Fried CHICKEN!

My mother in law lives with us.  She is older and after suffering a few strokes, kidney failure and sarcoidosis, she has been left with limited movement, dimentia, and an almost religious committment to the almighty Fried Chicken.  No matter what time, day or night, she is hitting my husband up for some fried chicken.

Some days she will grab a couple of wings and clasp them tightly to her breast eating furtively as if someone is going to steal her fried chicken.  She will do this until my husband sees her and tells not to hide her chicken and to get a plate or at least a paper towel.  Sometimes she will get up and get one. . .other times she with try to eat her fried chicken faster.

It's been a comedy routine in our household ever since she moved in.  "I need me some chicken," she will say and my husband will reply, "Woman, you don't need no chicken!"  He tells her we have plenty of food in the house and why doesn't she have a tuna sandwich.  I wince because I know what's coming next:

"I need me some chicken"

And like a wind up toy, my husband is off and running.  I swear I have never seen 2 people spend more time talking about, arguing over, or eating fried chicken than my husband and his mother!

MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES!

The swimsuit I mentioned was not from Woman Within, but from Jessica London.  Look for "Convertible 3-Way Swimsuit."

3-way Convertible? Who knew!

Ok I have to tell you guys about this awesome thing I found.  First let me give you some background here.  I am pleasantly plump.  Well, that's what I'm calling it today okay?  And no, I am not giving anyone a penny for their thoughts!

So anyway, I definitely have some er, uh, "thigh issues".  Its getting hotter and hotter by the day and I love going to the pool, but I totally hate  showing my upper thighs.  What's worse is that I have ITP (you will never be able to pronounce what that stands for so let's leave it at acronym).  That means I have low blood platelets.  The problem with that is that it causes bruising for no reason at all.  The bruises don't hurt and they are not from bumping into anything.  They just appear.  On my upper thighs!

So for the past two weeks I've been trying to find THE perfect coverup.  Something gauzy and sheer but not pornographic.  Something without sleeves so I don't sweat to death.  Something that looks chic and casual without screaming "I'm fat, please don't look!"  Overall I'm a pretty confident woman but you know . . . sometimes a girl needs to cover up some stuff.

I've been all over ebay, llbean, Lands End, Macy's, Roaman's, The Avenue, etc.  Nothing really fit my ideal description of a coverup.  Sometimes the fat lady stores have things like dashikis and off the shoulder cutout thingys and batwing this or that.  It's so annoying.  I mean I don't want to look like a damn Golden Girl you know?

Anyway, I get this catalogue in the mail yesterday and there it was.  It was like light and gregorian chants burst from that page and my face lit up in thankfulness and gratitude.  Woman Within has what they call a "3-way Convertible bathing suit".  Oddly, I've seen this on their website but for some stupid reason they don't show you the 3 ways it can be converted so I had no idea how cool it was.  But the catalogue shows you.

Check this out.  The bathing suit has a dress attached to it with a slit on the side.  And not a dress that makes you look like a hippo in a tutu either.  It's a full size dress that comes down your leg right above the knee!!!  How freakin cool is that.  So you can wear it tied under the bust  which looks nice if you're like the model in the catalogue: toned and just big boned.  Or, you can wear it like a sarong to show as much or as little thigh as you want and tie it to the side.  Or just leave the whole thing down like a dress.  And its all swimsuit material so you can go into the water like that and never have to take it off or put it on!!!!

Why don't they make this a standard design for all women??  Women with big butts would love it.  Women with big thighs would love it.  Women with ITP would love it.  And modest women would love it.  Woman Within should kill their advertising and PR company for missing such a unique opportunity to stand out.  Anyway. . . I ordered it yesterday and can't wait to get in the water!!!

Creeeeaaaakkkkkk!

Creeeeaaaaak.  Crack crack crack. Whoomph!  Creeeeeaaak, creak, creak.  Whoomph!

I have this antique Windsor chair in my living room (creeeeaaaakkkk) and it's one of my prize possessions.  I remember going to an estate sale in Maplewood, it was late in the day and there wasn't much left.  Clearly the elderly couple was tired from the long day of people traipsing in and out of their house.   (Crack.....crack)  They practically gave it to me and I paid the nominal fee they asked feeling so clever and so satisfied with my purchase.  I love my Windsor chair.

