What Goes Around Goes to Round

Let's face it. Dieting has been around well.... since Adam and Eve. I have even heard a rumor that the Devil told her that the apple was less fattening than the figs so that might have been why she so readily ate it. Mind you, had he mentioned the part about painful childbirth she might have reconsidered, but you know what they say about hindsight. Having given birth a few times myself, I would have opted for the calories and a longer walk around the garden.



Speaking of round though, why is it that "round" foods are not on most dieters lists? Come on now, follow me here OK? Let's start with a donut. The operative word being "A" donut. Personally, I have never been served a donut that I turned my nose up at and just ate it to be polite. Let's face it. Coffee and donuts have been a staple at most church fellowship events and even have found their way into the Network Marketing gigs. I have often times delivered a dozen of these delectables for the opportunity to meet a new business person and of course just had to sit and enjoy one with them. Haven't you? And why on earth do 2 donuts always taste better than just 1? Or how about the meet and greet cookie brigade? I am the first one signed up to go and bring cookies to a new person in the neighborhood. There is such a sweet reward when you do this. Take a few, eat a few is my motto.



Let's take just a moment and explore some of the 'roundies' that don't get a bad wrap. A head of broccoli or cauliflower for example. They are round when you buy them. But.......when you serve them, they are pulled apart and disguised as "florets". No more round, no more calories. Oranges. Peel 'em, break 'em apart and voila......they become wedges. No more round. Grapes are another example of the injustice. They are round AND they come in bunches but because you have to pull them off the stem to enjoy them, that act would be considered exercise hence.....no calories. Do I detect a pattern here?



Over the years the good folks that bring you all the delicious round foods, have tried to be shape changers. A donut isn't really a round food if you have it in a bar form. Like a lemon filled or an eclair. These are rectangles. And what about the cheesy gooey pizza that no longer is round but is a deep dish square. This should be OK too right? I once witnessed the guy at the ice cream counter deliver to me a "cube" shaped ice cream cone, because after all round things don't have corners so you guessed it....calories should have disappeared don't you think?



Now, I have never claimed to be a Rocket Scientist or anything but hey, it seems to me that something could be done about this injustice. It is almost politically incorrect to be a round food anymore. Someone should take up the cause and fight for what is right. I am tired of the clandestine RFE Anonymous meetings aren't you? The burying of the round foods in the bottom of the grocery basket so that no one knows what you are buying. It is shameful really. Round foods have feelings too ya know!!! They must come together and fight for the right to be who they are. No longer should they stay hidden in pantries across the world. Tortillas, potato chips, donuts, cookies, bagels it is time to unite. Just not on my waistline OK?

Does this Suit Suit Me?

With family reunion lurking in the not to distant future, it is time to once again gather my senses and realize that I must go out and do the unthinkable. You know. The thing that makes women shiver down their timbers. It makes the grown men who have to go with them quake in fear of saying the wrong thing. Yep. You know it. It is time to go and get a new bathing suit.



I am not sure how other states in the union introduce their "seasonal" wear, but here in the great state of Texas, the department stores pack up everything even remotely considered warm, and stocks the aisles with bathing suits while the snow is still on the ground. I am sure that their marketing people feel that we shoppers need this little reminder of brighter sunnier days in our future right? Or could it be that they have taken a very close look at us and realized that we gotta start now if we think for even one moment that we are going to fit into one of the latest and greatest swimsuits.



My philosophy is to pick a time during the day when most other female shoppers are NOT going to be shopping. There is just something about trying on bathing suits in front of lesser women that sets my teeth on edge. A size 4 has absolutely no business being in the same dressing room area as a size 12. They need to respect my space, because trust me I need more than they do in that fitting room area. I am still pulling and tucking while they are out in the center of the fitting room prancing around and twirlin' in front of the full length mirror. I am cowered on the floor of the fitting room with one leg stuck inside the suit that I swear should have fit, and didn't.



