let the good times roll

WARNING: The following blog contains non-inspiring information for anyone trying to lose weight. Also, if you are a health fanantic, I won't be offended if you leave a comment about how sad I am. I already know.

I think there are too many skinny Moms and not enough "jolly" Moms. And by jolly, I mean overweight and still happy with their life. I have decided to be jolly until I get to a point when I can even add one more stress to my life, that stress of all stresses that is trying to lose weight.
Do you know that I walk around not realizing that I'm fat? I don't really feel overweight at all until I see a reflection of myself in some surface and then I'm like, "Oh, yeah, I forgot I was fat." Everyone who checks themselves out on the doors of the freezer section of Wal-Mart as they are walking by, please raise your hand. Do you honestly know what I think? I think, "I'm not really that bad off, if I would just lose 30 pounds or so." Then, on the way home, when I'm drinking my Diet Coke and eating a candy bar as a consolation prize to myself for taking all 4 kids into the store by myself, I will make a plan for eating more healthy and excercising regularly. Then I get home and my husband is like, "I'll see you at 11 p.m., I've got to go to the school and write my lesson plans and grade papers." Then Adam starts crying. Then I look around at the DISASTER that my house is in and think about how I'm going to get it clean in time for my babysitting and piano students the next day. Then the neighborhood kids knock on the door for the 11th time (I wish this was an exaggeration) wanting to know if my kids can play. At my house, of course. Then I remember that my husband teaches high school so we don't even have a clothing budget if I should ever get skinny. It is about this time that I get the brownie mix out of the pantry that I just bought at the store because I used my Jedi force talent to forsee all of the above events while I was in the baking aisle of Wal-Mart debating whether or not to buy the aforementioned brownie mix. To top this off, Jesse likes fat girls. This means that he legitimately thinks I'm hot. So I'll use a math equation to honor my math teacher husband. Brownies taste good + Jesse likes my body = I love my life. So let the good times roll: sweet roll, cinnamon roll, dinner roll, fat roll. Roll baby roll.

I should make a disclaimer that I only mistreat myself and try to hide it from my kids because I don't want to teach them my bad habits. They love yogurt and apples for after school snacks. So I'm not all that of a bad Mom.