No one really sits in it because the spindles sometimes become undone on the back seat of the chair; its old whaddya want?  That's why I have an antique crocheted throw over the back of it.  But it is still so beautiful to me.  In fact, most old things are beautiful to me (Whoomph!)  Antiquing is my favorite past time.  There are so many wonderful stories behind a milk glass perfume bottle with its fragile, opalescent edges,  a manual eggbeater, an old milk can, cigar boxes, or a worn rocking chair.

Syrup carafes remind me of going to the International House of Pancakes with my parents when I was a little girl.  Bread boxes, antique quilts, rolltop writing desks, Martha Washington side tables and wrought iron headboards all spark the same nostalgia of the things I had grown up with in our house (crack...crack, crack, crick crack) or my grandma's summer house in Sag Harbor.

Percolators for example (Whoomph!) remind me of mornings in Sag Harbor during the summer.  The adults walked about yawning and waiting for their coffee while the kids hurriedly put on our bathing suits ready to hit the beach.  (Creakkkk) --

FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY!  What in the hell is all that damn creaking and cracking and shit?  I get up an lean into the living room--God give me strength!  My mother in law is sitting in the goddam Windsor chair and has been try to get out of it for the past 10 minutes! She is too lazy to move the fricken TV tray in front of her which is why no matter how she rocks and creaks and cracks she will never get out of that fucking chair!

Who does that?  My poor Windsor chair is moaning in pain at the abuse this woman is putting it through, rocking and squatting and falling back down into with with a Whoomph!  Part of me knows its not really her fault.  But the other part of me wants her to get her ass out of my frickety frackin antique Windsor chair!!!


 

Is This Love?

My husband has always been a loving, forgetful, irresponsible, caring, procrastinating, kind and always late type of guy who has never been able to manage finances.  He also has a permanent residence in Denial, USA.  For the past 5 years or so, it has bothered me more and more.  Once our son was finally diagnosed with ADD I began to see the similarities between him and his Dad.

After a long struggle, we finally found the right meds for our son and he is doing so much better than he ever has before.  My husband has gotten worse.  My therapist thinks it's not necessarily that he has gotten worse, but that because our son is doing better I have more free time to look at my own life.

Either way, it can be devastatingly lonely to be married to someone with ADD.  Your spouse becomes your child and you are no longer on the same level.  Instead you mete out these never ending lists of things to do, call periodically throughout the day to remind, send a few text messages to confirm where and when your spouse needs to leave for an appointment and not to forget his keys which are in his gray sweatpants pocket (not the black ones)

The truth is that it is very difficult to be sexually attracted to someone who is so deeply dependent on your lists and reminders in order for them to function slightly below average in their day to day life.  And who wants a nag for a spouse anyway?  This really is a no win situation.


For all their good intentions, a spouse with ADD who is in denial can suck the life right out of you.  Take the wind out of your sails, rain on your parade, kill your buzz, I mean you name it and that's what it feels like.  All at once you are frustrated and angry and the other person has no idea what your all worked up about and assumes it must have something to do with work. . .or your period.

It's not that I don't understand what he is going through.  Our son has ADD and we have talked about alot of things with his psychiatrist.  We've read a lot about it so it is not foreign to us.  But I do think that a spouse has a responsibility to his family to be the very best he can be.

A "Take me as I am" attitude might be met with a "Leave you like you are" response to that selfish position.

Whatever You Do PLEASE DON'T TRY!

I hate people who try.

You know once I took one of those personality tests and they said the best profession for me would be a Drill Sergeant.  I don't disagree really, I'm all about the doing of stuff.  Phrases like "will do", "can do" and "done" really turn me on.  Me likey.  But just think about it for a moment. . .you invite someone out for drinks with the girls, you ask someone to call you later, you tell your kid to behave in school, you ask your husband to remember to bring the books back to the library; and what do they all say:  "I'LL TRY".

