I pray my various personalities present themselves in a timely fashion prior to my next blog. “Lord, hear my prayer.” However, this is not always the case. Sometimes “they” need a shad more “marination” before making their appearance. “Fat girl” always has something to say so she tends to be my front facing bitch. Always up to no good and no progress. Fat people are reliable if nothing else. So we are running with “her” again. Let’s face it…she could use some running…
I told my husband I was making pot roast on Sunday night bcs comfort food season is coming to a close. It’s these little white (southern “whuhite”) lies that please me greatly. Is it really a lie? I mean…I won’t be making pot roast in July. More than likely I’ll be swapping it out with a fat cousin such as potato salad or deviled eggs. Gravy for mayo is not only a fair trade but trickery at it’s finest. That is until Dukes sold their mayonnaise empire and made every Southern woman lose her shit! I tell ya what…for folks who claim NOT to be food aggressive, we sure do get attached to our condiments. Dukes, Hellman’s, Miracle Whip…. don’t get me started on Ketchup! Jesus take the actual wheel…there are people starving in the world and y’all can’t agree on who gets the pleasure of being on top?! For the record I’m a Duke/Heinz kinda gal. Queue the hate mail. Pot roast is the lazy meal of every woman who never wanted to cook in the first place. Throw a slab of meat in the crock, add a stick of butter, some spices and walk the fuck away! It makes its own gravy, falls apart at the touch and pleases my husband greatly***Note: add taking over of sexual duties to my love of the roast affectionately named “Chuck.” ***OK that got weird. I’m going to rename it “Chick” roast in an effort to save my marriage. Moving right along…
I had to go to the store for supplies. I hate going to the store. I am a notorious over-buyer. Thank you, Mother. I grew up with a Mother who stock piled everything in case anything happened. Or because it was on sale and surely would never be again. Ask me how many Hungryman TV dinners were in our freezer (circa 1982) at any given time. Issues. I would like to tell you I broke the cycle but I currently have 18 bottles of Rao’s pasta sauce in my pantry. Good times. Going to the grocery store makes me hungry. “They” say to eat first. As if that makes a difference. If I smell glorious smells that do not exist in my home, my pores begin oozing with unbridled affection. For this reason I always get a large shopping cart. I’ve done the hand cart juggle. Not only is juggling a skill I do not possess, but I also look like a big fat ass when I have to trade up for the larger cart. Bigger is better ladies. I’ve tried to shop the outer aisles as suggested by people who weigh much less than me. However, what I need does not live in the baron wasteland that are the “outer aisles.” Much like my inner fatty…the inner aisles call to me. I need the fast track to Little Debbie and her band of sugar filled gangsters. I had already started my decent into the bowels of Publix when I spotted someone I knew. Not ideal. I don’t care what bitches say, they are always lookin’ all up in your cart judging. So, I made my move to the veggie aisle post haste. You should know, I’m sufficiently crossed trained for these situations. Except I didn’t follow my own rule as I was carrying a hand cart. Because all I needed was butter, meat and spices. It’s not all about need sisters. The want will take you down!
I made it appear I was sizing up cucumbers for some sort of culinary pleasure when she noticed me. ***TIP: Always notice before being noticed…. gives you time to pregame.*** I took the hand cart full of contraband and placed it behind me sort of resting on the veggies. I believed my “goods” to be out of sight. Just as we started chatting the vegetables decided this was a great time for a bath. Is it me or does this happen every damn time you need a freakin pepper?! Can they not bathe after hours? Processed food is so much more civilized. Little Debbie was getting a Ho bath and wont shit I could do about it. I just kept talking hoping my friend wouldn’t notice my wet hairy arms dripping all over Lil’ Debbie’s bonnet. Poor Debbie was drowning in my lies and I needed to do something quick. I made a strategic move and said I had to go pick up a sub from the deli. If I was really on my game, I woulda said salad but I was soggy and panicked. I failed to mention I was outsourcing lunch as well. The Lords Day is an occasion to be celebrated.
I couldn’t wait to get home and eat my sub. “My” is code for mine and my husbands. I’m not into sharing but I understand downing a 12” sub can appear aggressive. Imagine my surprise when I opened said sub to find an uneven divide between my half and his half. Yes, I notice these things. I didn’t need to break out the measuring tape to see the zit faced Publix sandwich maker had done me a HUGE disservice. Unfortunately, I forgot to use my inside voice when announcing my displeasure. My husband graciously offered to take the smaller half. Have I ever felt so fat in all my life? Well yes, but that’s not the point. I told him I was just joking…that I must be getting my period…moody n all. For the record I haven’t had a period since 2017. I feel I earned that tool in my box even if no longer applicable…mmmkkkay. So you know what I did right? When he turned around I cut some off the bigger half and ate it real quick so we both had equal portions. See he wouldn’t notice a thing like that. While men aren’t listening, they are also forgetting. Some of their less desirable qualities come in handy from time to time…. Fat girl =1 Husband = 0.
While my “Chick” roast was meant to mark the end of winter comfort meals, I feel like I might could sneak another one in there. Macaroni and cheese is a good cross over dish that I can bust out for verging seasonal depression (VSD). If you’ve never heard of VSD It’s bcs I made it up…and you probably use Hellman’s/Hunts and therefore cannot be trusted. There are signs ladies. What have we learned today? Always get the big cart, don’t hang out in the veggie aisle unless you need a bath and check your sub before you leave the store. While I’m not known for sharing my nuggets, I feel these nuggets may could benefit you in a crisis. You’re welcome.