The People Who Choose To Love Me

The People Who Choose To Love Me
This is my family. Watermark and all.

Thursday, August 6, 2015

If Obesity Is An Epidemic, Then May Cold Hot Dogs For Breakfast Strike Me Dead

Ever since I was little, weight has been an issue. Not that I was overweight necessarily as a kid, but it was like everyone around me was so consumed with the number on the scale and the size of their jeans, that I don't think a single meal passed without us kids hearing, "I shouldn't be eating this..."

I still struggle with mixed emotions toward food, mainly because I FUCKING LOVE FOOD.

Now, I know people say this all the time, and it's pretty obvious that people love food because we'd die without it, but when I say it, I mean it in a, "I want to make out with you, scribble your Italian pasta last name after my first name on all of my notebooks, dream of you every single night, get proposed to in the middle of an Icelandic field of poppies, elope, consummate our marriage, and have your tiny ravioli babies," kind of way.

He has his father's olive oil toasted  Parmesan skin, just like I'd hoped.

I'm not picky, though, I think is the real problem. I so wish I had the exquisite palate of a foodie, only allowing the finest of truffles, and the most uniquely plated meals, to pass between my lips. I am completely undiscriminating when it comes to food.


Charred meat? I'll eat it.


Cold hot dogs for breakfast? The baby had one and liked it, why not?
How lazy do you have to be to buy something that slices your hotdogs?
It's called a fucking butter knife, people.


Questionable looking sandwich from a gas station?
No one lives forever.


I could sit down to eat any sort of cuisine presented to me and enjoy every moment of eating it with only a few exceptions. Even if someone lied to me and told me blood pudding or fermented duck embryos were something else, I'd try at least a bite and probably like it. My dad told me he has fed me all kinds of woodland creatures under the pretense of it being "chicken," and I loved it. My ex mother-in-law lied to me once and told me I was eating steak and it was actually tongue and, again, loved it. So, the point is, you could probably boil a shoe and tell me it was a traditional dish from my people's land, Czechoslovakia, and I'd compliment the chef on the rubbery texture and delightfully crunchy aglets.

These are called aglets. Who knew they had a name??


Now, knowing that I am a not just a food lover, and may possibly have an eating disorder, I have been trying to workout lately and watch calories and all that jazz. Eating food isn't very much fun when you apply a mathematical equation to it. I don't math, and failed algebra four years in a row. Math B was cool, though.

I have dropped twelve pounds since I have been trying to stay focused on getting healthier and I have another thirty or so pounds to drop to get to my ultimate goal but I would just like to get to the point in my life where I'm not guilt ridden by eating something or forced to sit down and calculate how many minutes on an elliptical machine a western bacon cheeseburger is worth (seventy-three).


 Oh, suuuure, it's fine for this broad to lick BBQ sauce off of her hand, but if I do it, it's uncouth.


Aaaand, restaurant critic is another profession crossed off my list of possible careers.

 The end.


I never leave my home. Please interact with me via social media. 

21 comments:

  1. I love this Shawna. I finally took two minutes out of my day to actually read your blog instead of just like it on FB. I miss your wit and charm. Curse you Arizona and your affordable living for luring my friend away.

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    1. Thanks for reading and sharing. Miss your adorable inappropriateness and your sexy face. xoxo

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  2. So we can both trace our ancestry back to Czechoslovakia. Perhaps this insane love of food and lack of pickiness is a curse our people bear, traceable back to the times when our babičky tilled the field with their bare hands and would eat anything they dug up, but only after frying or pickling it first, because everything's good fried or pickled, or both. Fried pickles, get thee and thy tasty sauce away from me!
    When I was but a wee lad I was part of a school group that stopped at a restaurant that served us calamari for lunch. This was before you could go to McDonald's for a McSquiddy. No one had a clue what "calamari" was, but my fellow pubescents and I tucked into rings of deep-fried goodness and all agreed it was great. Then one of the adults, consulting her travel guide, said, "Oh! This is squid!" And suddenly everyone was pushing their plates away in disgust.
    Everyone but me. I cleaned my plate and polished off what everyone else left unfinished.
    I was working toward a point there but got lost. Does your guide say how much time on the elliptical is needed after a whole plate of calamari?

