My Husband is a Lurker

Usually, when I write my blog, my husband is not at home. He's normally in class, or off bringing home the bacon.


But these past few days, he's been on spring break. Which means when I sit down to start my blog, he's here. Which is WONDERFUL on so many levels....except one.


Here is an example of a conversation like we've had every morning since Sunday.


B: So, what are you going to blog about today?
A: I'm not sure.
B: Really? Do you need some ideas?
A: Sure. What have you got?
B: You could blog about the cats. Or music. Or you could blog about me. Tell them how great I am.
A: Funny. Ha ha. Really, though, I love your ideas. I actually already know what I'm going to write about today, but thanks for the ideas.
B: Oh yeah? What are you going to write about today?
A: You'll see.
B: Can't you just tell me?
A: No, because then it wouldn't be as funny.
B: Yes, it will.
A: No, it won't.
B: Yes, it will. Why wouldn't it be funny if you tell me first?
A: Because you won't have all the visuals I have planned. I want you to experience it like a reader, not like my husband.
B: Ok. I'll wait. (pouty face)


Thirty minutes later, and I'm totally in my Photoshop groove. Music's going, pictures are cropped and red-eye reduced, and I'm looking for graphics I can use for the day. Then I hear...


B: Are you looking at pictures of Richard Simmons?
A: Yes.
B: Is Richard Simmons going to be in your blog today?
A: Maybe.
B: So THAT means you're going to be writing about weight loss, right?
A: Perhaps.
B: Unless he's going to be helping you wash your face. Or maybe he's going to meet Manny? That's IT! Richard Simmons is going to wash Manny's face, right???
A: (Sigh.)


Forty-five minutes later, my Photo-shopping is done. Funny pictures are resized, cropped and saved, and I'm ready to get my writing on. Just when I'm concentrating on the perfect pun, I hear...


B: Hey, pretty lady. I love you.
A: Aw, thanks sweetie. I love you, too.
B: No, I really, really, REALLY love you.
A: I really, really, REALLY love you, too.
B: I love you to the moon and back with a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck.
A: No take backs. (Smile.)
B: Really?
A: Really.
B: Sweet. So....what are you blogging about today?
A: Honey...
B: Ok, ok, I'll stop. I'll leave you alone now. Just tell me when you're done, ok?




A few minutes later I hear footsteps in the kitchen behind me. Followed by a very manly snicker. And when I look over my shoulder I see this:

Yes, he's adorable. And he's very smart. Sometimes....I might even tell him what the blog topic for the day is going to be.


Maybe if he sings to me, I'll tell him.


And I LOVE that he's so into my blog. I love that he looks forward to reading it everyday. It makes me so happy when he shares it with his friends, or puts it on Facebook. I mean, he's supportive in every single way, so I'm not surprised. He really is the most wonderful husband on the planet. (No, you can't have him. He's mine. All MINE!)


But you see, I know he's not reading this as I'm typing it. And I get to look forward to his reaction as he reads it. So in a way, making him wait isn't just for him, it's for me, too.


Just now:
B: Wow, babe. Those keys are really banging away. I guess you found your muse for today's blog."


You bet I did, honey. And it's YOU! 


Today's post is dedicated to my husband. The Lurker.

Bacon is Diet Food...Right?

Apparently, starting a diet on January 1st isn't the best idea.


I mean, January's pretty easy, because you're all gung-ho. Mantras include "I can do it!" and "This isn't so hard!" and " I am Shera!"

It's okay. You can laugh. I did.

Then February rolls around.....and BAM--the 8th is the hubs' birthday. Dinner out somewhere sinful. Climb back up on the bandwagon and a few days later....BAM--it's Valentine's Day. Mandatory romantic dinner, again, somewhere sinful. And chocolate. Don't forget chocolate.


By the end of February, I'm feeling not as slim as I'd hoped. In fact, I'm feeling slightly rotund. Somewhat chunky. A little bit bloated. And a LOT guilty.


Now here I am, two weeks into March, and the bad habits have returned in full force. Chick-Fil-A? You got it. Donuts and coffee? Yep. Don't say the "S" word...(soda)...The Coca Cola Company is my arch-nemesis.


And apparently, my shiny sword cannot defeat the consumption of empty calories on its own.


Which is a shame, because it can do lots of other things. You know, typical sword-y type things: it glows in the dark, it's crucial for impaling evildoers, and you've never seen thinner slices of tomato in your life.


The truth is, when I'm three months in and the scale isn't really budging that much, I lose my confidence, my drive. My will to live. (Just kidding.) Logically, I know that I could be doing better. My workouts could be more difficult, my calorie counting could be, well, existent, and my meals could be healthier.


Emotionally, I just feel like a complete and utter failure.


When it gets to this point for me, it's like there's an evil little fuzz monster sitting on my shoulder, yelling horrible things at me. 

Mean Fuzzy Monster. I don't like you.

This little monster continually berates me, beats me up, leaves me feeling abused. Ultimately, it reminds me over and over and over again how many times I've failed at weight loss. He's not a fun buddy to have around. (And no one can see him but me, which makes the time I spend hurling curses in his direction somewhat fruitless. And I imagine I look somewhat schizophrenic.)


I need to find a way to replace the evil little fuzz monster with something more cheery. An image that will not only scrub those mean little messages out of my brain, but that will also replace them with happy, healthy, "You Can DO It" messages.


Eureka! I've got it!

Goodbye, evil little fuzz monster. Hello, Richard Simmons!

That's just the pick-me-up I needed! Thanks, Richard!