animal cracker o'clock

I have always been a pretty huge pig when it comes to food. When I was younger and other girls my age were daintily picking at their meals, I was scarfing down plate after plate of everything edible at the buffet. A woman actually came up to my sister and I after a fairly monstrous eating frenzy at the 94th Aerosquadron to say how much she'd enjoyed watching us shovel the food down in huge quantities. So yeah, you could say I like food.

I have no problem with my little food obsession, but lately I have been noticing something bordering on the alarming: when I wake up in the morning, the first thing I think of is what I'm going to eat that day. Like, "ooh I get to have my coffee in an hour and a half!" or maybe "Yes! Today is the day I am trying that new steak salad at work!" And it's not like I'm constantly eating new and exotic things; my food schedule has been the same for months. Coffee at 8:30, Special K (with strawberries!) at 10, salami sandwich with goldfish somewhere between 12:30 and 2, a piece of fruit at 3 and animal crackers at 4. You could literally set the clock by my snacking throughout the workday. And for dinner? I can work myself into a froth thinking about my options. This can't be normal.

With all that eating, I would easily be 300 pounds if it weren't for all the exercising I do to support my habits. Spinning to work off the cheese and crackers, kickboxing to counteract the effects of the ice cream sandwiches. But now that I'm (gasp!) 30, it seems like the scales are tipping more to the food side. A three mile run doesn't exactly work off that pound of macaroni and cheese anymore (did I mention I love cheese?), so I'm left with a really depressing choice. Either I work out even more - which would be hard to do since I'm already going to the gym 6-8 times a week, or I cut back on what I'm stuffing into my face. I'm not really sure I'm capable of making that decision.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have some cereal to eat.

there should be a law

The more I learn about childbirth and child-rearing, the less I feel like it's for me. But then, I read stories like this one and think, "Sweet jesus, if this person was allowed to procreate, then why not me??" I promise not to let MY child get behind the wheel to cart my drunk ass home until it's at least ten years old, which makes me better than this woman. (Except, of course, that I refer to all potential children as "it" which I have been told makes me seem less than motherly.)

With all the stories in the news lately, I really think there should be a law that requires all prospective parents to pass at least some basic competency tests/ mental health assessments before being allowed to take off that condom. Or maybe show that they can successfully raise a pet to its normal life expectancy...

but that mouse I left outside to its unfortunate demise doesn't count.