I should be well over 300 pounds. Only God's good will, or more likely his good sense of humor, keeps me thin. That's not completely true. What's that? Oh, yeah. I do that a lot. Interrupt one thought with another. You'll learn that about me. No, I don't think it is ADD. Anyway....It isn't completely true, because I rarely sit still. You'll learn that about me too. Yes, I agree, HD (hyperactivity disorder) is likely...have you met my children? Look, can we talk about the fact that I'm squirmy some other time? I want to tell you why I should be fat.
First, let me say...yeah, that's another habit...I tend to preface everything. I'll explain that compulsion later too. I warned you: I'm complicated--I just happen to know myself quite well. Let me say that I love big people: big bones, big personalities, big hugs, large frame, fat and happy, XL, XXL, XXXL, and all. I love people who embrace who they are at any and all sizes. During many ages in history, buxom women and burly men were most desirable. They give the best embraces after all (insert smile here).
I've worn a range of sizes myself: 3 to 16. Yep. My waist grew to 24 inches by my senior year of high school. I'm 5 (ugh, I don't know how to do the feet/inch marks and I know I'll mess it up...) 5feet 10inches tall. Okay. I'm 5feet 9and1/2...I was measured incorrectly one time years ago, so I always just kind of went with it...half an inch is nothing shoes, hairspray, and a good bumpit can't disguise. Anyway, I wore sizes 3,5,6, and 7 through high school. Who cares? Um, everyone in a typical small town high school. I was born with a metabolism that could burn Gibbles potato chips, Big Bite hotdogs, SlimJims, and Zero candy bars (the brand, not the number) like gasoline. Of course, I never sat still then either...part of the reason I was kicked out of my 12th grade English class. Yes, really.
And then, I turned twenty three. I swelled. At first I blamed it on the haircut I regretted. My face just looked fat, because my hair looked so bad (okay, it wasn't that bad--it was actually cute...but I was not). I hate cliches, but the phrase "I ballooned" was the only thing 'fitting' at that point in my life. Months after my wedding, I just assumed that I was pregnant. I was not pregnant. Thyroid disease. Hypothyroidism. A dead (yuck) thyroid butterfly in the back of my throat (egk). But not to fear, a mere pilladayfortherestofmylife and things would work out fine. And, they did...sort of.
Since the thyroid controls most regulatory systems (for lack of any medical knowledge at all), it took over a year for me to become pregnant with Aidan, my son--who like me never sits still. I gained over 40 pounds. I don't really know HOW much more than 40 I gained, because once I hit the 200lb slide on the scales, I simply stopped looking. I just went with the feelings, the cravings, the twenty pounds already established and not going anywhere. I embraced pregnancy, all of of her glorious pounds. And wouldn't you know, it took yet another year to lose all of the weight. I lost all of that and then some, thank you very much. Four years later (time well spent considering what the heck we were supposed to do with these little people--just kidding...) the process repeated itself. 200 pound slide, head turn, reminder to self--you're 5feet10--supermodel height....smile.
Add another year 16, 14, 12, 10, 10, 10 (not a bad number AT all!), 10, 8. 8. 8? 8! 10. Okay. And so it goes. I'm cool with that. Last summer after a ninety degree week in Florida I hit 150. It was a big deal, and it wasn't. 150 is kind of like 5feet 10...who really cares? I'm not in high school anymore. Okay, I guess I sort of am, but I'm definitely NOT climbing up stairs wearing a cheerleading uniform on game days anymore. My body is strong and lean, and curvy, and you know what, the parts of my body that bother me now are the same ones that bothered me twenty years ago. My stomach is flat, and so is my chest (insert laugh here), and I still hate my thighs. But, my kids don't complain when I don my two piece, and neither does my husband. My thyroid is already dead, and I don't plan to have any more children, so I feel good about the next twenty years. Of course, I also realize that the addition of child number two ensured that I sit still less than ever, and I'm okay with that too....butt crunches during dish duty make my life complete.
Oh, and there's a reason why I told you all of this...ha. I love to eat--there are few foods I don't like. Pimento Cheese is one. We are a family of eaters--carnivores. But kids and picky husbands rarely like what Mama likes, which equals frustration. I don't even LIKE to cook, although the recent winters worth of blizzards have allowed opportunity to experiment, something I DO enjoy.
So, for reading to the end, two of my experiments turned recipes. Two recipes actually requested around here...I dont' know if there is anything more flattering to a Mama than having her food requested (smile).
Mexican Hash
(otherwise called 'casserole' because my husband said MY title for it suggests something less legal.)
1lb lean hamburger
1 packet taco seasoning
1 bag countrystyle hashbrowns (the cubed ones)
or Potatos O'Brian (with the peppers and onions--my choice!)
Shredded sharp cheddar cheese at least two cups!
Brown hamburger and add taco seasoning as directed. Add hashbrowns to thaw and mix ingredients. Remove and add to a casserole (hash--lol) pan. Glob shredded cheese on top. Bake. Don't ask me what temperature, because I never know myself...start at 350. If that takes too long, turn it up!
Hot Mama Salsa (from the reaction, "Mama, that's HOT!")
Two Cans Rotel (or similar) Tomatoes with chilies
Cumin
Cilantro
Salt
Pepper
Pinch of sugar if you want to take the bite out
Onion, if anyone in your house will actually eat onions (I make a batch the way I want it. If they don't want to eat it, there's more for me).
I throw it all in a glass bowl and chill. I don't measure. I just taste. I usually drain off the extra tomato juice if I'm serving to a crowd. I've also left the juice in and blended the salsa for a smooth texture.
