When I express anxiety about my eating habits to my beloved people they don't really take it all that seriously, so I try not to worry too. Yet today I ate a Cadbury's Dairy Milk bar as an appetiser before lunch.
I don't think that's a good sign.
Showing posts with label eating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label eating. Show all posts
Monday, November 29, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
Did You Know...
...it is possible for oatmeal and cranberry cookies to taste good even when eaten directly out of the freezer?
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Aesthetics
I never gave much thought to the fact I have turned out to be an aesthetically focused person.
That was until I rocked up in a location where it's apparent I am the only one.
Obviously there have to be some other people who care about design or fashion or style (in any context) in the locality, but it's possible they are all tucked away working in the studios of the Emily Carr Institute to make any visible impact on the city.
It really matters to me how things look. If you've ever seen my hair 20 minutes after I've washed it or observed the state of my room you might laugh at this, but it's true. I once had a boy tell me, after I grimaced repeatedly at his baseball cap (he wasn't American or a baseball player - so what gives?) that I could wear a bin bag and he wouldn't care. Although the sentiment was the kind of thing girls everywhere long to hear after being bored to tears by prescriptive girly magazines with only one idea of 'cute' .... I wasn't impressed. You should care, is what I thought.
Advanced aestheticism is one of the traits that make us human after all.
All this preamble leads to the small and dull point that I hate wearing trainers. I wear them to walk the dog and even though it's true they surround my feet in cushiony bliss, they turn every single outfit into something straight from a very unfortunate council estate/trailerpark. For a start the pair I have here are ugly. The lady of the house I work for sold them to me as she had just bought them and didn't like them. It was one of those weird moments where she was all 'You can try these' as if she would lend them to me, but then quoted me a price.
They're not even my actual size, but they seemed to fit, and in all honesty it was the thought of shopping for trainers filling me with despair that made me accept her offer and take them off her hands.
Yesterday I wore an adorable floral pinafore with an A-line skirt and a top with cute metal fasteners. Then I put the trainers on. I looked down to see I had been transformed into a chubby chick in a tennis dress. (I have not been able to stop eating since I arrived. I don't look much different but my face is slightly moonier and my stomach has a small protective barrel encircling it. Plus that pinafore always gives me a bountiful rack where no such rack exists.)
That was until I rocked up in a location where it's apparent I am the only one.
Obviously there have to be some other people who care about design or fashion or style (in any context) in the locality, but it's possible they are all tucked away working in the studios of the Emily Carr Institute to make any visible impact on the city.
It really matters to me how things look. If you've ever seen my hair 20 minutes after I've washed it or observed the state of my room you might laugh at this, but it's true. I once had a boy tell me, after I grimaced repeatedly at his baseball cap (he wasn't American or a baseball player - so what gives?) that I could wear a bin bag and he wouldn't care. Although the sentiment was the kind of thing girls everywhere long to hear after being bored to tears by prescriptive girly magazines with only one idea of 'cute' .... I wasn't impressed. You should care, is what I thought.
Advanced aestheticism is one of the traits that make us human after all.
All this preamble leads to the small and dull point that I hate wearing trainers. I wear them to walk the dog and even though it's true they surround my feet in cushiony bliss, they turn every single outfit into something straight from a very unfortunate council estate/trailerpark. For a start the pair I have here are ugly. The lady of the house I work for sold them to me as she had just bought them and didn't like them. It was one of those weird moments where she was all 'You can try these' as if she would lend them to me, but then quoted me a price.
They're not even my actual size, but they seemed to fit, and in all honesty it was the thought of shopping for trainers filling me with despair that made me accept her offer and take them off her hands.
Yesterday I wore an adorable floral pinafore with an A-line skirt and a top with cute metal fasteners. Then I put the trainers on. I looked down to see I had been transformed into a chubby chick in a tennis dress. (I have not been able to stop eating since I arrived. I don't look much different but my face is slightly moonier and my stomach has a small protective barrel encircling it. Plus that pinafore always gives me a bountiful rack where no such rack exists.)
Monday, August 16, 2010
Where am I? Why am here?
This might be the fifth blog I have started and while the other 4 are languishing somewhere in cyper-purgatory, I think I can do this.
I have enough free time, a computer, and many things to complain about. Plus, I occasionally drink at home (thanks Jack Kerouac) so my ideas and plots should be forthcoming.
In my earlier blog incarnation I wanted to Explore Issues Important To Me, which is probably why it got stuck as all the socio-political concepts and thoughts whirled around in my head. This time I just want to figure out why I have voluntarily moved to a place that is making me so frustrated and miserable I just ate 3 caramel Mars bars in one day for lack of anything better to do. (And due to a nearby WallMart.)
Why aren't I blaming my lack of self control? Might be the first question. Well usually my self control is very highly evolved - I take pleasure in my willpower like Frog in 'Frog and Toad'.
Perhaps it is because in my new role as domestic wench I have just been asked to 'do a daily vomit check' on each floor of this 3 story house (for the aging cat's splendiferous hair ball churning), and 'occasionally check for poop' in the back garden (for the witless yet lovable dog). Perhaps I wanted to drown out the fact that I am in fact stupid enough to accept a position which includes monitoring of all feline and canine excretions, or because it never occurred to me in the first place that such things would be necessary. Ever, anywhere. I grew up in an environment blessedly free of vomit and poop (I'm the youngest child so all the vomit and poop was mine and I never had to clean it up). Also animal bodily functions are much grosser than human ones, in if you ask me. They're stinkier, and harder to anticipate.
Yes, I wanted to drown it all out. Drown it out in caramel.
I have enough free time, a computer, and many things to complain about. Plus, I occasionally drink at home (thanks Jack Kerouac) so my ideas and plots should be forthcoming.
In my earlier blog incarnation I wanted to Explore Issues Important To Me, which is probably why it got stuck as all the socio-political concepts and thoughts whirled around in my head. This time I just want to figure out why I have voluntarily moved to a place that is making me so frustrated and miserable I just ate 3 caramel Mars bars in one day for lack of anything better to do. (And due to a nearby WallMart.)
Why aren't I blaming my lack of self control? Might be the first question. Well usually my self control is very highly evolved - I take pleasure in my willpower like Frog in 'Frog and Toad'.
Perhaps it is because in my new role as domestic wench I have just been asked to 'do a daily vomit check' on each floor of this 3 story house (for the aging cat's splendiferous hair ball churning), and 'occasionally check for poop' in the back garden (for the witless yet lovable dog). Perhaps I wanted to drown out the fact that I am in fact stupid enough to accept a position which includes monitoring of all feline and canine excretions, or because it never occurred to me in the first place that such things would be necessary. Ever, anywhere. I grew up in an environment blessedly free of vomit and poop (I'm the youngest child so all the vomit and poop was mine and I never had to clean it up). Also animal bodily functions are much grosser than human ones, in if you ask me. They're stinkier, and harder to anticipate.
Yes, I wanted to drown it all out. Drown it out in caramel.
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