Boy that shit really chaps my ass!  Honestly, you know damn good and well that even when you yourself say it you mean it more like you have no intention whatsoever of trying.  People use it as out.  "I'LL TRY" is a polite way to NOT do things.  If you read between the lines you'll find that more often than not when a person says they will try what it really means is that you probably can't or won't do it, you'll do it if nothing good is on TV, you'll do it if you find the time or when pigs fly or after you learn how to ice skate when hell freezes over.  I mean how many people who TRY to understand ever do?

The really important thing to take note of is that the fact that you tried is extremely irrelevant to any task or request you didn't complete or do.  People use trying all time as a consolation prize for NOT doing something.  "Well, at least you tried."  That is such bullshit!  If you tried to save yourself from being hit by a car would you sit in the hospital with your ass in a sling feeling self satisfied because at least you tried?!  What about Nike?  Would their slogan be as powerful if it said "Just TRY to do it"? And do you think people win awards and change the world by trying to discover or invent something?  As far as I know there has never been an acceptance speech that ended with "At least I tried."

Ok, I know that I'm getting myself a little worked up here but I'm almost done.  Promise me this: the next time you feel those two idiotic words rise to your lips just shut it up.  Practice not trying.  Make it a habit not to try.  And for the love of all that is holy please don't let anyone TRY to do anything for you because then you'll really have your ass in a sling!

Plus Size My Ass!

Why is it that when you're looking for plus size clothing, the models wearing the plus size clothing are always regular sized?  Look online and you'll see--Macy's, Old Navy, Jessica London, SimplyBe even Roaman's.  They show how drawstring linen pants will fit a woman who has a space in between her legs.  They show you fitted tank tops on women without backfat,  and dresses on women with big boobs and flat stomachs.  What the hell good is that?


Talbots and The Avenue have models who are slightly more realistic but are instead of fat, merely bodacious.  Models with 22" waists and 44" hips.   These women have near perfect proportions.  They are amazons with hourglass figures that cause fabric to skim the waist and cling in all the right places.  Most of these women are unnaturally tall and are more rubinesque than plus size.


IGIGI is yet another plus size store online that features women with cartoonishly big breasts and ass for days!  Like an exaggerated superheroes these women are nothing like me either.  The are not in between an obese and a fat place.  There's no chance they will ever lose weight and after looking at them you'd wonder why they'd ever want to?  Everything about them is lucious and plentiful and joyously curvy.  Their faces are beautiful and unusually slender given all the stuff that sits below it and they look like deliberate creations.


But then go to Zappos.  They make no apologies for their models.  Their models are the MOST realistic I've ever seen.   They have bad skin and double chins and bad hair days (which I find a little unforgiveable) and are apple shaped, like me.  Most of them look like shit in their "Maude-like" get ups with voluminous fabrics that are too colorful and have too much pattern.  When a Zappos model wears a tank top, dammit you see her rolls, her fat rounded shoulders.  Its a very good representation of how you will look with those same clothes on.  This is why I'd never buy clothes from Zappos.  Where's my inspiration if the models look like this raw and real?  Zappos makes me feel bad about myself and that's when it occurs to me: this is exactly why most other websites don't depict "real women".  I mean who the hell wants to see that when you can look at it every day in the mirror?!

Shameful, Filthy Thoughts

Have you ever just wished for a do-over?  Sometimes I look around at my life and seem to only find the flaws.  Or at least the flaws are weighing more heavily lately than all the stuff I have to be thankful for.  The grass is always greener, be happy with what you have, you never know what you have until its gone.  Yeah I know all of that, yet I can't shake the unmistakable feeling that somewhere along the line I may have missed the boat.


I am not one to be plagued by what if's.  I am a decisive person with very few regrets.  So why does that question keeps going through my head like a banner attached to a plane going in circles.  It's not that my life is so bad or anything but I do wonder what it would be like not to have to check blood sugars at midnight or change infusion sets in the car because we didn't realize our son's pump only had 1 unit of insulin left before we left the house.  What would it be like not to have to worry about my son getting into a car or having sex without having a snack first?


