Meet The Perfects

We spent Saturday evening in Phoenix at a little Easter Eve shindig that brother #3 put together. Basically he put slate tiles on his patio and needed an excuse to show off.

You may remember my earlier rants about my in-laws from these two entries: The Fat Sister-In-Law and I Wish I Had That Kind of Time. I've decided on a new nickname for brother #3 and sister-in-law #3 - The Perfects. As in Mr. and Ms. Perfect. As in I would weep with envy if you weren't so fucking smug about it all.

One of Ms. Perfect's sisters was there. She weighs about 90 pounds, soaking wet. Which would be totally normal if she were 4'5". But she's not. She spent a good 15 minutes when she first got there, getting confirmation that her new pants didn't make her look fat, i.e. wasting our time. You cannot imagine how tempted I was to tell her they did make her look a little chunky.

Oh, honey, just stand next to me all night. Actually, gain 30 pounds, stand next to me, and still have people think you're anorexic. I think the lack of food in her diet may have affected her creative problem solving skills.

A bit later someone make the mistake of admiring a picture of Ms. Perfect. Who responded with, "Oh, that was taken in my skinny days." To which I responded, "Fuck you." And then I snapped her skinny little neck in my bare hands.

Well maybe only in my head.

In A Valley

I am in a foul mood today. I thought it was because I was dragged out of bed at 4:45 by Cha-Cha who then went on to cry for an hour because he was in a foul mood too. But then after dropping Quake off at school, Cha-Cha and I both got a great nap. I woke up feeling fantastic. But I'm back to crappy.

I'd just like to say to that hyper-critical voice inside my head that keeps telling me that I'm fat and lazy and basically a joke for a human being..."Shut the Fuck Up!"

I switched meds about 6 weeks ago. Good-bye Zoloft, hello Effexor. It was going really great until this week. Now I'm suddenly feeling dangerously close to that evil edge of despair. Are the drugs not working? Or am I just falling into "comfortable" thought patterns, the way of existing that I'm most familiar with?

Monkey Man has been in California for a trade show this week. Maybe the stress is just getting to me. My mother-in-law was here the last 2 days too. It was nice to have some help, and I really love her, but I have noticed that my self-loathing seems to get worse when I'm around her.

Maybe I just need a long, hot bath and a good cry.

I'm Like a Weeble!

We spent the weekend in Phoenix helping Monkey Man's cousin celebrate her 30th birthday. Her house is always a big hit with the 4 year old because she has a Wii. And really? What could be more wonderful to a preschooler already addicted to video games and obsessed with sports?

And she lets him drink Coke. It's kiddie heaven.

So she got the Wii Fit thingie for her birthday and much fun was had laughing at the adults who were often much worse at the activities than Quake. For those of you who haven't seen it in action, when you first get started it measures your "Wii age" based on some combination of your height, weight and balance ability on a quick succession of tests. Everyone else got ages 20 and 30 years above their real age. I managed to get a 37, only 1 year, actually 6 months, more than I currently am.

Losers! I may be fat, but I'm agile, damn it!

My mother will be so proud to know that all that money she spent on dance lessons finally paid off...

Early Morning Nutritional Rant

Could somebody please explain to my infant that 5 am is not an acceptable time to get up in the morning unless there's a plane to catch? Because he is not listening to me.

Went grocery shopping yesterday, which is not something I would usually deem exciting enough to share with you here. This trip was different because I spent an unusual amount of time reading labels. I've been hearing for awhile now that high fructose corn syrup (HFCS) is evil. Of course my child started a Waldorf preschool and I started going to a chiropractor in the last year so perhaps my experience is a little different...

Anyway, I decided that I'd like to try cutting out of our diets as much HFCS as possible this year. Yesterday's trip to the store was the first time I decided to read labels and try to buy alternatives. This turned out to be not so easy.

Jelly and yogurt? I get this. These are sweet things. Although I was a bit annoyed that there were few alternatives at this particular store, meaning I'll have to make regular trips to Trader Joe's from now on (not that I don't love TJs, but it's not conveniently located). But bread? And tomato soup? And salad dressing? I picked up a salad dressing that listed HFCS as the first ingredient. I'll make my own dressing from now on.

HFCS isn't just a health issue. It's also a big agra-business and big government issue; HFCS is a product whose existence depends on tariffs and subsidies. It's also an issue of "real" food; production depends on multiple chemical modifications, some of which require genetically modified enzymes. For those of you interested, here is the Wikipedia entry on HFCS.

Other articles of interest:
HFCS linked to diabetes from Science Daily
Some insight into the business of HFCS from the Gristmill
Michael Pollan talks to the Sierra Club about HFCS

The Fat Sister-In-Law

Christmas with my husband’s family can sometimes be a bit of tug-of-war since his parents are divorced and both of my sisters-in-law have family here too. So my mother-in-law planned a nice dinner a few days before Christmas where she could be with her three sons and their families without the pressure of one or more of them rushing off to another house.

So picture, if you will, three women (my mother-in-law, Sister-in-law#3*, and myself) getting ready to leave my mother-in-law’s house to travel to Brother#2’s house for dinner. The brothers had been out at the sand dunes so my husband called to ask me to bring his bathing suit since Brother#2 has a hot tub. I grabbed my suit too; it was chilly and a hot tub sounded divine. SIL#3 tells me she’s not packing her suit because she can’t face wearing it at the moment.

SIL#3 who is tall, thin, leggy and gorgeous. SIL#3 who is 10 years younger than me, weighs less than me, and is a good 4 inches taller than me.

I look at her, dumbfounded, and say, “If the fat sister-in-law who just had a baby 6 weeks ago can put on a bathing suit, then I think you can manage it.” She tried to make some lame excuse about being bloated, to which I pretty much responded, “What the fuck?” Then she went and got her bathing suit, and I told everyone how I shamed her into bringing it.

Maybe I’m crazy, but I just think life is too short to being worrying about whether or not my husband’s family thinks I’m too fat to wear a bathing suit.

*I’ve taken the liberty of numbering us according to the brothers’ birth order, making me SIL#1 and Monkey Man Brother#1.