Why I don’t want children and other false confessions

Awww look at the baby! (not mine, promise!)

Not now but maybe one day if by accident. I’ve got too much to do first to saddle myself with a few missteps children.  Sure these eggs are getting older and fewer and far between but as I sit down to visualize my life with one, or two, or gawd forbid four beautiful young things, an unsettled, unfinished feeling weighs down on my chest and normal breathing becomes a struggle. Realization: In order to have offspring and let them live their lives, I have to live mine first and I’m certainly not done with it yet.

Plus I love the idea of adoption. Adopting 5, 6 and 7 year olds and bypassing those diaper-ridden, work filled early years.  You can adopt at any time too and it still equals all of the joy, none of the ripped uterus/cracked pelvis reality. A win followed by another win followed by raising kids for the rest of their (your) life.

Hold on

Yes, it might be that my guy fella wants babies and if that were the case then I would absolutely consider it should his desire be so great. To unilaterally decide not to have kids is both selfish and unrealistic.  I would feel the same meeting a guy fella who says ‘10 kids or nothing’ to ‘No kids but travelling’. These are decisions you make together and definitely not alone.

You owe me

Plus I would feel a little indebted to him as the preacher announces Mr John  Smith and Mrs First Name first and keeping my Last Name na na na na boo boo to you.

You see, I’ve had this name for 20+ years and I’ve only had him for quite a few less so unless his last name is Rockerfeller or Rocafella, I’m keeping mine until the end of time. Now, if he persists I take his last name then I’ll insist he take my first, or even my middle one in exchange. As is my nature, I’d at least give him some options.

To be real though, if my guy’s telling me what to do, then he’ll soon be somebody else’s guy. I love and welcome suggestions but I detest and reject orders. If you want to order me around, I had better be wearing an apron and yielding a pad of paper and a pen and calling you ‘sir.  And should it come to that, I implore you to please take a quick glance out your window in search of the flying swine I guarantee to be present.

But in the meantime, me popping out babies?

.

.

Not on my watch.

–photo source

Advertisements

If you want my advice…

Do you know who in the world wants your advice? Not to worry. I bet even less people want mine. Not even my great advice (as it usually is). What if I tell you I have advice that will forever change your life for the better? Would you be interested in hearing it then?

A good friend recently lamented their (numerous) problems to me. Hearing their issues, I proceeded to give them some good, sound, quality advice.

I haven’t heard from them since.

C'mon, take my advice!


The problem is, we all know better. If I disagree with your advice it’s because I know you’re right.
The angrier you get when I suggest you do something, the more it means you know I’m right.

I hate excuses:

You don’t get it.

You just don’t understand.

It’s not that easy.

My 2010 motto (again, I don’t do resolutions) was “no excuses”. I then used that and “no sympathy” as my 2011 mantras (resolutions are for losers!).  Since then I’ve seen the world anew. People are whiners. Whiners full of excuses. Packed to the brim with reasons why they can’t do this and won’t do that and overall full of ‘poor me’ delusions.

Do you want to know the real truth? Here it is: You can do it. You should do it. And in most cases, you’re the only person holding you back. Yet people just don’t want to hear it.  Instead you want me to agree that the world is working against you, everyone has it in for you and there’s just no way out of your sorry situation.  But there’s no way I can agree to that.

However, the next time your fickle friend prattles on about their sad, cursed, black hole of a life and you know exactly what they should do to get out of it; if you want my advice on this one…

Just keep it to yourself.

The Break-Up Guide

As a perpetually single and fun-loving gal, I’ve developed many relationships in my time. To me, everyone you meet in your daily comings and goings has the potential to be a great friend, a reliable resource, a game show lifeline, a credible witness, a useful alibi, a late night contact, a partner in crime, an ex lover, a business networking contact, or even your soul mate (or ‘one of the ones’ as my friend puts it). So unless you’re rude, a moron, or grossly and repulsively unattractive, into my contact list you go.

Never one to waste time differentiating,  I mentally lump all those I meet into the same generic pile: maybes. A growing list of potentials I can one day refer to in my normal (Need name of a local strip bar: call Jeremy) and/or criminal dealings (Need a black market kidney ASAP: call Bucky).

But here’s the twist

So maybe you were hoping for a relationship or maybe one just happens to fall in your lap, but what happens to this list of maybes you were holding onto when your social status suddenly moves from being single to being ‘in a relationship’.

Now what?

These days, your phone book contact list is essentially your electronic little black book: a listing of past, present and future, um, ‘potentials’. So what’s the best way to inform them all about your newfound joy?

