watching what I eat

And I don't mean me watching what I eat.

A foodie watching what they eat just means they look at it and marvel at the pure beauty of the creation in front of them.

Sometimes they have a ridiculous look of excitement on their face.

only THE best mushroom ravioli in a sage butter sauce EVER

Or they just plain old take pictures of their food...

mmm..tempura

or with their food...

that's a big paella!

...no matter where they are...like their own wedding (I.have.problems)...

photo by Allure West Studios

or they will even go so far as make out with their food (serious.problems.people)

I heart you Mr. Crawfish..now get in mah belly!

So, yah...that's how I watch what I eat.  Oh and I am totally not nekkid in that ~> pic I swear...although it would be funny considering I'm making out with my food...but I digress...

I'm talking about almost everyone else watching what I eat...or rather how much I eat.  And how I dress (I like flowy styles), and what I do.  You see, we still live in a world that believes for the most part, the order of adulthood is as such:

Go to school ~> graduate ~> get a job ~> fall in love ~> get engaged ~> get married ~> buy a house....have a baby.

Here's the thing about that timeline, the things that come after graduating school and getting a job are choices, not requirements (ok maybe falling in love is not a choice we make).  And they happen not according to anyone's 'plan'...they just happen when they happen.  Moving on...

So we've done all of the above, except for the baby part.  And for some dang reason, people are starting to watch my eating habits and waistline a bit more closely.  Here's a thought, maybe I just like food and am getting fat (ok, time to start running again!). Honestly, I don't really mind, I actually find it kind of funny.  For instance, this past weekend we went to another couple's (who happen to be preggers - so excited for them!) house for a party and here's how some of my conversations went:

Convo #1

Friend 1: Hey

me: Hey.  Oooo chicken wings! Yum!

Friend 1: So how are you guys doing?

me: (snarf...munch munch) We're good. mmm chicken wings (less talk, more eat!)

Friend 1: So...(looking at me funny as I devour a chicken wing nearly whole)...

me: (pausing to notice this glance)...ummm....hold on, let me chug this beer

Convo #2

Friend 2: How are you guys? Haven't seen you in awhile!

me: We're good.  House is good, keeps us busy...ooo bacon and cheese dip! mmm bacon.

Friend 2: So what are you drinking there?

me: Beer...see watch me chug it!

Friend 2: Hmm...is that really beer, are you sure you didn't put water in there?

me: (grabs friend's beer) chug...chug..chug

Convo #3

Friend 3: Hi!

me: Hey...going out for a smoke*.  Toss me a beer will ya?

This is pretty much for reals the conversations I had.  I chugged A LOT of beer that night!

Now don't get me wrong.  We want to have a baby.  The itch crept up on me quickly after my birthday and around the time most of our house was furnished.  And maybe that itch has meant I've been talking about babies more.  OK, so maybe I'm ready...Hubster, on the other hand, is not quite there yet.  And since it's so important that both people are on the same page...we're waiting a bit.  And I'm OK with that.  In the meanwhile, I just treat our Latte like she's our baby.  Our furry, spastic, bark at anything baby who may or may not be wearing one of Daddy's shirts like it's a christening gown (again, problems).

Momma...you crazy with a capital 'C'

But until I actually am preggers, I might need to walk around in spandex with a glass of wine in one hand and a Starbucks in the other.  Or a T-shirt that says, 'Nope...Not Yet'

*it's a nasty habit I partake in when I drink a lot

{ cindie }