Fried Chicken Is Not Considered a Quality Source of Protein?

This is not secret as I think I have mentioned it before. I live in the South. Specifically, Kentucky. And unfortunately most (though certainly not all) of the things you think about when you think "South" are rooted in the truth.
Yes, we say things like "y'all" and "fixin' to". Yes, we love us some big ol' hair. You know, the higher the hair, the closer to Jesus. (by the way that's Jesus with a Y - 'Jay-sus') And besides, the bigger your hair is the smaller your butt looks. Trust us, we know. We still say things like "yes, ma'am" and "no, sir" and "please" and "thank you" and no one thinks you're being excessively polite - except Yankees. On the other hand Southerners have perfected the art of the fake polite. You see when a Southern woman dislikes you, you may never know it until it's too late. We'll slop sugar all over you and say things like "How's your momma been doin'?" or "those are just the cutest shoes!" These things are code for "I've got my eye on you, so don't be trying anything". But when you get the ol' "Well, bless your heart.", especially if it comes with a head tilt - It's too late. The best thing to do is politely excuse yourself and seek cover. That woman surely hates you.
That's not to say that all southern women are just a big ol' bunch of bitches, but we can certainly hold our own. No, in fact, you will never have a truer friend.  When your husband has to work away for a while don't be surprised if your yard just magically gets mowed. When your hound dog gets loose, don't worry. Someone will recognize the mutt and send him home. And if someone that you're even vaguely related to should have the misfortune of dying - expect a casserole promptly at dinner time. Which brings me to my point. Food.
Yes, when you thing Southern you think food. No one ever said, "Ummm, going up North to get me some of that good Northern food." That's ridiculous. The South is famous for it's food the world over and so much of our traditions are steeped in food and/or the preparation of it. You've got tailgating and crawfish boils, church suppers and fried chicken, homemade biscuits and sweet tea, bar-b-que and bourbon,iron skillets and julep cups, cornbread stuffing and Sunday at Mamaws. And Bob knows that there ain't nobody can cook like a Southern Mamaw.
My Mamaw Carolyn could whip up the fluffiest melt-in-your mouth biscuits. Ummmm. Biscuits just ain't been the same since she passed. And you cannot convince a Southern Mamaw that you've had enough to eat.
"No thanks, Mamaw. I believe I'm full."
"La, you didn't hardly eat enough to fill up a bird. Come on now and try some of this. This'll fill you up."
And it's your mamaw and you wouldn't dream of talking back to your mamaw. That's just sass.
So what do you do? How is a person supposed to lose weight when so much of our lives are tied up in food. It's easy for someone to say that you just need to focus on activies where food is not the main attraction. But that's just not the way of life around here. And it's not fair to me, or to my family and friends to exclude myself from situations where I know that I'll be tempted. I just need to have a little stronger will power. Make better choices. Realize that yes, I can have a piece of fried chicken, but only one, and no dessert. Or if I want dessert, then I will have just a bite, and no more. That's really what I'm after anyways. The taste. And wouldn't I rather have a 64 calorie beer when I tailgate than to have no beer at all?
So I guess what I'm saying is that life's all about compromises, y'all. You can have you a biscuit as long as you're fixin' to hit the gym afterwards. And certainly having your hair jacked to Jesus is no harm to nobody. And by all means have you a piece of that peach pie, but now don't you be eyeballin' that pecan pie. BTW a crawfish boil is, funnily enough, one southern tradition NOT steeped in fat and calories. It consists of boiling a big bunch of potatoes and corn and smoked sausage. Then boiling the crawfish (or shrimp if you prefer) in a bunch of spices. Then dump it all out on newspaper and enjoy. As long as you avoid too much of the sausage - Laissez les bons temps rouler!

Alive and Kickin'

I'm back, for those that care. And well, those that don't can go to hell. (RIP Dixie Carter). I took a little break from the blog because, well, I wanted to. No I did not take a break from my eating or exercise plans. But I might as well have for all the good it did me. Or didn't do, as the case would be.
Anyways, the long and the short of it is this. I just today broke through a 5 week (no shit- 5 week) plateau. I think 5 weeks counts more as a stall out and I think my trainer kind of did too, 'cause she suggested I get my thyroid checked. And maybe I will, but just not right now. I lost weight this week, bitches, so suck it, thyroid!
It's really amazing when you think about it, that after a weekend such as I just had that any weight at all was lost. I spent the past month tracking what I was eating like a mad person and doubling up on exercise just to see the scale mock me. Finally I get fed up and say F it and go on a weekend pleasure spree at the horse track and, Voila - plateau busted. Maybe that's what my metabolism needed all along. A swift kick in the arse.
Also said weekend has left me with a severe sunburn and a stuffy nose from what the "bubble-headed bleach blond that comes on at 5" tells me is a record breaking year for tree pollen. How very helpful. But whatever. Not gonna slow me down.
I have a Northwoods lakehouse vacation coming up in 6 weeks, followed by a week at the beach with my babies. Then later in the summer Hubby and I will be taking a second honeymoon to mark our 10th wedding anniversary. So, you see, I need to be in shape.
Last summer I had a bit of a problem staying on track. As this summer looms ahead I am determined not to let that happen again. I am going to come up with some sort of plan and - here's where the details get a little sketchy - I'm gonna stick to it. No, seriously!
Hubby has promised me a shopping trip worthy of Clinton Kelly if I can get to my goal weight and I intend to take him up on it. He's gonna be SORRY. he he he. (you can't see me, but I am greedily rubbing my hands together, while practicing my evil smirk)
Oh, and UPDATE! I killed two birds with one stone. I kicked my magazine habit and with the money I'm saving I hired a cleaning lady. I love her! She only comes once every two weeks, but man! She gets more done on that day than I manage to do the other 13. Girl is good!
So, there you have it. Nothing terribly witty or earth-shattering or even very ironic today. Just back in the groove and feeling pretty good.

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.