The salsa is great with some Mexican hash.....
First, let me say...yeah, that's another habit...I tend to preface everything. I'll explain that compulsion later too. I warned you: I'm complicated--I just happen to know myself quite well. Let me say that I love big people: big bones, big personalities, big hugs, large frame, fat and happy, XL, XXL, XXXL, and all. I love people who embrace who they are at any and all sizes. During many ages in history, buxom women and burly men were most desirable. They give the best embraces after all (insert smile here).
I've worn a range of sizes myself: 3 to 16. Yep. My waist grew to 24 inches by my senior year of high school. I'm 5 (ugh, I don't know how to do the feet/inch marks and I know I'll mess it up...) 5feet 10inches tall. Okay. I'm 5feet 9and1/2...I was measured incorrectly one time years ago, so I always just kind of went with it...half an inch is nothing shoes, hairspray, and a good bumpit can't disguise. Anyway, I wore sizes 3,5,6, and 7 through high school. Who cares? Um, everyone in a typical small town high school. I was born with a metabolism that could burn Gibbles potato chips, Big Bite hotdogs, SlimJims, and Zero candy bars (the brand, not the number) like gasoline. Of course, I never sat still then either...part of the reason I was kicked out of my 12th grade English class. Yes, really.
And then, I turned twenty three. I swelled. At first I blamed it on the haircut I regretted. My face just looked fat, because my hair looked so bad (okay, it wasn't that bad--it was actually cute...but I was not). I hate cliches, but the phrase "I ballooned" was the only thing 'fitting' at that point in my life. Months after my wedding, I just assumed that I was pregnant. I was not pregnant. Thyroid disease. Hypothyroidism. A dead (yuck) thyroid butterfly in the back of my throat (egk). But not to fear, a mere pilladayfortherestofmylife and things would work out fine. And, they did...sort of.
Since the thyroid controls most regulatory systems (for lack of any medical knowledge at all), it took over a year for me to become pregnant with Aidan, my son--who like me never sits still. I gained over 40 pounds. I don't really know HOW much more than 40 I gained, because once I hit the 200lb slide on the scales, I simply stopped looking. I just went with the feelings, the cravings, the twenty pounds already established and not going anywhere. I embraced pregnancy, all of of her glorious pounds. And wouldn't you know, it took yet another year to lose all of the weight. I lost all of that and then some, thank you very much. Four years later (time well spent considering what the heck we were supposed to do with these little people--just kidding...) the process repeated itself. 200 pound slide, head turn, reminder to self--you're 5feet10--supermodel height....smile.
Add another year 16, 14, 12, 10, 10, 10 (not a bad number AT all!), 10, 8. 8. 8? 8! 10. Okay. And so it goes. I'm cool with that. Last summer after a ninety degree week in Florida I hit 150. It was a big deal, and it wasn't. 150 is kind of like 5feet 10...who really cares? I'm not in high school anymore. Okay, I guess I sort of am, but I'm definitely NOT climbing up stairs wearing a cheerleading uniform on game days anymore. My body is strong and lean, and curvy, and you know what, the parts of my body that bother me now are the same ones that bothered me twenty years ago. My stomach is flat, and so is my chest (insert laugh here), and I still hate my thighs. But, my kids don't complain when I don my two piece, and neither does my husband. My thyroid is already dead, and I don't plan to have any more children, so I feel good about the next twenty years. Of course, I also realize that the addition of child number two ensured that I sit still less than ever, and I'm okay with that too....butt crunches during dish duty make my life complete.
Oh, and there's a reason why I told you all of this...ha. I love to eat--there are few foods I don't like. Pimento Cheese is one. We are a family of eaters--carnivores. But kids and picky husbands rarely like what Mama likes, which equals frustration. I don't even LIKE to cook, although the recent winters worth of blizzards have allowed opportunity to experiment, something I DO enjoy.
So, for reading to the end, two of my experiments turned recipes. Two recipes actually requested around here...I dont' know if there is anything more flattering to a Mama than having her food requested (smile).
Mexican Hash
(otherwise called 'casserole' because my husband said MY title for it suggests something less legal.)
1lb lean hamburger
1 packet taco seasoning
1 bag countrystyle hashbrowns (the cubed ones)
or Potatos O'Brian (with the peppers and onions--my choice!)
Shredded sharp cheddar cheese at least two cups!
Brown hamburger and add taco seasoning as directed. Add hashbrowns to thaw and mix ingredients. Remove and add to a casserole (hash--lol) pan. Glob shredded cheese on top. Bake. Don't ask me what temperature, because I never know myself...start at 350. If that takes too long, turn it up!
Hot Mama Salsa (from the reaction, "Mama, that's HOT!")
Two Cans Rotel (or similar) Tomatoes with chilies
Cumin
Cilantro
Salt
Pepper
Pinch of sugar if you want to take the bite out
Onion, if anyone in your house will actually eat onions (I make a batch the way I want it. If they don't want to eat it, there's more for me).
I throw it all in a glass bowl and chill. I don't measure. I just taste. I usually drain off the extra tomato juice if I'm serving to a crowd. I've also left the juice in and blended the salsa for a smooth texture.
The salsa is great with some Mexican hash.....
Copyright © 2011. Carrie Ellen
Campbell. All Rights Reserved. http://carriellencampbell.blogspot.com. Please respect Carrie's intellectual property. Sharing
blog posts is permitted, but no part of this material may be copied,
downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Contact
Carrie at: carrieellencampbell@icloud.com.
Comments
Post a Comment