My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard!

A couple of years ago I got really sick, not donation can at the handy pantry / let’s organize a chili supper fundraiser sick, just a tremendously bad flu. I was off work for nearly a week and didn’t eat anything besides chicken broth and Diet Pepsi for five straight days. Usually I convince my husband that ice cream will make me feel better and he runs out, grabs me a quart, and won’t let the kids have even a spoonful but not this time. I felt horrible; I just laid in bed and drifted in and out of sleep. My husband slowly took up residency in the living room calling me “a carrier”. The children stopped asking for me and my bedroom was treated like the Bermuda triangle. I was alone except for my one constant companion, loyal friend, and confidant, my dog Jack (his full name is Jackson – named after Samuel L. Jackson, the coolest man in Hollywood.) Jack stayed right at the foot of the bed and it was his love that pulled me through those dark days… O.K. I admit that was a bit dramatic, it was just the flu but he truly was good company. Anyway, even though I started feeling better my appetite didn’t come back right away and after about two weeks I realized that I had lost 7 pounds. WOW! Seven pounds without even trying! A couple of people commented and I started thinking, “I’ve already decreased the amount of food I’m eating. Why not see how far I can take it?” So, I kept my meals small, my snacks healthy (for the record though baby carrots are never as scrumptious as Oreo Cookie Blizzard, they just aren’t), and even started a light exercise regime. When I say light, I mean very light! (I did sit-ups on my bed while my husband sat on my feet and played Playstation 2 – Grand Theft Auto). Even so, after 5 months I had dropped 36 pounds, every night I could do 50 sit-ups (without farting… as much as before, anyway), and I felt SUPER SASSY. So, I decided to treat myself and went to Wal-Mart and bought some new clothes (Hey! Don’t judge… I said I lost weight, not hit on the lottery and besides I could also pick up dog food, school supplies, and oil for the car. You can’t do that at Macy’s!) .

About six months into my metamorphosis, I got hungry. Not terribly hungry but just hungry enough that I was always painfully aware of any caramel-coated or salty deliciousness around me. Then one night my stomach woke me from a sound sleep and I was not happy (In my dream I had been white-water rafting with Brad Pitt and he was trying to explain away his horrible Aniston-Jolie behavior. He had just told me, “I love Angie, D, and I need you to understand but I also need your forgiveness”, when I heard what I thought was the rumble of a waterfall. It was my stomach and I woke up). I checked the clock 4:25 a.m. and I had to get up at 6:45. I thought about it and decided in order to go back to sleep I would eat part of my breakfast now and the rest when I woke up. It made sense to me so I ate two pieces of toast with honey and went back to bed. Sounds logical, right? Of course, it does. About 7:30, I ate a light breakfast, minus the toast, but then at lunch time I was hungrier than usual. I had fallen into the habit of having a big salad or soup and sandwich for lunch, but since the early morning toast had thrown me off, I opted for both and vowed to forgo my afternoon snack of grapes. I was so hungry after skipping my afternoon snack that I ate dinner that night at 4:45. I woke up hungry the next morning at 3:50 and had a full breakfast which then caused me to eat a bigger lunch at 10:30 a.m. and dinner around 3 or 4. This process continued for several days until somehow I was eating my Friday breakfast of Cornflakes and toast while I watched Thursday night’s 10 o’clock nightly news with Jerry Lambert and Elizabeth Wooley. Finally I had enough and decided to get out of this vicious circle, which tantamount to borrowing $400 from Check In To Cash loan to pay off the total due on your $250 Pay Day Loans loan (Let’s just pretend that was just a hunch and that I have no actual personal knowledge. Is that cool? Thanks) and I just decided that after almost six months of dieting and learning self-control that I could relax. I decided that this little snafu was a direct result of too much self-denial. I should learn how to allow myself the random treat as long as it was in moderation. Treat number one on my list: ICE CREAM! I love ICE CREAM! It is yummy and cool, sweet and creamy, and quite frankly spectacular in nearly every flavor (Except pumpkin pie flavored ice cream. Who the hell came up with that nonsense?) The point is I love ICE CREAM and had not had any for 6 long months. When I finally had my double scoop of Banana Caramel Walnut Supreme, I was in heaven!!!!.. for about ½ an hour. That is when I was the grumbling started, like a storm in my stomach! I began to pass gas as if it was an Olympic event and I was going for the Gold! It was bizarre! Apparently, somewhere in the passing months I had become lactose intolerant. All of that sacrifice and my reward was gas! What a rip-off (no pun intended)!

However, that was the end of my diet and over the past year I have gain 25 of the 36 lbs. back because I refuse to deny myself any longer. A few weeks ago, I went to McDonald’s and got my yearly Shamrock Shake. (Ooooh, I adore the minty goodness!) I came home, kicked off my shoes, jumped onto my bed (Jack by my side, of course), turned on the Sci-Fi channel, and enjoyed big, green, delicious milkshake! Less than an hour later, I was once again flatulence’s bitch! This time, though, I was prepared; I had the house to myself and nowhere to go. It was just me and Jack… where was Jack? Hiding in the living room, that's where! About a minute or two into my “dance of the bubble guts” he had high-tailed (again, no pun intended) and run. Obviously, my milkshake does NOT bring all the boys to the yard!