My life goes in cyclical obsessions.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say my obsessions are the ending of my regular everyday banal life, but they are added on top of everything else I have to do in a day’s work.

Watching Dexter non-stop.

Reading every Twilight book back-to-back.

Twittering.

Playing Tropico.

Right now, it’s those tiny pop-one-in-your-mouth-and-watch-them-appear-on-your-thighs powdered donuts. Call them what you will, poppers, gems, mini donuts, Sweet Sweet Baby Jeebus’s special gift to processed foods, but mama loves all 230 calories three of those babies pack in their donuty goodness.

Am I the only one who can’t say or write “powdered donut” without thinking of Powdered Toast Man? He and Log were my favorite Ren & Stimpy characters, just like Ace & Gary are my favorites today.

I’m kind of getting an epiphany. Maybe I like the powdered donuts because they make me think of Powdered Toast Man, Ren & Stimpy, and my free-wheelin’ teens and early 20s. Life was easier back then. 80 pounds lighter, no kids for which to devote my being, no bills beyond my Arial Mobile account and the $500 limit on my credit card. My car payment was under $200 and getting paid $8.50/hour was BIG MONEY.

The good old days were back in the ’90s. Chris Kirkpatrick had white boy dreads, I had the whole weekend of MTV’s Spring Break on my VHS tapes, and I had that nervous feeling of embarrassment to buy condoms from my ex-boyfriend’s dad at Kmart.

Back in the day, I could eat 3 whole mini powdered donuts and not think twice about it. Instead, I have to eat them one at a time and space them out through my day so I can pretend that I’ve worked off the last donut before I eat the next.

And now I want me a donut.

Wanna take a guess on how many mini powdered donuts I’ve eaten for the duration of writing this post?

Image via Wikia

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | 6 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: 90s, powdered donuts, powdered toast man

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I’m turning into a lush. This should come at no surprise to anyone who knows me or my family, considering I’ve been drinking beer since I was old enough to fetch and open the bottles for my dad. It’s too bad that I don’t like beer now, because beer is cheap and comparatively low in calories to the drinks I like.

Margaritas? My drink of choice.

Sangria? My close second drink of choice.

Anything pomegranatey with vodka? My WOO HOO, GIRL’S NIGHT drink of choice.

Free alcohol? Yes, please, and keep them coming.

Unfortunately, all of those drinky poos that I love are relatively high in calories.

[Note: "Relatively high" means "so high that I don't want to know."]

I’m a child of 80s television which in a small way means I’m easily swayed by commercialism. If it’s on TV and someone I think I like says it’s good, I’ll try it.

You can guess what comes next.

I want a Skinny Girl Margarita.

ready-to-drink margarita + lower calories + created by a reality TV star = Mama wants her some Skinny Girl Margaritas

My local liquor store is a carrier of the ready-to-drink Skinny Girl Margarita. You know, if they had any. Apparently (and of course I knew this from watching Bethenny Ever After, but I figured my one little liquor store would have the last bottle) they are very popular and sell out as soon as they’re stocked and don’t restock for months at a time.

This leaves me stuck with no Skinny Girl Margaritas.

I’m blaming Bethenny Frankel for the extra 20 pounds I’ll be putting on my ass because I have to drink regular super-calorie ready-to-drink margaritas.

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | 20 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: celebrity, skinny girl margarita

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There’s something to be said for peer pressure.

A few days ago, my fellow Curvy Girl, Audrey, asked the internet, “What’s your weight?”

EXSQUEEEEEEEEZE ME?

Well, I NEVER.

How DARE you!

You just don’t ask a lady her weight and expect her to answer you with less than a slap to the face and a stomp out of the room.

Preposterous.

I hemmed and hawed and shuffled my feet and declared, “THERE’S NO WAY IN THE 7TH LEVEL OF HELL I’LL EVER TELL YOU PEOPLE WHAT I WEIGH.”

But even I wasn’t even sure what I weighed. That’s something for me to ignore and my doctor to scribble down on a chart.

It’s kind of an issue, if you can’t already tell.

It’s too high for me and my body type. It’s my fault it’s too high. It’s something that should be lower than it is currently.

It’s embarrassing to admit that I’ve failed at something, and for it to be something that everyone already knows, is even doubly shameful.

In my head.

Together with my friends and sisters, I’m brave enough to take a poop then get on a scale and tell the world my secret.

And in how I do what I do, I reveal myself as a dancing-on-a-bar-couch-in-a-cowboy-hat-in-Vegas, fat and happy woman.

This is what 5'5" & 225lbs looks like.

My friend, Greis, just happened to catch me tipsy and dancing on a couch in Vegas.

Because of course.

My Curvy Girls and I are Getting Real. Join us?

…now hold me, brush my hair, and feed me donuts?

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | 34 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: healthy, weight, women

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Most people have a “most regrettable moment.”

Not me.

Except for all those times I used a credit card when I should have, said something really dumb, or said yes when I should have said no.

But specifically, that ONE regrettable moment?

Is an entire year.

I have a year of regret.

An entire year that has made me fat who I am today.