Last year, I tried on one that was supposed to give me the look that I wanted. Thin. Vibrant. Sexy. Did I say thin???? I refer to this suit as the Bluffakini. It comes in cute patterns and prints and its claim to fame is that it can hold anything on anyone "in". Think about this girls. A bikini that will HOLD you in. "In" where? was my first thought. I have tried unsuccessfully to hold "this" in, so how in the world can a bikini do it? But, never one to be doubtful, because after all, we all know that advertisers would never make a false claim, I pick one up and head for the dressing room. Once I get over the shock of seeing myself nearly nude, I begin the process of trying on my Bluffakini. It takes a good 15 minutes to tuck everything in and I am bent over trying to catch my breath because I feel like I have just climbed a flight of stairs. Stuffing and shoving and hiding is hard work! With reddened cheeks from all of the exertion, I glance in the mirror. Huh. Not bad. The Bluffakini has successfully trimmed and thinned me. I can't breathe mind you, but it hadn't advertised anything about breathing.



Here is the only flaw that I could see, and trust me I SAW this one. The Bluffakini made my backside UN-teeny. The front view looked all nice and trim while the view from the side resembled a rising dough ball. Like at any moment I was going to have a pressure build up and explode. One big bounce while on the boat could send me skyward like an overfilled balloon that someone released. I must admit, in my naivete I wasn't sure where all of the tucking and shoving stuff was going to end up, but it shouldn't have ended up THERE for heavens sake. Shouldn't the view of me from any given angle been one of a sleek athlete ? Even with my wonder tan, I looked like a freshly baked pretzel.



So here we are. Knowing full well that this year will be no different, that the times and size, they ain't a changin', I am once more in search of the perfect bathing suit for family reunion. Will it be within my grasp this year or as in years past will it leave me just.... gasping for air.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

I am sure everyone has had a bad hair day from time to time. Some days there is simply not enough conditioner on the planet to tame this mop of mine. It is extremely curly and as unruly as a two year old having a fit at the candy counter. I am thinking, if I traced my family tree back a few hundred years or so, my hair DNA must have had a curse put on it. There is no other reason that I can think of. After all, you know me.....I am nice.

In my younger years, and of course youth gives me no excuse for bad behavior, I could hardly hide my disdain for people who grew hair, in my opinion, where hair really shouldn't be. Standing in line patiently at the grocery store, making idle conversation with the person behind me, when all of a sudden my eyes would be riveted on these little wisps of hair. I'm not talking about a hair or two being out of place here either. Oh, no, no, no, my friends. I am referring to the moment when they turn their head and the light catches these 4 inch hairs growing from their earlobes or chins. I have to cover my child's eyes for fear that they will be terrified at the sight of this. I am almost speechless, and the conversation ends with me mumbling something about them having a good day and vowing that this will never happen to me.


My "moment in the sun" came on a beautiful spring day while at the ball park with the family. We were all kicking back enjoying the game, while feasting on nachos and soda. The grandkids were having a great time and my daughter and I, sitting side by side, were busy catching up on the news of work and family. All of a sudden, mid bite mind you, she stares at me with her mouth gaping open and says "Mother!!! My gosh, what is on your chin?" My first constructive thought was that I must have a smidgen of melted cheese on my chin from the nachos. Makes sense right????? I gently dab at my chin with the napkin and then turn to her and say "There. Did I get it?"


Before I can finish wiping my face she has turned and is frantically going through her purse desperately seeking something and all the while mumbling to herself about this shameful situation. The next thing I know she has whipped out a pair of tweezers and has grabbed ahold of my chin and as she "tsk, tsk,tsks" me, she begins to pluck, pluck,pluck me !!!! Now, it is not that I am an overly private kind of person, but hey, plucking my chin at the ballpark is not something that I would consider as a day at the spa. She even calls my husband and son-in-law over to a gander at the atrocity of the situation. Well, let me tell you, I made a firm decision to never let this happen again. How, or better yet, when, did I become the person from the grocery store line. How does a nice person like me, turn into hairy monstrosity overnight? I must get a handle on this whole thing and NOW.


Wearing glasses and trying to see myself in a mirror has become quite a challenge these last few years. As I stood at the bathroom sink, poised and ready with tweezers in hand, I realized that with the bifocals in my lenses, my chin area became just a blur of flesh colored material. I couldn't see the hair much less try to grab them with the tip of these itsy bitsy tweezers. So I called in my husband for reinforcement. He put on his reading glasses thinking that it would give him just the right view and clarity. Nope. He couldn't see what he was doing either. Being an Internet surfer from way back, he decides that we can get all the direction we needed from the web and proceeds to look up "hair removal". Lots of wonderful products pop up and we read all about them. We make our decision and off we go to the store to buy wax strips. "This should get the job done" he says and smiles.


