No matter what crap I hear about how many calories, fat grams, and grams of sugar/salt is included in my Turkey Day dinner, I will eat until I have to unbutton my jeans, lay on the couch, and moan in my comfortingly blobness.

I plan on eating every thing and anything I can find.

Yes, I will be a glutton and stuff my fat face until my butt pops another cheese curdle.

Yes, I plan on eating 3 helpings of mashed potatoes.

Yes, I plan on eating pecan pie AND pumpkin pie. No, not 1/2 slices - WHOLE slices.

No, I will not think about what I heard today about that friggin “loser” weight loss show warning me about what I’m eating for Turkey Day.

F you, you skinny bitches. I’m eating until I can’t eat any more. And I will be happy.

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

This year’s trick-or-treat outing was a treat. (That was bad.) The girls were joined with their friend, PirateBoy, and brought home Mama lots of candy. I won’t go on and on about how cute they were, or how they went to each door, knocked, and said “Trick or Treat” all on their own.

But, I will share the most satisfying take of the night.

Not the big one. The KING Size. And I thought it was an urban myth that people in big houses give out the full-size candy bars. I know where we’re returning to next year.

The catch - a note from Jesus himself was attached to the bars. I’ll think of Jesus with every satisfying bite.

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After yesterday’s post, I thought I needed to eat better. Does this count?

8:30am - Grande non-fat mocha w/ light whipped cream from Starbucks

2:00pm - Low-fat chocolate milk

4:00pm - Princess “fruit” snacks

6:00pm - Beef Tostadas with tomatoes, lettuce, cheese, beans, onions, sour cream & salsa and iced tea from Tijuana Flats

I don’t think this counts as eating better.

I’ll try harder tomorrow.

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Check out my post on my new blog with Dawn at MamasLike.com!

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Oh, sugar cookie with a generous coating of brightly colored seasonal icing. How I love thee. Let me count the ways:

Oh, cookie, with each passing season, you change your colors to match all the other cheap streamers and decorations that adorn the grocery store. You even at times dress yourself up to match my favorite sports team.

Oh, cookie, with your soft, sugary almost-not-completely-baked deliciousness. I am sometimes afraid your almost-doneness will sicken me, but to date, you have not yet.

Oh, cookie, you present yourself in a one-of-a-kind-unmistakable wreath of baked goodness. Your circular packaging is recognizable across the bakery section and sometimes in the middle of the grocery aisle. How could I possibly pass you by and not bring you home?

Oh, cookie, I am quickly growing to love the cheesy additions you have left behind on my behind. They are left there as a reminder of your deliciousness and a promising wish to see you during my next excursion to the grocer.

Oh, cookie, you leave me with a lasting taste in my mouth that stays with me for hours. I’m sure you leave it there for me as a sweet reminder that only one of you every six hours is quite enough. I guess you can have too much of a good thing, my tasty cookie.

Oh, cookie, I bring you with me to all of the celebrations I attend. Whether it is a casual affair centered around a sporting event or the social event of the season, I bring you along. Without you, a party is not a celebration. BYOB to me is Bring Your Own Baked (Goods).

Oh, cookie, I just enjoyed your every morsel. I will now remember your goodness until next morrow when I see you sitting amongst my other not-so-delicious products. Until then, I bid you good night, my love.

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I like to consider myself an edumacated person when it comes to pop culture, higher education, and regular-everyday-stuff. So, when I drive through Taco Bell on my bi-weekly visit to pick up my usual, I know what I’m putting in my body. Yeah, yeah. I know it’s crap, but it’s damn good crap. And when you have two toddlers, a full-time at-home job, and a lack of motivation to cook, you tend to drive-thru more than you should. *Justification alert*

Today was any other day at the Taco Bell drive-thru. I roll in my T&C up to the voice box (which, BTW, is a bit quieter than usual I notice) and order my usual: T6 Combo with steak baja chalupas, soft chicken taco, and mountain dew. Mmmm… tasty. EVERY FRIGGIN time I order, I think to myself, “I really need to look up the Nutrition Facts on this,” at the same time thinking, “I really DON’T need to look up the Nutrition Facts on this. Am I CRAZY? I don’t want to give ups the goodness of the T6 Combo for my health!”

I pull up to the window in the normal speediness of my Taco Bell. (They really are quick here!) I get the usual question, “Any sauce?” and I give my normal answer, “One hot, please.”

I get a look from the window lady.

TB: “Were you here yesterday?”