How, pray tel, does a year make me fat who I am today?

Let me be more cryptic specific.

The year after I graduated high school and before I met Patrick was a very exploratory year, and not the kind of exploration that required spelunking gear. Though it totally could have.

I wasn’t, we’ll say, focused on my school work. I was still living at home going to the local community college, but I really wasn’t home much. At 18, I was so friggin smart! and free! and a girl! and I was cute! and I had a job!

and I was HOT!

Oh, damns was I the shit. Long blond curly hair, size 28 men’s jeans shorts (they were cool back then), weighed 123 pounds cause when you weigh 123 pounds once you remember, had a cool new tattoo, and then another.

I was pretty much the one that brought all the boys to yard.

And they came for me.

I think a small part of me knew this, but a more conscious part of me just wanted the attention. That part of me ruled the rest of me. I was wanted.

Kind of like how I want freshly baked brownies right now.

Which brings me back to how that year made me fat today.

I met Patrick when we were both 18. We immediately stuck to each other and never let go. He loved me like no other guy had ever loved me. He respected me, he doted on me, he listened to me.

He didn’t want to let me go.

So I stayed. Thankfully.

He made me feel wanted. Special. Needed.

But I still noticed all the other boys in the yard. And they still noticed me.

To keep Patrick and to keep myself sane and to keep myself from making the other guys notice me, I subconsciously made myself fat.

Now, at 33, a mom, a wife, a woman. I’m not noticed. My husband loves me, I know this.

But subconsciously, I don’t want to be noticed because then, THEN, I might want them to be noticed.

Nobody notices a fat, 33 year old, mom, wife.

And, like that carton of milk in the back of my fridge with the expiration date of Sept 08, I just recently realized this.

Spoiled milk can become cheese, right? I’m pretty much the cheese.

mmmmm… cheese…

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2010. | Permalink | 39 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: fat, girl, mom, teenager, woman

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Sodas are oh so yummy bad.

No duh.

Now is when I hurl my fat ass up onto my high horse and beg our legislators to tax one of my favorite things to imbibe.

SODAS

Yes, please tax my sodas. While you’re at it, please tax cigarettes, tobacco, marijuana (make it legal!), and any food containing high-fructose corn syrup.

I’m asking you to take MORE money from me and everyone else for eating junk food. We deserve to put a few extra pennies into our future diabetes & heart attack fund. We deserve to pay additional cents for eating crap food.

TAX US FATTIES.

Why did I launch myself up onto this equine? Tonight while watching MSNBC and the great Rachel Maddow* (as all good liberals do), there was a commercial from Americans Against Food Taxes. In the commercial, a nice white suburban mom unloads her groceries from the trunk of her sedan and speaks to the viewer as a concerned citizen, scared that the evil government will take food out of the mouths of her babes for all those extra pennies she’ll have to pay for her “food” (*ahem* sodas).

Guess what, white lady. SODAS AREN’T FOOD. High-fructose corn syrup is not food. It’s a yummy concoction. Capri Suns are not food. They’re fake-sugary liquid candy (unless you get the 100% juice kind). Oreos are not food. They’re a delicious chemical compound.

I’m smart enough to know that I feed at the Trough of Crap. I know I’m addicted to sugar and HFCS. I’m also know better than to feed my kids high amounts of sugar and HFCS. They are severely limited on the number of sugary treats and do not drink soda. (They make up for my lack of parenting in the amount of TV they watch.)

I also know better than to believe that soda, sugar, and high-fructose corn syrup are foods and they are making us all fatter.

Like cigarettes and gas with extra “you’ll-die-someday-at-the-hands-of-evil-products” taxes, please dear government, please take a few extra pennies from my case of Mountain Dew purchase to help educate the masses about diabetes and heart disease. I can guaran-damn-tee that junk food & soda sales will not go down. We fatties are already paying too much for our addiction. Those extra few cents won’t kill us. The crap-food will do that first.

I’d love to know who is funding the Americans Against Food Taxes considering their supporters are corn growers, sugar growers, and republican legislators, and grocers. (Actually, I’m sure I already know who’s against the tax just by that last statement.)

So please, Mr. Obama and all you other lame-duck Democrats in Congress, tax my fat ass. I deserve it.

_________________________

*My girl-crush on Rachel Maddow has no bearing on this conversation other than the fact that I may or may not have been day-dreaming of her Awesomeness while waiting for her return during the commercial break.

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2009. | Permalink | 48 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: high fructose corn syrup, law, sugar, taxes

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This is what I looked like when I thought I was FAT.

This is what I look like NOW when I think I’m not THAT fat, am I?

Cupcakes! nom nom nom

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2008. | Permalink | 26 comments | Add to del.icio.us
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I’ve admitted before, I have lovely lady lumps and I don’t mean my boobies. I mean the cheesy lumps on my arse and my thighs. Being that I am a plumpalicious girl, I am standing up and protecting my fellow larger ladies and the rest of the world.

How? By calling a moratorium on shorts that are wider than they are long.

