I found out that prior to dating me (actually, like, the day before he met me) he had had a one-night adventure with a lady he worked with. Then he started dating me, and told her he wasn’t interested, which is pretty crappy behavior, but at the time it didn’t bother me one bit. I guess I felt like I was special or something, because I got picked over this woman. Now, in the true spirit of sisterhood, I would approach the scorned woman and suggest that we both chase after him with pitchforks and flaming torches.

The jackass then told me that I could never attend any work functions with him because this woman was so upset that he was dating me, because she really, really liked him. To give you a sense of how totally effective the full frontal lobotomy I obviously must have had was—well, I actually thought he must be a considerate person because he cared so much about her feelings. Now I suspect there might have been something going on on the side there, or that he was simply unwilling to apologize to her for his abominable behavior and explain the situation. But, probably both.

Do you ever wish that you could go back in time to observe your life like Ebenezer Scrooge did in A Christmas Carol, only, once you reach a pivotal moment, you could, like, shoot yourself with a spear gun or something, necessitating months and months of rehab, thereby removing you from a bad person or situation? Well, I wish this often when I think of my dating history. If I could have shot myself with that spear gun the moment Old Jackass started spewing the story of how he didn’t want to hurt his co-worker’s feelings, well, believe me, I would have!

Dating Report Card Grade: I- (I figure that we should create a super-low grade below an F for when people do really stupid things, so I have created the grade of I, which stands for idiot.)

I am like the Statue of Liberty for men.

Ladies and gentleman, these are just some of the numerous red flags I have ignored in my life! There are many more, which I am sure I will share with you over time. At this point, knowing what an unfortunate picker of men I am, I am just thankful that I have never seen one of my past boyfriends on the news as a serial killer or something. However, as I said earlier in this post, I am committed to not being an idiot anymore with my dating standards, and I will accomplish this feat by actually having dating standards. My past dating philosophy can best be described by an excerpt of the poem by Emma Lazarus that is engraved at the base of the Statue of Liberty:

...Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me...

While I have not, to my knowledge, ever dated a homeless man, with my previous nonstandards this could easily have happened. Now, I take my new philosophy from the U.S. Armed Forces: Shape up or ship out!

Laughing man image courtesy of http://maxmemories.deviantart.com/art/Dominican-Crazy-Old-Man-172728333

Statue of Liberty image courtesy of http://famous-placez.blogspot.com/2011/07/statue-of-liberty.html

Those Times My Jokes Fell Flat

This leopard is offended that you think he smells
like gasoline.

I like to think I have a pretty good sense of humor. I can laugh at myself and I am able to see the humor in most things in life. And, while I think I can be pretty funny sometimes, I have never considered myself a master of joke telling. I will tell jokes only occasionally, because so much about whether or not a joke is funny depends on the delivery, and I am not the greatest joke deliverer in the world. But, in my younger days, as you will see, I was much more confident about these abilities

The first joke I remember telling was a real classic. It was one that I heard from my cousin, Carribeth—at least I think this joke had its genesis with my cousin. It is such a spectacular joke that I wouldn't dare take credit for it myself. I clearly remember, though, that when I was about four, and Carribeth was about five, this joke was all the rage between us. And the joke went like this:

Q: What did the leopard say to the leopard?

A: Where have you been? You smell like gasoline!

We would then laugh hysterically after telling the joke. What is kind of odd is that I can recall what I used to picture in my head whenever I heard this joke, and it was Tony the Tiger, wearing one of those little baseball-like caps bicyclists used to wear before they had to wear helmets, driving in a convertible that was way too small for his huge tiger body, and then filling his car up at the gas station. I believe his little convertible was powder blue in my vision, and Tony was obviously trying to compensate for something with how tiny and sporty the car was. Maybe he had tail-envy. Either way, I obviously didn't know, at the age of four, what a leopard looked like.

For how hilarious we thought the joke was, I can only imagine how our parents, who were subjected to the joke numerous times a day for a period of God only knows how long, must have felt! They probably felt like listing us for sale on eBay, or, since eBay wasn't around back then, maybe they wanted to take us up to the Buford HighwayFlea Market and leave us with one of the more savory looking booth owners.

The leopard joke was good preparation for the somewhat funny joke I later told my Sunday school class when I was five. I am guessing someone who was older than I was told me this joke, because it's effectiveness depended on the appropriate use of a curse word, albeit, a mild one. The joke went something like this:

Q: Knock-knock.

A: Who's there?

Q: Ma-DAM...

A: Ma-DAM who?

Q: My damn foot's stuck in the door!

I remember practicing the joke and, one day at Sunday school at the Methodist church, after I named all the books of the New Testament and got stickers as my reward, I proudly told this illustrious joke to my teacher and classmates. I don't have a clear memory of what happened next, so I don't think I got in big trouble. I am guessing that my teacher assumed (correctly) that I didn't really understand that damn was not an appropriate word for a five year-old to use, and she probably just told me it was a bad word and not to use it again. My dad said damn and hell often enough when we were kids that I probably thought it was just another word like cake or chair or something. Are you beginning to see why I should not tell jokes?

The last of my unfortunate attempts at hilarity occurred in my seventh grade study skills class. All of the seventh graders had to rotate through all of the offered electives, and study skills was not my first pick, as I just wanted to take as many art classes as possible. I also think that my not really knowing anyone else in my class was a factor that allowed me to find the boldness to attempt this humor in the first place—that way, if no one thought it was funny, at least I wasn't embarrassing myself in front of my friends. I must have seen a TV show where someone attended Alcoholics Anonymous just before the first day of studyy skills class, because, on that first day, when my teacher had us go around the room and introduce ourselves, my turn went something like this:

Teacher: it's your turn, Audrey.

