Blog Entry #3
To your right are just a few of the bags my mom brings to my home. How on earth she manages to LOSE weight as she gets older, I'll never understand, but she has the constitution of a 30 year old Viking. It almost makes me look forward to being 82.
I BEG her not to bring these awful, sugary, salty, gooey, crunchy, nutty, salty, fruity, chocolaty, nougaty, caramely, moist, creamy, glazed, frosted, filled, dipped, fried and sometimes “fat free” temptations into my home. She can't do it. It's my crack and she's my dealer. Look at her! Who could resist that sweet, innocent face? She charges me room and board for the time it takes to empty the bag. One week later she's back again with her stash. I now have to do a SWAT surveylance after her visits. I don't believe in guns, so I use the extension claw that my Aunt Eva left behind after she passed away. Hey, I'm 5'4". Unless you have my resume. Then, I'm 5'5".
I am at my mother's house right now and she is making tenderloin steaks, broccoli, salad, (great so far), and ORIDA FROZEN FRIES that will be my 2nd undoing in 24 hours if I give in. And for those of you saying “just have a few!” I laugh manically in your eyebrow-raised-I-have-all-of-the-answers, face!
There is no such thing as “a few” in the food addicted Zarzour bunker. It's all or nothing because the war is raging in Europe and we have to eat ALL of our rations no matter how old they are!
See that bag of Krispy Kreme donuts to the left? I mean, do you know anyone else on the planet who actually uses that label strip on their Glad Bags? Oh stop it. You do not! But now you can say "Oh yeah, Jean's mom does that!" Mom says she's "a little OCD". It's ironic that it's called a DISORDER when the people who do this want anything BUT disorder and their attempt to be orderly becomes a disorder. *weary sigh*.
Depression era babies cannot get enough food in their cupboards, frig's, basement pantry's or anywhere else they can stow it. My dad did the same thing. I say,"it's their fallout shelter and they can hoard if they want to" - Just not where I can sniff it out, OK?
I'm home now, enjoying (not at all) a bowl of celery, carrot and red pepper strips to stave off the late night munchies as I write the last of today's entry. Later today, I will watch the President take his oath of office for a second term. As they swear him in, I, Jean-Marie Zarzour, will solemnly swear to faithfully execute anyone who leaves junk food at my home and to stay away from my mom's Green Monsters filled with the equivalent of a one night stand in the form of junk food. So help me God. Or Jenny Craig.
Some of what Lay's on my BIG ASS!
My big ass weakness for foods that are covered in salt or sugar knows no expiration date, so that means I cannot eat anything that my mother brings into my house.
My mom stays at my home at least 2 days per week, and with her comes no fewer than 5 green, Marc's shopping bags filled with one of her versions of love. Most of the time she takes whatever is left in these Green Monsters back home with her, but there is always one stray bag of something I shouldn't eat that gets left behind, which I eventually discover...like these Lay's chips. Most went into the trash, but plenty landed on my BIG ASS!
To your right are just a few of the bags my mom brings to my home. How on earth she manages to LOSE weight as she gets older, I'll never understand, but she has the constitution of a 30 year old Viking. It almost makes me look forward to being 82. 
I BEG her not to bring these awful, sugary, salty, gooey, crunchy, nutty, salty, fruity, chocolaty, nougaty, caramely, moist, creamy, glazed, frosted, filled, dipped, fried and sometimes “fat free” temptations into my home. She can't do it. It's my crack and she's my dealer. Look at her! Who could resist that sweet, innocent face? She charges me room and board for the time it takes to empty the bag. One week later she's back again with her stash. I now have to do a SWAT surveylance after her visits. I don't believe in guns, so I use the extension claw that my Aunt Eva left behind after she passed away. Hey, I'm 5'4". Unless you have my resume. Then, I'm 5'5". I am at my mother's house right now and she is making tenderloin steaks, broccoli, salad, (great so far), and ORIDA FROZEN FRIES that will be my 2nd undoing in 24 hours if I give in. And for those of you saying “just have a few!” I laugh manically in your eyebrow-raised-I-have-all-of-the-answers, face!
There is no such thing as “a few” in the food addicted Zarzour bunker. It's all or nothing because the war is raging in Europe and we have to eat ALL of our rations no matter how old they are!
Depression era babies cannot get enough food in their cupboards, frig's, basement pantry's or anywhere else they can stow it. My dad did the same thing. I say,"it's their fallout shelter and they can hoard if they want to" - Just not where I can sniff it out, OK?
I'm home now, enjoying (not at all) a bowl of celery, carrot and red pepper strips to stave off the late night munchies as I write the last of today's entry. Later today, I will watch the President take his oath of office for a second term. As they swear him in, I, Jean-Marie Zarzour, will solemnly swear to faithfully execute anyone who leaves junk food at my home and to stay away from my mom's Green Monsters filled with the equivalent of a one night stand in the form of junk food. So help me God. Or Jenny Craig.
