Posts Tagged ‘Weight loss’

Dogwood Girl Recipes: Bowl of Shame

Tuesday, September 30th, 2008

Bowl of Shame is my favorite snack when I crave something sweet, which is really only when I am . . . let’s see, how shall i put this so as not to offend the delicate sensibilities of Natalie’s husband? Let’s try, “Being visited.” Just like little aliens came down and possessed my body and made me eat it, which of course absolves me of the shame. But the shame, oh the shame! That is the part that tastes so good. I am sure of it.

Bowl of Shame


  • One child-size individual vanilla chocolate swirl ice cream cup
  • Two Pop-Tarts (I prefer iced brown sugar and cinnamon, but I know this could create much dissension in the ranks, so you could totally substitute cherry or strawberry, both of which would go great with the vanilla strawberry swirl ice cream cup, if you feel like you need more fruits in your diet.)
  • Peanut Butter (Crunchy is more fun)
  • Lite Cool Whip (Because you are, like, totally diet-conscious)
  • Honey


  1. Open indy ice cream, turn over upside down and squeeze gently out of plastic cup into soup or salad bowl. (Presentation is everything, people! Extra points if you have a sundae dish!)
  2. Break each Pop Tart in half and stick all four halves at an angle, so that they lean against the sides of the bowl, creating awesome ramps of brown sugar icing goodness sloping down to ice cream love.
  3. Take one heaping scoop of peanut butter (i use a big-ass serving spoon to measure out the correct amount) and dump it onto the ice cream. Lick spoon clean, or let dog do it for you.
  4. Heap one spoon of Cool Whip on top of that, so that you create a swaying, leaning tower of diabetic coma proportions.
  5. Squeeze a ton of honey all over it (lady-like drizzling is for pussies), making sure honey is running down pop-tart sides to form a golden pool around the peanut butter and ice cream.
  6. Sit in front of tv while watching The Hills, ANTM, or Real World Road Rules Challenge.
  7. Sink into a physically-satisfying, but mentally degrading heap of self loathing.
  8. Feed the children the remaining two Pop Tarts the following morning, despite your usual rule of “no junk,” just to get the rest of them out of the house, and then run 3.5 miles in futile attempt to keep mountains of sugary love off of your thighs.

On the Genetics of M and M Sorting

Wednesday, July 2nd, 2008

We’ve been using M&Ms to bribe Tiller into using the potty. (I don’t want to hear the “you are going to give her an eating disorder” comments, either.) So far, it’s not working well, but I can totally use them as good-behavior-inducing after-dinner treats. I’ve been counting Weight Watcher’s points again, hoping to kick my weight loss back into gear (working out alone just doesn’t do crap for me), but when i saw the diminutive little individual bags, i thought, “Oh, I’ll just have one and count the points later.” Big mistake: Four points!!!! They are the devil.

I went into the den, turned on Jeopardy, opened the bag and dumped them out on the coffee table. I separated the M&Ms into colors, then put each color group into a little line, so that i could see how many of each color I had. Then, i ate from the colors with the most candies, until i had evened out the lines. Then, I proceeded to eat the m&ms one at a time, taking one from each color line (brown first) until they were all gone.

At some point, Tiller came in, having inhaled her M&Ms, asking for more. “Nope,” I said, “you need to go put your dishes in the sink and then go up and wash your hands.” Finishing up my own neatly-ordered portion, I realized I hadn’t heard much out of Rollie. Cleaning up my wrapper and grabbing my drink glass, I walked back into the kitchen, belting out a “Rollie, what are you doing, buddy? It’s time to clean up and hit the showers!”

“Mama, I’m not finished yet!” he yelled back.

I looked at the kitchen table and came to a screeching halt. Rollie was intently looking down at his M&Ms, all laid out neatly in piles, organized by color. I watched him for a moment.

“Rollie, what are you doing?”

“Eating my M&Ms!”

“You put them in little piles?”


“By color?”


“I used to do that when i was a little girl.”

“You did, mama?”

“Yeah, I did,” I said with a smile. “You come on up and get ready for a bath when you get done with the M&Ms, okay?”

“Okay, Mama,” he replied, not once taking his eyes off the little colored piles, his eyes scanning them, as he carefully picked one and popped it into his mouth.

Sometimes genetics are just downright weird. And sometimes they are kind of sweet.


Thursday, January 10th, 2008

I hate New Year’s Resolutions. I never keep them. Ever. Okay, I did make a NY resolution to quit smoking and it stuck. Twice. The first time I quit for two years and then I decided I could have one when I was drinking and then suddenly I was smoking again. A couple of years later, though, i decided enough was enough. I quit in January of 2002, and this January makes six years I’ve gone without one, which is more than I can say for a certain Creeker who would have had me beat by years if he hadn’t given in to drunken nostalgia one fateful night in December of 2006. That is surely bad karma catching up with him for teaching me to smoke in the first place.

Blame others. That’s what my family does.

Anyway, in the spirit of New Year’s Resolve, here is my plan for things I’d like to do this year.

Open-Ended Nebulous Stuff:

Watch Less TV, Write More
Be more Patient, especially with the children
Not raise my voice as much with the children
Be more consistent with children’s discipline, (in particular, Timeouts.)
Go Out More
Be more positive

Measurable Goals:
Lose the stupid weight already!!!!
Run at least 1 10k
Run a Half.
Do my first tri.
Complete three short stories that I am happy with and make sure other people read them, rather than hording them and telling myself I am not good enough.

The hard one here is the tri, because of the need to have real time on the bike, and that requires TIME. Time is definitely my difficulty, management-wise. I am amazed that people with children ever become serious athletes. (Steph and Nat amaze me, pretty much daily, with their dedication and time management skills.)

Okay, the letting people read what I write part is hard, too, because I am pretty self-conscious about it, and the first go-round did not go very well. I am going to bite the bullet, though.

Anyway, that’s what’s up for me this year. Make sure to ask me how I’m doing, so that I am embarrassed into action every once in a while. I have a funny feeling that this is going to turn into a “Todd picking his hangnails” situation. When Todd and I first started dating, I noticed he wore band-aids on his fingers a lot. I did not like that. Band aids are gross. So, he admitted that picking at his hangnails was a bad habit he would like to quit and for me to tell him if he was doing it in front of me, because sometimes he didn’t even realize he was doing it. I don’t think he realized back in ’99 that he would still be sitting next to me on the couch in 2008, and I would still be telling him to stop picking at his hangnails.

8 Mile

Sunday, July 29th, 2007

I did it. I ran eight miles. That is the farthest I have ever run in my life. I planned to do it outside, but the weather was threatening thunderstorms, so I relented and agreed to do it on the treadmill at the gym. I get so fucking bored on the treadmill that I want to die, but I just told myself that I had to do it and if I didn’t, i would be disappointed in myself. Somehow, either the self-induced guilt trip worked, or I just had one of those “magic” running days where it just isn’t that hard, and anything seems possible. I was really tired, and it was hard, but I just took two miles at a time, and it wasn’t that bad.

Sure, the no hills and lots of AC probably made it easier, but the thing that I am starting to realize is that the most important element to this running thing is the mental element. I just had to tell myself that I could do it, and that, to borrow from that sage poet Eminem, “you can do anything you set your mind to.”

Total time for the 8 miles: 1 hr 34 mins 44 secs. (11:51 pace)

Oh, and according to my little calculator I use to map my routes, running 8 miles at a 12 minute pace adds up to about 1000 cals burned. That’s, like, ten light beers.