Where I explain when it is appropriate to wear an adjective across my actual ass.

Friends, I am SO SORRY for my virtual absence, but I ate the Internet.


Not really, but it kind of feels like it--which leads me to this post, inspired by the VERY REASONS one should never go on a 40-calorie hot-dog diet in the weeks prior to the holidays.


Let me take you back to G's ACTUAL birthday (Nov. 22), and my husband's plan to bake TWO yellow pound cakes with fudge icing.  TWO.  Funny thing, turns out we only needed one-half of ONE cake, because my brother and sister-in-law went on an ACTUAL diet (versus the stupid hot dog kind), and they don't eat cake anymore.  You know I'm not good with math, but by my calculations, this left me with like, 9.4 cakes remaining for me to eat straight out of the pan with a fork.


'Cause, you know, when you have been eating fat-free preservatives for THREE WEEKS straight, fudge cake has the addictive power of crack cocaine.  Chased with several meals worth of pot roast.


So, there's the cake and the pot roast...and the egg casserole we make on Thanksgiving morning, and what-the-hell, maybe a couple of cinnamon rolls out of a tube.  And more cake.  And possibly a few of those McDonald's holiday pies, which, as it turns out, are only 250 calories--not the 950 origianally guessed, because they are sugar cookies full of custard and sold at McDONALDS--so this is like an omen of good measure, because what we have learned here is that holiday pies are practically a diet food, and you could *technically* eat four of them and five, 40-calorie, fat-free hot dogs a day, and it might still be possible to lose weight.  WHAT????


Baby carrots and holiday pies are the diet loop hole.  Just kidding, NO THEY'RE NOT.


Well, suddenly it's Thanksgiving and there is "Pumpkin Crunch", which is like pumpkin pie, but with sh#! loads of butter; so on top of turkey and stuffing and green beans swimming in ENTIRE cans of creamy mushroom soup, there was 3-4 pieces of extra-fatty pie.  By 10:15 p.m. on November 24th, I officially realized that I had not gone longer than 3.6 minutes without shoving a dessert food or something made with a creamy soup into my mouth, ALL DAY LONG.


Go HARD or Go HOME or eat the WHOLE damn pie, is what they say, and so I started the day after Thanksgiving with TWO pieces of cold pumpkin crunch and a zit on my forehead that I suspect was REALLY a fatty tumor growing out of my actual brain.  If you knew us when we had our beagle, then you would know that sometimes when fat has no where to go, it pushes into the tail--or forehead acne, as the case may be.  Whatever.  I was gonna rock that freaking look, but doing so required two solid-meals worth of leftover pumpkin crunch washed down with 106-ounces of diet coke AND a holiday pie for good measure, PLUS a pair of pants made out of velour.  Check and check.  


This general theme of NO self control continued throughout the weekend, growing less organic EVERY hour.  And I still blame those stupid hot dogs for leaving me needy and vulnerable--and therefore responsible for sending me into a six-week spiral that ends with me having diabetes on Christmas.  


Here's hoping Santa sends insulin and a liposuction machine.  Welcome to the holidays, FRIENDS!!