My younger son, who is adventurous, came with me to an open house in a tony neighborhood recently.  The house was devoid of furniture so you could see all of the beautiful unscuffed wooden floors, the pristine wainscoting, the steady spiral staircase that led to spacious rooms with plenty of windows and light.  Nearly every room had its own bathroom.  Not at all like my house where there's always that knock at the door "What?", "I have to pee, are you gonna be in there long?" "Well, gimme a coupla minutes jeez..." "Ok.  And don't forget to spray!"


We are all guilty of comparing the outsides of other families with the inside of our own.  When you have special needs children, maybe you do that more?  Or maybe you do it less, because there's no time to daydream--there's usually only time enough to brace yourself for the next crisis.  Perhaps that somehow intensifies the feeling when you finally do have it?


Do other people ever imagine what it's like to spend every thread of hope and prayer on there NOT being a meltdown on any given day?  Is there someone out there dreaming of MY life and thinking how interesting it must be in comparison to their thin, boring, perfect, meaningless life?

PANTIES

Panties.

There are panty raids, panty wars and panty shields.  You got panty girdles and pantyhose too.  There's getting your panties in a twist and there is putting on your big girl panties but what I really came here to discuss is my panties.  I swear I don't ever recall having such an antagonistic relationship with my underwear.

It's true, I've gained a few pounds (39) but perhaps I might have been more careful about avoiding those softball-sized muffins and pints of Sweet Cream ice cream from Coldstone if I'd known in advance how that would impact my panty life.

Jockey hi-cut used to be my favorite.  They always fit perfectly and they are soft and if you really scour the internet you can find Jockey hi-cut panties with strawberries on them, flowers or stars.  I like that sort of thing.  But big ass panties are something different entirely!

I began my quest about 20 pounds ago when my underwear first stared rolling down.   OMG!  The military really could trade in water boarding and just make terrorist wear panties that roll down.  And they don't just roll down all at once--no--you can feel the band buckle at first.  Then there's this slow progression like a strip tease.

Slow torture is more like it!  First the panties roll down to your bellybutton and then stop there.  You think you're gonna be ok.  You had a set back, but nothing you can't handle.  You take a deep breath to regroup but then you feel that damn slow roll again.  You want so badly to jerk them back up just to avoid that next progression.  Sometimes I do, but when I'm sitting at my desk at work, I think the word for that particular move would be "inappropriate".  Sometimes I can't help myself and I do it anyway.  Those poor security cameras!

Ok so where were we?  Yes, so when panties come to a halt at the belly button you know you're in trouble.  The next step is a fast zip down to the very bottom of your stomach.  Your panties I mean.  That's where they end up.  I guess if you're thin that's where they start out, but when you are. . .er, em. . .not thin, that is where they end up.

Since this phenomena I have traveled to Macy's, JC Penney, Walmart and Lord & Taylor.  I've bought underwear from CVS, from Target, and from The Avenue.  Nothing doing.  I try size 7.  Size 9.  Hi-cut.  French cut.  My closet is chock full of 4-packs and 6-packs of underwear each with one pair missing:  I CAME, I SAW, I TRIED ON, I TORE OFF, I POUTED.

But 3 weeks ago I discovered a beautiful thing.  BRIEFS!  Jockey has a SuperSoft brief that fits perfectly and makes me feel very warm and happy inside.  This underwear rarely rolls down and for that, I forgive it on the few occasions when it does.  I managed to find Jockey SuperSoft briefs with polka dots.  Then I looked on ebay and found a 3-pack with a purple pair and a pair with purple and orange circles (SCORE!).

These panties have changed my life.  I am a happier more productive person.  I've learned to laugh more and my outlook on life has improved dramatically.  Perhaps I'll even stop taking my anti-depressants. . . ?

The Perfect Coffee Cup

I don't go anywhere without coffee.  I like it steaming hot and black (I know you know how bad I wanna say "like my men" right?)  Anyway,  I drink coffee when I wake up in the morning; paired with a Marlboro Ultra Light (Oh, excuse me--Silver Pack.)  I drink coffee while I'm driving to work and I drink more at my desk throughout the day.  I also make sure I have a cup of coffee whenever I am in a meeting at my kid's school or anyplace really.

t's not like I have nothing better to do or anything, but it's really important for an avid coffee drinker such as myself, to find the perfect coffee cup.  I tried the cup at Dunkin Donuts and it sucked.  Now this is nothing against Dunkin Donuts itself; hell, I could probably afford to purchase a summer home if I ever quit drinking Dunkin Donuts coffee but their travel coffee mug really sucks.  No matter what you do somehow coffee dribbles down your chin because the plastic lip of their travel mugs is too fat.