Sitting in a chair with my head tilted back, I watch with amazement, as my loving husband rubs the wax strips in his palms to get them good and soft and ready to do their job. He gently peels the paper off and then applies them to my chin massaging them so they will get "all of the hair". No stragglers left on my pretty face. He straightens up, rubs his hands together, gives his knuckles a good crack and says "Ready"? Before I can suck in a breath he yanks as hard as he can, practically ripping me out of the chair. Good night Agnes. Are these things made of crazy glue? I feel like the bottom portion of my face has been permanently removed. I am waiting for the blood flow to start. Do people really do this all the time?


My husband, bless his heart, has now made it his mission to keep all those nasty hairs from building up on my pretty little face. At the drop of a hat, or a stray ray of sunshine, he will lovingly offer to groom me. My my, I am one lucky gal huh? He doesn't even complain about doing it. Nope, not at all. He sets to his work almost joyfully. What's that? Maybe too joyfully? You don't really think do you......he is enjoying this far too much????? Well I never....ever.....would have thought of that. You don't think that is why I just happened to notice a little stray ear hair that I will need to take care of for him do you? Hell hath no fury like a woman with a spare wax strip.

Spring is in the Air

With warmer weather finally arriving in North Texas it is time to open up the windows and breathe in the wonderful blooming flowers. The Carolina jasmine that is hanging across our fence down the driveway mingles with the Star jasmine to create the most amazing sweet smell. The roses in my neighbors garden smell and look gorgeous. For me, there is nothing that quite compares to a freshly mowed lawn either. Life is good.


Growing up in a real family friendly neighborhood, brings back the memories of Easter egg hunts, baskets brimming with jelly beans, Peeps and of course a Helen Grace Chocolate Easter Egg. I get goose pimply just thinking about those eggs. They were huge. Rich, creamy, melt in your mouth chocolate with an even creamier dreamier walnut chocolate filling. These eggs were so big you had to slice pieces off with a butter knife. mounds and mounds of chocolate covered this and sugar filled that. Life was soooo tastey.


Our neighborhood also gathered together to have the annual Easter Egg Hunt. We kids would wait for what seemed like hours as the parents hid all of those marvelously colored eggs around the bushes and trees on the street. Then, with our empty baskets ready, we would launch out on the wildest race to see who could find and claim the most eggs. Dashing here and there, grabbing eggs and shrieking with pure joy. Life was breathless.


Once I started my own family, I declare that I too, would keep these wonderful traditions alive. Each year, I would scour the candy aisles to get the best most dazzling candies to surprise and amaze my children. I would spend hours in the kitchen, late at night, when the little darlings were asleep, hard boiling the eggs and then preparing them to be gently dipped in the vinegar and dye, watching, watching, watching as they magically changed into the colors of the rainbow. To this day I love that smell. It triggers such wonderful memories of time gone by. Once the eggs dried I would place them ever so lovingly around the house and the yard knowing that my kids too, would dance with glee on this wonderful adventure of the hunt. Life was exciting.


Just like any of our other holidays, Easter only lasts so long. Within a couple of days, the "good" candy that was so lovingly placed in those adorable baskets is gone, and most of the green basket grass has been cut off the beater bars of the vacuum. We have consumed more egg salad sandwiches than the FDA recommends and are beginning to look ahead to the next celebratory time. But then something odd catches my attention. I can't quite place it. I follow the scent throughout the living room certain that something must have died somewhere within the walls of my home. There must be a dead animal up in the attic. Life gets smelly.


As with any adventure in life, or learning experience, it is important that we look to these moments and decide that we will become better smarter people because of them. What is the sense of not taking every opportunity we are given and sharing those moments with the ones we love. Little life lessons I call them. The "something to write home about" stuff that makes us stronger and wiser. We can administer our wealth of knowledge to those younger ones, struggling to bring to their families the best holiday memories that money can buy. Sage advice from those who have been there, done that. Count the dang eggs BEFORE you hide them.

Life.....just gets.