Audrey: My name's Audrey, and I'm an alcoholic.

Teacher and students stare at me, slack-jawed. They look around at each other, confused. The teacher completely ignores my introduction and moves on to the next person. It is never spoken of again.

Introducing yourself as an alcoholic in study
skills class is not very smart!

While I can now laugh at the fact that I introduced myself in, uh, such an unconventional way, I can also honestly ask myself, "What were you thinking?!" If I had a kid introduce herself in class the way I did, and if that kid was as quiet and shy as I was in seventh grade, I would find it to be the height of hilarity. I would, of course, act stern and give said child a good talking to, but inwardly I would enjoy a hearty chuckle, and I would also have a funny story to tell my friends and family. So, while my "joke" fell flat with my intended audience when I was eleven, it has entertained 35 year-old me, so I'm thinking it is a win!

As you can tell from these three stories, it is a good thing I never tried to make it as a stand up comedian. For some reason I can be funny on paper, but when I try to tell a joke out loud I end up being as awkward as that kid Paul from The Wonder Years. It is a good thing I wised up as I got older, and limited my jokes to audiences of only one or two friends. Though, I must say, to this day I still wonder where a leopard might be hanging out that he would end up smelling like gasoline. I guess it is one of life's eternal mysteries!

Leopard photo courtesy of http://eofdreams.com/photo/leopard/04/

Hello my name is image courtesy of http://www.bigbooksponsorship.org/blog/index.cfm/2010/1/7/When-at-a-AA-meeting-how-do-you-introduce-yourself

Posting Schedule Change

Here is a corgi for you because, who doesn't love corgis?!

Lately, I have had trouble finding time to write, and then, when I have had time, I have had trouble coming up with good things to write about. Some of my latest posts are not my best, and I think that I am sometimes coming up with topics that seem forced just so I will have something to say. Because of this, I will be cutting back on the number of posts per week. I will now post two or three times a week, rather than five times a week. I think this modified schedule will make for better posts when I do post, and will also be something my schedule can better handle. I thank you for reading, and I hope you will continue to read, even when there aren't as many posts. Hopefully, there will be a return to the quality of my earlier posts. I hope you have a great weekend, and I will see you next week!

Taming the Beast Within

I know I have talked many times before about my struggles with eating and, specifically, about my struggle to not eat everything in my sight. Well, I want you to know that I am working hard to tame the eating beast inside of me, and I think I may be beginning to see some success! What is my secret, you ask? Well, I have pretty much had to cut out two whole food groups from my life. Unfortunately, the two food groups I have had to ban from my plate are my two favorite food groups in the whole world: desserts and starchy snacks.

I could probably suck out this entire bag of sugar
through a straw.

I love desserts and carb-laden snack foods as much as I love some family members. When I am craving sugar, there is nothing I love more than down an icing-rich Gigi's cupcake, followed by some Cadbury Cream Eggs, and a Butterfinger Blizzard chaser. And, when I am hungry, particularly in the late afternoon, I love to eat pretzels, crackers, and even potato chips, if I'm in a daring mood. However, there is a giant unfortunate downside to my consumption of these sugary, carby foods: they make me crave more sugar and carbs, and they make me really hungry.

Although I cannot provide any evidence of this, I am pretty sure that carbs and sugar are addictive, and I think sugar is actually the more addictive of the two. If I ever eat any dessert, I just can't control myself, and I have a desire to ravenously ingest any manner of sugary delights within a five-foot radius of me. Plus, in addition to wanting to scarf down sugary treats, desserts also give me a major hankering for carbs of any kind-the unhealthier the better! Now,starchy snacks have a similar effect on me, although their influence is not nearly as damaging to my waistline. When I eat things like pretzels, Cheetos, or chips, I tend to crave more of the same.

As a result, I have given up sweets and desserts entirely. I have not had any sugary delights since two weeks ago Saturday, when that one forbidden Gigi's cupcake started the landslide sugar binge. For the first three or four days I felt like I wanted to gnaw my arm off, but now it is getting to the point where I crave sweets much less often than I used to. I eat starchy snacks in great moderation, and eating them rarely prevents terrible cravings and bingeing. Last week was the first week where most of my snacks were fruit, and I actually lost six pounds!

I might just be as preserved as Lenin's body!

I have also attempted to limit my consumption of diet drinks. Even though they contain sugar substitutes instead of real sugar, they also make me crave sweets, and they make me very hungry. I have started by replacing the super-sweet Fanta Zeros I used to drink like they were water with the less sweet diet ginger ale. I have also reduced the number of diet soft drinks I consume in a day, and I try to have only one Diet Snapple a day. It is hard, but, as is the case with the sugar and carbs, it is getting easier. Pretty soon I may actually be drinking mostly water.

Because of all the desserts and diet drinks I have ingested in my lifetime, I am pretty sure that my body contains enough preservatives to keep Lenin's body fresh for the next 53 years. Perhaps this means that I won't age, and that my face will not develop any wrinkles,or, at the very least, maybe the preservatives will act on my brain, preserving my thoughts and causing me not to forget to take my vitamins at lunchtime. In any case, a girl can dream!

Sugar image courtesy of http://m.dominosugar.com/sugar/granulated-sugar
Lenin image courtesy of http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2012/jun/15/lenin-body-moscow-burying-news