Starbucks is another place I've earned frequent flyer miles at, but their travel coffee mugs also suck.  I've purchased travel coffee mugs from: Duane Reade, CVS, Sears, Kmart, Bed, Bath & Beyond, Shoprite and Panera.  All of them SUCK!  Some of them dripped. Others leaked.  Still others never quite got seasoned and still managed to make the coffee taste like plastic or pencil shavings.

It's really important for a travel coffee cup to be sippable, no spillage.  It must allow the coffee to taste the way it would in a regular ceramic mug at home.  A travel coffee mug must be able to keep your coffee nice and hot.  And you can't have it leaking water every time you wash it.   Oh and that's another thing.  NEVER WASH YOUR TRAVEL COFFEE CUP WITH SOAPY WATER!  No matter what, it will forever make your cup taste like bubbles.

So last Christmas I went on yet another quest for the perfect travel coffee cup.  Target had one near the door on my way out.  It was maybe $3.99 or something and so I grabbed one.  I wrapped it up and addressed it to myself.  After that, I totally forgot about it.  I suffered all through the month of December with a travel coffee cup that was otherwise perfect except every time I lifted the cup to drink the tab at the top would slide closed so I'd only end up with a few drops of coffee in my mouth.

On Christmas day I opened my gift to myself last.  My travel coffee cup.  It is magnificent.  State of the art, really.  It sips perfectly;keeps my coffee piping hot;and allows the true rich flavor of the coffee to shine through.  My $3.99 travel coffee cup from Target has changed my life.

Pounds of Crisis

My 20's were some of the best times of my life.  You should have seen me then!  I had a job with an investment banking firm when the economy was at its peak.  That meant access to shows, restaurants, seats I'd never be able to afford otherwise.  It was the land of milk and honey and I enjoyed every drop.

I worked out at the New York Health and Racquet Club on my lunch hour and after work 5 days a week and had a cute little eating disorder on the side.  I was a size 6 (sometimes a size 4 on the top . . . to my chagrin) and man was I hot!  I was always getting those secret side glances or else those boldly lustful stares that made me more uncomfortable than I liked to let on.

Since I was a kid, I've struggled with my weight but my 20's were definitely a time of total narcissism and self indulgence.  I only had myself to think about so that's what I did.  I thought about my hair, my nails, my body, my weight, my money, my vacations, my shopping.  Damn it was a great time in history for me!

22 years later, I am faced with a shitty, bitter, hard to swallow truth.  I don't have time for most of that pampering and self-indulgence.  Even if I did, it would interfere with my dozing off like an old fart.  I have 2 kids and a husband and a mortgage and more bills that I know what to do with.  I've gained back every ounce of weight I've ever lost.  I have ITP too (a platelet disorder that causes constant bruising on upper thighs, stomach and arms) so even if I didn't look like a sausage in a bathing suit, at best I could probably pass for an abused wife who is shelter worthy.

My 30's were great in their own way.  That time of your life starts cementing who you are -- you come to grips with a lot of your short comings and you either let go of certain dreams and watch them fly away with a smile or else you make them come true.  It's a time when you really get to know yourself and if you're lucky. . .like the person you've found.

40 started off with a bang but then slid helplessly and full tilt downhill. The economy never really did recover although I think its stabilized somewhat.  I haven't had money problems since my late teens/early 20's so returning to that now definitely feels uncomfortable and kind of pisses me off.

And things I never questioned before have started cropping up.  Like whether or not I want to stay married to my husband; whether I want to move to Maine so that I can be closer to Stephen King and if I should try acupuncture.   Maybe this is my midlife crisis?  Maybe I am just a different person than I used to be?

Or maybe I just need to lose some weight?