Brantley Don't Read This! It's About Girl Stuff You Wouldn't Care About

It's been a couple of years since my husband's dramatic weight loss. I've never written about it...or, at least I don't remember having written about it. I have a really crappy memory. Anyway, I DO remember him saying that I wasn't allowed to write about his transformation from Brantley to Brantley-2.0, but I'll be honest, the shit has gotten real lately.

While I wholeheartedly respect him for having the chutzpa to lose 110 pounds by portion control and exercise, I am creeping closer and closer to my wit's end, and it's due to two words. DIET FOOD.

Brantley does most of the grocery shopping, as well as the laundry (shut-up, I'm a princess). Those are great things, but the food he comes back with has grown increasingly harder to force down. Aside from produce, we have no normal food in the house. Everything has the words, "high," or "low" on it. For instance, I just ate a turkey and cheese high-fiber wrap that consisted of low-sodium turkey and low-fat cheese. The fiber is what's killing me. I'm breaking wind every time I move. Luke doesn't even think it's funny any more.

I went to the fridge this evening to fetch the ice-cream that I requested per the grocery list. Words cannot express the feeling of a soul being crushed, but I tell you that I felt it when I read the words, "Fat Free Chocolate." I forced it down, but I didn't enjoy it, and I voiced my opinion on the matter.

I like being healthy as much as the next person, but I still need my comfort food. I'm ok with having a figure that says, "I workout sometimes, but yeah, I eat cornbread." My best friend calls this being "supple." Yes, I can handle being supple, but it's growing harder and harder considering my lack of supplies.

So I'll be packing away emergency rations starting tomorrow. Each one will contain Little Debbie cakes, buttered popcorn, honey roasted peanuts, and of course, Diet Coke.

July 4, 2010

October 3, 2011

Moms Against Sexy Faces

In response to the overwhelming amount of sexy, or duck-face pictures being posted on Facebook and Twitter lately I’ve decided to combat this problem head on. 

The coalition known as, “Moms Against Sexy Faces” (MASF) has just been born with the sole purpose of discouraging such photographic faux pas. 

MASF wants all ladies of social media to think before posting a sexy face picture. Don’t take this the wrong way, but the photo doesn’t look as good as you think (even when airbrushed).

There will come a point when a sexy facer you know needs a job or wants to run for PTA, and with one quick Google search there it’ll be- the black and white photo they considered artsy at the time despite their obviously drunk eyes and barely there bikini top. Rest assured that this sexy facer will be passed up for another candidate who favors one-piece bathing suits, mom jeans, and sweater sets.

The sexy face photo DOESN’T make you seem young, and for that matter neither does a toe ring, but that deserves a separate coalition all together. MASF can only do so much.

MASF would like to now offer some alternatives to the sexy face photo:

The toothy grin photo (a true classic)

The family photo
The sitting on a donkey at the Grand Canyon photo

The standing next to a national monument photo

The Gatlinburg gift shop photo (a personal favorite)

The "What I cooked for dinner tonight" photo

The me and my pet photo

Still not sure what constitutes an overly provocative photo? Here are some examples.

The following is one wholesome, suitable photo followed by an inappropriate photo- the kind that should never see the light of day. 

A toothy grin and a family photo in one. 

MASF approved!

NOT OK! 

Why?  The overtly grotesque nudity could result in the observer having intrusive thoughts and flashbacks. In other words, way too sexy. (Just between you and me, this was the first time I ever appeared nude on camera.)

Please join MASF and myself in the fight against unnecessarily sultry photos.

Sincerely,

Lori Wescott

President, Moms Against Sexy Faces
(Nashville, TN chapter)

The Summer Inquisition

Luke has been rampant with questions the last couple of weeks.
"Why do we wear shirts?"
"Do monkeys have tails?"
"How does the beach work?"
"Do all Daddies work at CVS?"
"Where's your penis?"
"What makes the sun move around in the sky"

Not all of these questions are easily answered, and you can bet that each answer will be followed up with, "Why?" For instance, I told him I loved him this morning. "What does, 'I love you' REALLY mean?" he asked.
"Well, it means that I care about you a whole lot."
"Why?"
"Because you're my son and I like spending time with you."
"Why?"
"Because you're funny. You make me laugh a lot."
"Why?"
"Just forget I said it."

Luke-isms

Me: "Luke, did you have fun at school today? Who did you play with?"
Luke: "Yes, I did. I played with Ruby on the swing set. I told her I'm not a gentleman."
Me: "What? Why did you say that?"
Luke: "Because I not."
Me: "I know you don't understand what this means, but I want to be her mother-in-law one day, so don't mess this up for me, ok."
Luke: "Ok, Mom."
Me: "So you're going to behave like a gentleman, right?"
Luke: "No."
Me: "Do you know what gentleman means?"
Luke: "Yes, it means hungry for popsicles or ice-cream."
Me: "Well, actually it means to be polite."
Luke: "No, I not doing that."
(sigh)

Marital Banter

Brantley had just fixed himself a fine looking turkey sandwich. I can't explain it, but I was feeling the overwhelming urge to bully someone. So without giving it too much thought I punched his sandwich flat. The bread was soft, and it felt great. Brantley expressed his disapproval. "What the hell was that for?"
"I don't know," I said. "I just saw it and felt like punching it."
"I see something I feel like punching too."
"Point taken. You complete me."

Chimpanzee Movie

I took Luke to see the movie Chimpanzee last night. "It's rated G," I thought. "It'll be safe to watch with him." I was wrong. Not to ruin the movie for you, but it's a little violent and scary to be rated G. In the movie description it said that the baby chimp, Oscar, gets separated from his mother, and is adopted by another adult chimpanzee. What it didn't say was that Oscar's mother would be killed in an attack from a rival group of chimpanzees. It was a bit much for Luke.

When the movie was over Luke dropped his toy chimp that he had taken with us to the movie. It fell between the seats and disappeared. I used my cell phone as a flash light and crawled on my hands and knees up and down our sticky row in an effort to find toy Oscar. Oscar was nowhere to be found and Luke was distraught.

When the theater workers came in to clean the theater we were still in there searching. They came to our aid with brooms and flashlights. Eventually, one of the workers leaned over and said, "You know what, honey? I bet another kid found Oscar and took him home." If Luke wasn't already upset, this really sent him over the edge. He began to wail. "He's wost. He's wost. He's gonna be so scared 'cause he doesn't have a mudder." They told us to check at the lost and found desk which we did. No Oscar. He pleaded as we walked out the door. "Pwease, pwease don't make me weave him here. Poor wittle guy doesn't have a mudder. I'm so sorry I dropped him."

I felt certain that he'd forget about Oscar as soon as we got in the car and headed home, but he didn't. I asked him if he got enough to eat and he responded, "I'm not speaking right now. I'm just too sad." Oh good grief. It was time to get creative.

"I bet someone found Oscar and took him back to the store where we bought him. We should go there and check." Luke thought this was a great idea, and I was hoping and praying that Michaels would still be open at 8:50pm. They were, but just barely. We briskly walked in and Luke stopped at the customer service desk. "Uh scuse me, has eberyone seen a chimpanzee in here?" He went on to explain how he lost his toy and we were there to see if someone brought it back to its home. One of the employees picked up on my scheme and escorted us to the back to find a replacement Oscar. With that, we headed home.

Now, for all of my critics out there, please note that I fully intend to let my son learn about loss, but yesterday wasn't going to be the day AND it wasn't going to be over a toy chimpanzee. The moral of the story is this, unless you want your three year old to be traumatized into feeling empathy for non-living things, don't take them to see Chimpanzee for at least a couple of years.