Unless you are in the top .01% of the ladies in the U.S., YOUR SHORTS SHOULD BE LONGER THAN THEY ARE WIDE. If this ratio is on the negative side, DON’T SQUEEZE YOUR FAT ASS INTO THE SHORTS.

Just because some clothing store makes the clothes and you can pull up the screaming zipper, DO NOT buy the shorts.

Oh, sweet Jesus and Oprah. Here is my evidence from Old Navy:

Allowing Old Navy (and others) to sell shorts at a 4 1/2″ inseam in a size 6 or up should be criminal. Allowing us larger ladies think it is OK to leave the house, much less purchase, any shorts less than a 5″ inseam (and still you gotsta have some NICE legs to pull those off) is a travesty.

And who are they joking with this picture of the shorts with a space between the legs? No woman who is a size 14 or up has any space between her thighs. You nasty nasty marketing picture-taking people at Old Navy are trying to make us think that those shorts (with pleats btw) will allow our crotches to breathe.

Sorry, ladies, but wearing these shorts will only allow your ass to have a snack on some denim.

So, please. For the love of Jesus and Oprah. Stand UP and show your lovely legs! Just wear your shorts a little longer.

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2008. | Permalink | 24 comments | Add to del.icio.us
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Last night, we drove all the way (25 minutes) to Bennigan’s for the delicioso dessert I mentioned a few days ago. We had a nice dinner, the girls were good, and we had some major laughs (check back Wednesday for the picture).

And wouldn’tchaknowit.

Friggin place ran out of BANANAS. How the crap do you run out of bananas when you’re a restaurant advertising a delicious banana dessert? Argh.

But everything happens for a reason, right?

In the 3 seconds it takes me to kick and scream and whine complain to HockeyMan, I think to myself, “Self, you didn’t really need those extra 500 calories and 30 grams of fat you would have eaten had bananas been in plentiful supply. Self, God is telling you that you don’t need to keep eating crap food even if it is delicious and you drove out of your way to eat it. Self, why don’t you chock this up to fate that today is the day to stop eating dessert.”

But, no. Fate would have it that we would be sat in a booth at the front window of Bennigan’s with no other customer seated in our section (maybe that was because we have 2 noisy toddlers in tow). And fate handed us a treat.

As we were staring out the window across the street whining discussing the lack of bananas and how we’ll have to come back another day, the beacon shone itself.

Hot Now

Yes, my dear blog friends, the bright orange Krispy Kreme sign flicked on just as we looked out the window.

How can I make that up? You can’t control fate. You can only give in and eat a Hot Now glazed Krispy Kreme doughnut or two.

Deeelish.

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2007. | Permalink | 4 comments | Add to del.icio.us
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If you know me, you know I love a list and sweets. So why not combine the two into a list of my favorite restaurant desserts? Keep in mind, these are restaurant desserts. The homemade stuff doesn’t count. Why? Because my mom’s Pecan Pie can’t compare to any other dessert on earth. It just doesn’t compare.

In order:

1. Bahama Breeze: Bananas Supreme – “Sliced bananas and vanilla ice cream on warm banana-nut bread, with hot, homemade butterscotch brandy sauce.” Lord. Help me now. I do not. Will not. Don’t even ASK me to share this with you. I’ve heard about other desserts at BB, but I’ve never tasted them. This is THE best. Ever.

2. ESPN Zone: Mighty Duck Hockey Puck – The thickest, most delicious brownie ever. Sadly, it is no longer offered at the restaurant. It’s been about 7-8 years since I’ve had it, and I think of it often. It will be falling from the #2 spot soon. Sadly.

3. Bennigan’s: BANANAS FOSTER XANGO – “Creamy original and banana cheesecake layered with rich caramel, wrapped in a flaky pastry. Served warm with vanilla ice cream, banana slices and topped with caramel, Bananas Foster sauce and whipped cream.” This, my friends, is the reason for this post tonight. HockeyMan ordered this delectable dessert tonight whilst I protested, and we discovered a new reason to drive out of our way to Bennigan’s. Go there NOW and eat this low fat dessert.

4. Smokey Bones Barbeque: Bag of Donuts – Fresh to Order Hot Cinnamon Sugar Donuts – If you have resisted this in the past, resist no more. They recently added to their strawberry dip (yes, dip) a chocolate sauce dip. Oh, Lordy, Lordy. Dip them both and eat. Ahhhhhh….

5. Maguire’s Irish Pub: Lucky Chocolate Brownie Pie A La Mode – Baked daily, topped with ice cream. The. Best. Brownie. EVER. Trust me – I’m a professional brownie eater. If you’re ever in the panhandle of Florida, you MUST visit Maguire’s for the best food and desserts.

6. Olive Garden: Chocolate Lasagna – This dessert is only around from time-to-time, and thank goodness for that. I can only take it once every few years and in small doses. It is SO incredibly rich and thick, but SO gooooood.

OK, so I have two favorite brownies, but one is retired. I LURVES a brownie.

What are your favorite RESTAURANT desserts? (I need ideas.)

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2007. | Permalink | 11 comments | Add to del.icio.us
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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!

*

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2007. | Permalink | 12 comments | Add to del.icio.us
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