Super Bowl Slut

Here it is. My walk of shame.
Again.
But I will admit it. I am a slut for football. I just generally love the game. I love the chill in the air of an outside game (I don't know who decided that football should be played inside a dome, but they were wrong). I love the crash of helmuts and the sound of the chains being dragged up and down the sidelines (still not a fan of the CGI line). And then, of course, there are the football pants. I am a firm believer that everyone's backside is imroved by football pants.
And, naturally, there is football food.
I do love me some football food. Super Bowl Sunday in our house is always a very big deal. We try to base our menu around whatever team it is we are cheering for. Admitedly, though, when one is trying to lose weight football food may not be the best way to go. Last year wasn't so bad. We were for the Saint's (who wasn't?) so we put out some jambalaya and it was awesome.
This year though I was doubly damned. See my beloved Green Bay Packers were competing in the biggest game of the season. Now before you even start, I am NOT one of those fair weather fans who jump on the bandwagon during good seasons and off during the bad. I have loves the Packers pre-Favre and post. By the way, Favre who? Aaron Rodgers owns that team!
And, yes, I suppose the Steelers don't technically suck. And Troy Polamalu's hair does seem to have magical powers - kind of like a unicorn. But that doesn't mean that when my Packers are involved, I wouldn't stick a big ol' wad of chewing gum in it.



However, back to the issue at hand. In the spirit of total Packer celebration I served brats and cheese and beer. It. Was. Awesome!
Today, though. . .not so much. I haven't eaten like that in a while. I have been eating more fresh foods and cutting out the processed junk. I have been trying to cut out pop and haven't had a beer in - I don't even know how long. Probably the last time I was in Wisconsin. So needless to say, today I feel a little bit sluggish.
Slow.
Bloated.
Gross.
How did I ever eat like that all the time? Oh yeah, I felt like crap all the time. Hmmmm . . .
I had been looking for a little jolt for a while now. Something that would help inspire me and keep me on track. Turns out going completely off track for a weekend was the only way to get back on. Getting a glimpse of how I used to feel all the time has helped me focus in on why I am doing this in the first place.
So today I woke up as a devoted fan of Super Bowl Champions, Green Bay Packers. And yes, I woke up bloted and craptacular, but I woke up with a renewed focus and drive to do this thing.

Maybe Baby???

No, don't pass out. I said that I was not having any more children and I meant it. The two I have, the wonderful little weirdos, are quite enough - thank you very much. No, I was actually thinking of starting my own from-home business. BabyCakes Custom Cupcakes. Whadaya think?
Yes, I know cupcakes are not by any stretch of the imagination diet food. But I'm not on a diet, anyways. And as far as I'm concerned a cupcake free existance is not a life I'm willing to contemplate. Woman cannot live by lettuce alone! Believe me, I've tried.
Now, hear me out. I want to use all natural and organic ingredients and show that while cupcakes may never be called health food, they don't have to be toxic either. No one should feel guilty about eating a sweet every now and then. After all, kids aren't going to quite having birthday parties, graduations,and school parties. And unfortunately well-meaning friends of brides and new moms are not going to stop throwing showers. I do hate a shower, but that's another story. Suffice it to say that I am all for celebrating milestones, but I will buy you a much nicer gift if I don't have to guess the new babies name and drink flat punch from a paper cup. Just sayin'
So my new business would consist of custom cupcake orders. People could pick them up at my house, meet me in town, or I would even be willing to deliver them to local schools and/or businesses. I don't like to brag, but I can make a cupcake taste or look like just about anything.  I can make the cutest baby shower cupcakes that look like a big nursery full of sleeping babies - ironic, I know. I have versions for every major holiday. And if you have a favorite flavor, I can do that too. A particular favorite is mint julep. Another is root beer float. Just think of the possibilities.
And as for killing my weight loss goals. I don't think so. I'm one of those people that can't look at something the same way after I've worked with it. I once worked at Fazolli's Italian Restaraunt. Yum!, right. Well, it was my job to make the breadsticks. Their famous garlic butter breadsticks. I don't think I have to tell you that it didn't take me very long to become heartily sick of breadsticks. I still can't eat them.
That's not to say that I'm likely to forever swear off cupcakes. It's just that if I am going to spend all day making 3 dozen basketball cupcakes for a local team, I'm not going to be likely to nosh on them.
I'm still not sure. But after much consideration, I think I'm gonna go for it. It has very little investment, virtually no overhead, and it's something that I'm not only good at, but that I actually enjoy.
I'll offer more info as it comes. For now keep your eyes peeled for BabyCakes!

Oh, For Shame!

Had a relatively busy morning this morning culminating in a run-by trip to the Wal-Mart. Which as you know, you can never quite just run in and get anything at the Wal-Mart. It always turns into an hour long "Oh yeah, and I need to pick up . . . " trip and a big fat chunk out of my checking account. And yes, I always refer to it as 'The Wal-Mart'. I know it's hick as hell, but I do so hate that place. I hate it more because I need it. I know that they are socially corrupt and I really shouldn't patron 'The Wal-Mart' but when you live in super small town Eastern Kentucky like I do, sometimes you just have no choice. I would love to fight the power, so to speak. But I can't, I'm just too hungry.
Which brings me back to my original point. I finished up my shopping and pulled my semi-cart into the lane. Sadly not the express lane. Only at 'The Wal-Mart' would they recognize the futility of anyone getting out of there with less than 20 items. I think it's only a myth. But I digress. Again.
So I'm in line. And I'm feeling kind of hungry. I get my usual Diet Mt. Dew, which I know is still horrible for me, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made. But I'm still thinking I'm hungry. Danger! Danger, Will Robinson! But do I listen? Do I make the smart choice and head to the conveniently connected SubWay for a Jared approved healthy lunch? Nooooo, I do not.
I grab . . . (wait for it) . . . the Combos.
That most hateful of all junk foods. Oh, I am helpless to resist them. Which is, I suspect why they are located right next to the Slim Jims and National Enquirer. There must be so many out there like me. But even then, I don't realize that I am making a poor decision. It is only later when I am halfway down the road and almost all the way through the bag, that I realize what a truly stupid stupid thing I have done.
True, it does not rate up there with the buffalo chicken wing-fest I had the day after New Years. Or even the fine German restaurant located temptingly close to my brother's new house. On the everyday bone-head move scale though, it certainly rates right up there.
I indulged in about an hours worth of self-loathing, before I realized what a slippery slope that was and snapped out of it. I will just have to do better next time. I will have to make smarter choices for the rest of the week. Hummus and baked pita chips are just as delicious as Combos. They are. They really are, I swear.
I will chalk it up to just one more reason why I should avoid 'The Wal-Mart'. Along with the ridiculously low priced cheesy poufs and the lure of the take and bake pizza. I will just have to burn a little extra gas and haul my ass to the nearest Target, where I know there will still be Combos, but at least I will already be feeling a little more socially responsible. It is easy to avoid the cheesy pretzel goodness when I am not already hovering a Pig Pen like cloud of shame.