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    1. Calamari is protein as far as I'm concerned. Delicious, delicious protein. I never count protein. Also, my maiden name Svacina (there's probably supposed to be a loopy thing over the 'c' there) literally translates to "snacktime." What a fucked up last name for a chubby chick, seriously. It's like I was born to eat.

      But, the last name thing is a whole other blog.

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    2. Also, have you given any consideration to what I said before about being long lost siblings???

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    3. I have! And the resemblance is so eerie I think it must be true. Except now I'm no longer the black sheep of the family. Well, that's okay. I've never liked sheep that much.

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    4. Well, since you're willing to accept me as a DNA match, can I borrow some money to pay for my Cheeses Around The World monthly subscription? I'll totally share it with you if you bring the wine!

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    5. How about beer? I think it's the Scottish half of me that makes me strongly prefer hops and malt over grapes. And don't bogart that Stilton!

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    6. IT'S LIKE YOU LIVE INSIDE OF MY BRAIN... I only said wine because my alcoholism shows a little when I tell people, "Pabst is fine."

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  3. Does anyone have a rational relationship with food, I wonder?
    I like that you're talking about this, and I like even more that you have me laughing about this.

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    1. Hey, thanks! I read through your blog the other day and really like your style. Thanks for popping in over here, too! I watched a movie today called The Skeleton Twins and was actually wondering if it was something you'd watched or reviewed.

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    2. Oh, and to answer your question, if anyone ever tells me they have a rational relationship with food I will personally call the FBI and tip them off to a possible serial killer in the vicinity. It's like when you apply for a job on an armored truck and the application asks you if you've ever thought of robbing one. If you answer, "No," you don't get the job because that's obviously a lie.

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  4. I have two long running food love affairs.
    Ice Cream: smooth deliciousness. I once drove thirty miles to Walmart. At midnight. Because the grocery store was closed. For ice cream. I must have at least one carton in my freezer at all times.
    Pizza: At least once a week I make dough in the breadmaker and then make a mile high pizza. I love the cheezh, saucy, pepperonishy, greasy deliciousness. I don't usually eat meat, but pepperoni has me in a full Nelson, and I can't shake it off.

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    1. I am in love with how you describe your relationship with food. If I could be wrestled to the ground by a homemade pizza I'd never leave the house. I'm going to go ahead and put that on my bucket list.

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  5. Ooh, a hotdog slicer! Just when I think modern civilization must surely have reached its pinnacle, it goes that little bit higher.

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  6. Ooh, a hotdog slicer! Just when I think modern civilization must surely have reached its pinnacle, it goes that little bit higher.

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    1. I am going to have to dedicate an entry to inventions like the hotdog slicer and pre-shredded cheese. I know I shouldn't care about what products other people buy, but I get personally offended by how lazy some people are. PRE-DICED ONIONS??? Be a man and cry a little, for christ's sake. Women dig it.

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  7. OK, this is the truth, I just had to scroll through your comments to see if I had left a comment. Because I know that I meant to yesterday but obviously I got distracted. Sad, I know.

    Anway, I think we can all agree that food is one of the best part about being alive. Along with sex. Which is why I think when we eat somthing that is unbelievably delcious that we sometimes say, "This was better than sex." I agree with every word that you wrote in this post. Even the part about the hot dog slicer, which I hadn't seen before. I had seen a banana slicer before, which seemed like the pinnacle of human laziness. I've also seen a special banana carrier in the store. It's like, if you can't transport your banana from home to work without smushing it, then perhaps you need to make different food choices. Like maybe a can of Ensure or something...

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    1. I fucking love you. Ditch the Russian. Things are about to get bi-curious.

      A banana carrier is about the dumbest thing I've ever heard of. And, what the hell happened to taking joy in the small things like de-pitting your own avocado?? Sure, sometimes it sticks and you have to savagely machete it to death and then scrape all of the crap out with your fingers, but that's part of the experience.

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    2. Right back atcha darlin'! Our husbands had better be nice to us because now we have options. What’s funny is that last night I dreamed that I was kissing a girl (I don’t know why!) while Michelle Duggar from the Duggar Family (you know, the super-conservative religious family with 19 kids) watched me in disapproving horror. I don’t know what it all means but it’s kind of a strange coincidence.

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    3. Bwaaaahahahahaha That just made my day!!!

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