I read that Britney Spears got her body back by cutting out all sugars. She doesn’t even eat fruit. What a sucky, sucky life she must lead.
I, on the other hand, make sure to maintain quality of life by getting my fill of sugar, every day. Sugar in my coffee, sugar in my jelly-slathered toast/cereal that claims to be good for you when in fact it is not, sugar in my fake-healthy granola bar, sugar in my thrice-weekly cherry coke, and of course, the natural sugars in the five servings of fresh fruit I’ll just die if I don’t have on a daily basis. Is there sugar in wine? What about cookies?
Sugar is on my personal top ten list of THINGS I LOVE ABOUT THE WORLD. I really ought to cut back, really, I should, but then what’s the point of even living? I’m at a standstill as far as the whole post-baby body goes, but I’ll be damned if I go on a sugar free diet in order to jumpstart my weight loss. I’d rather try something totally radical, like working out, or sawing huge chunks of fat straight off my body with a kitchen knife.
Anyway. Today is Sunday. Caleb is sick–with the same little cold that Mia came down with, with the same little cold that I toyed with for about 2 seconds, but for some reason, he’s absolutely dying. Dying, I tell you. He can’t get up without feeling dizzy. He’s drinking Gatorade like it’s going out of style. His throat is scratchy and his eyes are puffy and there’s kleenex all over the bedroom, where he’s pretty much parked himself the past 2 days. And the thing that pisses me off is that he’s not faking. He’s really in bad shape. So I have to feel sorry for him, and when he says he’s going to go lay down and watch a movie because he "needs a break," I have to let him, and I can’t say anything. Man. I wish I had gotten sick enough for a break.
Honestly, I’m just giving him a hard time. I find it funny that he’s so ill. Although maybe I shouldn’t; after all, when one lives on coffee, Dr. Pepper, and the occasional sandwich, one is bound to catch anything and everything his preschooler brings home. Cheyenne and I are taking what I like to call "Magic Pills", or prenatal vitamins. Is it okay to feed my 12-year-old prenatals? It’s just a billion vitamins and minerals all rolled up into one little pink capsule. I don’t really care, because all I know is that they’re keeping us both so un-sick it’s ridiculous. I thought about crushing some up and putting it into Caleb’s Gatorade…now that might yield some interesting results.
And on a side note, I think it’s safe to officially announce that Caleb…has…quit smoking. I hesitated to say anything at all for a while because I didn’t want to jinx him, and I did catch him stealing a cigarette or two here and there since he first started fighting the good fight back in May, but I’m proud of my husband, damnit.
So congrats, Caleb, on finally killing your habit. Maybe now you, too, can have the crazy-good immunity that Cheyenne and I both enjoy. And maybe now you can give me some tips for dealing with my sugar addiction.