But, well… really….What did I expect?
Oh, I think I know how I gained a magic SEVEN POUNDS over Memorial Day. How do my fat cells love me? Let me count the ways…..
Thursday, May 22, Rehearsal Dinner: OK, so I got the cream sauce for my salmon “on the side.” I still dipped my tines in it when I ate the super-sized filet. I also had to eat 1/2 an onion ring, b/c I’d ordered that cosmo thinking I needed a drink after wanting to kill the bossy organist at my bff’s wedding rehearsal, and the alcohol made me woozy while I waited for our meal. And I ate about 4 times the jasmine rice I should have. (ALTHOUGH: Kudos to me for ordering balsamic vinegar on my salad, and extra lemons for the meal.)
Friday, May 23, The wedding: Didn’t get to sleep ’til midnight, and I couldn’t sleep from 4 a.m. on, so I went to work at 5 a.m., worked an hour, and GOT McDONALD’S pancake and sausage breakfast and a burrito (ALTHOUGH: Gave the burrito to H, and only used 1 syrup package). I told myself I needed the carbs so I could sleep. It worked like a charm, I have to say, and I promised myself I wouldn’t eat lunch– I promise I kept. I only had an apple and 1/3 (only? am I for real?) of a box of triscuits in the afternoon, and I drank champagne with my friend before the wedding (b/c she wanted me to participate in a toast to us), and had COPIOUS amounts of wine and a bit of fat-food at the reception, but not a lot. My biggest cheat was the wine, and I allowed that b/c it’s been awhile since I’ve been good and sauced.
Saturday, May 24, Niece’s graduation: And I remembered the next day, WHY I haven’t gotten sauced in a long time. Everything went to hell in a handbasket. Forgot how ravenous for carbs I am after a drunk. Don’t remember what I had for breakfast (oh, wait– meatloaf and more-than-enough rice), but I can tell you, I was completely hungover and begged off the 2.5 hour drive to SIL’s house, but felt guilty when H sweetly gave me a reprieve, and got dressed and went anyway. Stopped to get gas and while I got 2 bananas, I also got 2 bags of potato chips (Sun Chips and 1/2 a gaggy bag of buffalo-bleu cheese potato chips), my way of “treating” myself b/c my in-laws are such pains in my ass (an ass to which they’ve contributed much in the way of size, with all their coercive eating habits).
Anyway, it’s a damn good thing I did get food on the way, because SIL had NO INTENTION OF FEEDING US for more than 4 hours after we arrived! And was it the crab legs she said she would feed us, the crab legs my H went to all the trouble to get her, the crab legs she never paid us for ? NO! We didnt’ have the crab boil with potatoes and corn! We didn’t even have the not-as-healthy, but-could-be-worse chicken enchiladas she said Friday that she was going to do! Know what we had?
Fettucine alfredo with chicken with dick-limp peppers! She poured a quart of heavy cream over it, and served it with a ton of buttered french bread! And a LITTLE TINY BIT of salad, heavy on the oil and parmesan, which was gone in the blink of an eye by 14 people who’d been waiting around starving.
Like I’ve said…The gloves are off. I’m so fucking sick of H’s family serving the nutritional equivalent of lard on a plate, so I’m fully prepared to come off looking like a grade-A bitch by bringing my own effing food, if that’s the way it is. But here, I had no choice. She switched it up at the last minute.
NOTE TO SELF: Always, but ALWAYS, bring in your own meal to H’s family get-togethers. If there’s something healthful there (or not too damning), by all means, join in. But there’s a reason why they’re all so fat, even if they don’t see it– They’re CONSTANTLY eating crap, because they are CONSTANTLY together, and they’re CONSTANTLY celebrating– a kid’s church play, a preschool graduation, a nephew replacing the toilet paper on his own, for all I know.
And by the way, do NOT sit at the kid’s table ever again. They were up and down the whole time, and watching the 11-year-old eat fettucine alfredo was an absolutely appalling experience that was supremely difficult to ignore, give the fact she kept shrieking about her antics.
BIL’s mom’s girlfriend (ha! I love it. I know it’s mean, but BIL and SIL are such self-righteous, conservative Christian homophobes, when his mom and girlfriend are absolutely delightful people. I hurt for them, and I hope he’s able to keep his priggish self in check when he’s around them), anyway, BIL’s mom’s girlfriend said at one point, when the 11-year-old and 13-year-old nieces and nephew were crawling around under the table, “Oh, that’s Niece. I thought that was (Dog’s Name).”
I’ve so had it with nieces’ and nephew’s lack of table manners– No, with their absolutely ATROCIOUS manners at table– that I jokingly said, “No, (Dog’s Name) is better behaved than Niece.” And BIL’s Mom’s Girlfriend laughed.
If my SILs heard me, I’m sure they wanted to kill me, and you know, I’d have loved it if they tried. I’ve wanted to go spider-monkey on their butts before, the way they let their kids get away with murder at the dinner table, and we’re not only supposed to ignore it, we’re supposed to like it.
Still, even given the history of the kids’ awful table behavior, I think I could’ve overlooked the pre-teens crawling around under the table, but earlier, none of the kids were made to give up a seat for my MIL (SIL’s mom), which was noticed by my GMIL….”Shouldn’t one of the kids give up a seat for Judy?” she said. “Yes,” I said, “But it’s not going to happen.”
Sunday & Monday: Well, now that I’d blown it completely, it was an eating frenzy. M&M’s, pizza, 2 lbs. of that Pizza Hut meaty marinara pasta in one sitting, 2 cans in one sitting of clam chowder, with a pint of Haagen Dazs chocolate ice cream, salad with real creamy-italian dressing and cheese and bacon bits, onion soup and a BLT with mayo.
The question is not “How did I gain 7 lbs.” but rather, “How did I gain ONLY 7 lbs.?”
Here’s the deal– I eat carbs like I did, I only want to eat more carbs. It’s an addiction, and hopefully my ILs will be able to understand that, but if they don’t, well…..I have to be responsible for what I put in my mouth, not them. The boundary is, I respect them and don’t expect them to cater to my weird food situation that I HAVE to adhere to right now (for health reasons), but they have to respect me by allowing me to eat what I have to eat, with little or no complaint or comment.
God knows, I’ve eaten their food enough by now. Hasn’t it made me fat enough for them yet? The answer, unfortunately, is NO.
Posted on May 27th, 2008 by nike
Filed under: General, in-laws
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