Me: “Um. No, not yesterday. But I’m here about 2x a week, but not yesterday.”

TB: “Oh. I remember that you always ask for ‘One hot’.”

Me: “Yeah. I always get the same thing.”

TB: “This isn’t good for you! You shouldn’t eat this!”

Me: THINKING: Uuuuuuummmmmmmmmmmm… Exsqueese me? Did you just turn into my father and tell me I don’t need to eat the food you are serving me from TACO BELL? Do you think I don’t KNOW what crap you are serving me? Do you think I am STUPID and didn’t read “Fast Food Nation” and give up all drive-thru for a year?

I guess I am stupid, because she continues.

TB: “I don’t eat this stuff. It’s so BAD for you. I just had a baby 4 months ago and I have to lose weight (patting flat belly). I can’t eat this stuff.”

Me: nervous laughing “Yeah. I know it’s bad. But, hey, ha, I don’t eat McDonald’s! Ha, I haven’t, ha, had McD’s in like, ha, 5 years. My kids have never even had it! Ha!”

Why am I trying to justify my addictions choices to the Taco Bell lady SERVING me this fattening food?

I know what I eat. I know it’s crap.

Hey, you have a crappy job lady. So THERE! TTTHHHH!

I’m going to eat my crappy delicious food. Lard and all.

Go suck it, Taco Bell lady.

See ya tomorrow!

I’m sure that’s what they’ll be saying in a few years when they (those two cuties in the trees) can put sentences and reason together.

Today was my birthday. Not exciting, not overwhelming. Just a day. My friends were nice enough to get together and get me a spa gift card (I almost left right then to go get my massage) and have cake and ice cream. I definitely have only love for my skanks friends. I’m VERY lucky to have a small group of girls that I’ve know for a few years that I can depend on and drink with (and go to adult toy stores with) and laugh with. I’ve become extremely close with them, and I feel I’m extremely lucky to have my skanks. Don’t worry - it’s a term of endearment.

Back to my blog title. When I get stressed, or sad, or anxious, or happy, or mad, or the kids cry or whine, I eat. I don’t think I’m grossly overweight, but I am overweight. I do eat too much. I eat too much of the wrong thing. If only Dr. Oz and Bob Greene could come in and take over my health. That. Would. Be. Awesome.

Tonight, after I ate chocolate cake with chocolate icing with chocolate fudge chocolate ice cream, I had a HUGE takeout dinner of beef tostadas and the remaining 1/2 of my daughter’s quesadilla (for the 2nd night in a row). Let me tell you. It. Was. Awesome.

Why did I do it? Because I’m sad and tired and a bit depressed. Today I found out that something I really wanted to happen was not going to happen. It would have given my business such incredible exposure. But, things happen, and this is one thing that is not going to happen.

Oh, and my parents are coming on Thursday. Sigh… I LOVE my parents, but they don’t “approve” of my lifestyle of laziness. That means I have to do my quarterly Mom Clean. I HATE cleaning. So I eat. Do you see a pattern?

At least I’m not a drinker (occasional fruity Mama drink) or the title would be “Mama Drinks Because I Cry.”

I bought some Milano cookies today that I hear calling my name…

To my surprise, I went to LB today just hoping to get a few new mom shirts (comfy, yet kind of stylish for the everyday trip to Publix, Target, & dinner), but I found, to my JOY, I’m now a size 4!

Well, in the new Right Fit sizing at Lane Bryant. I just like saying, “I’m a size 4.”

They had a whole section on their new sizing for curvy (ahem) women that is supposed to fit every curvy (ahem) body type. According to Stacey and Clinton, and now Tim & Veronica, you should try on lots of different jeans to find just the right pair. I usually just try on 1 or 2, get pissed at myself, and leave the store broken-hearted.

But today. Today was victory! I found jeans that fit! And leaving with a size 4 pair of jeans was the candied cherry on top. I ended up buying the Right Fit Straight Size 4 Petite (who knew?) dark wash jeans. Plus, they were only $39.95! For me, that’s expensive for 1 article of clothing. But, if they make my ass look good, and I can wear them for 6 months (I’m in Florida), they’re gonna be mine. I cannot WAIT to wear them!

Size 4… I just don’t want to know the equivalent sizing in regular jeans. I’ll just tell everyone I wear a size 4 and have them look at me funny.

BTW - This is NOT an ad. I wish it was so I could get paid, so if you’re listening Ms. Lane Bryant, I’m available. I’m just so happy I found these jeans.