  • Do you send out a broadcast email?
  • Call them all up to let them know?
  • Do you post it on Facebook?
  • Set up rendezvousc with each of them to break it to them gently?
  • Send out a tweet?

The female consensus was simple: Whenever a maybe makes contact, you can do one of the following:

  • Casually drop the ‘I’m taken’ message somewhere in the conversation
  • Kindly inform them of your new relationship status via reply text
  • Compliment them but inform them that you’re no longer interested in pursuing anything
  • Deflect any non-friendship messages/implications and keep it platonic (Him:You’re hot. You:Why yes it is hot. Global warming is no myth. What are you thoughts on it?)

However, according to the male perspective, the female consensus is not only ridiculous, it’s useless too (gee, thanks).

Not understanding why, my male resource then explained it to me. To help illustrate, I decided to use this forwarded email my mom sent me so all us females will get it:

 

The Male consensus: Cease all contact.

Don’t respond, don’t email and don’t answer any phone calls. It may sound cold, it may seem mean but it’s the only way to drive in your point without leading anyone in the wrong direction. Any response indicates interest on your part and if you have no interest in pursuing anything, then the best thing to do is nothing at all. No contact, no replies, and definitely no alcohol fuelled meetups. No-thing!

Final bit of male advice: If you do feel some crazy female-like need and insist that you must, Must, MUST respond in some way; there’s only one guaranteed message you can send: Tell ’em you’re pregnant…

You’ll never hear from ’em again.

.

.

.

And just to be fair, women-speak was in there too 😉 

The End is Nigh!

Well the end of the year is nigh, at least.  So nigh, in fact, it’s pretty much here already. By the time you read this line, there will be less than 2 weeks till the ball drops for 2011. Rather than dropping the ball and waiting for Jan 1, 2011 myself (how passé!) I want to be the first to drop my 2010 Retrospective highlighting one top  post from each month. So without further adieu, I present to you:

2010: A 2010 Retrospective looking back at a year of blogging in 2010. Retrospectively.

January 2010: Why should polar bears have all the fun?

Tempting fate and Mother Nature by taking an ice cold dip in the Pacific Ocean. If you think a person has to be mad to do it – you’re just about right on that. The madder the better.

Would I do it again? I guess you`ll find out in less than 2 weeks…

February 2010: Please, oh please, won’t you be my anti-valentine?

Inspired by love and all its BS, as well as this hilarious antivalentine’s day card courtesy of www.Meish.org/vd:

 

March 2010: End Game

Olympic Fever hit me as early as January and I had several posts on the Olympics over a 2 month period culminating in this final, sad entry. Olymmmmmpicsssss! Those who lived it just know. Those who didn’t could be better off not feeling the loss of a time when the city of Vancouver was engulfed, enthralled and enchanted by all that was and might never be again. Sigh. So as you can tell it’s a fun, uplifting post. 😉

April 2010: Supporting the Arts

Oh Septocus! How I wanted this great performance art piece to be bad. I’ve never been so happy to be disappointed in my life. (Contrarily, I really wanted this performance art to be good and it was…not that)

 

May 2010: I’ve got your future right here

I paid $40 to be told the equivalent of what I could have discovered using a Magic 8-ball. Thinking of getting your palm read and your crystals analyzed? Simply remove my name in this post and paste in yours. Bam! I just saved you $40.

June 2010: Love thy Father

My heartfelt salute to my most favouritest man in the world – Daddykins! Interestingly enough, he doesn’t read my blog – the bastard! 😉 Xoxo!

July 2010: Festivus of Beer

Ah yes, an alcoholic’s dream come true… Assuming the alcoholic liked beer. Unfortunately I don’t. Read on for the details of this living nightmare.

August 2010: Pie Times

22 pies to taste and one spork with which to do it. As any 12-year-old girl with an eating disorder would say: OMG. Get a napkin ready and read on about the best day of my life!

Pies as far as the eye can see! Wheeee!

September 2010: Peaceful Anarchy

Cycling for hours just for the hell of it. If we cause a little anarchy while we’re at it, so be it.

October 2010: The Grouse Grind®

Took on this bitch and it kicked my arse. Twice! Argh! I don’t take defeat very well. I’ll see you again in the spring, you sanctimonious whore! If you don`t know what the grouse grind is, count yourself lucky. And probably lazy. Yah you heard me. Take the challenge! 

November 2010: Wedding Fever

I finally learned about the fun in marriage Weddings! The glam; the photographers; the planning; the fun; the cake (oh my, the cake!); the party; the gifts; and the most important part of that day – the open bar! Marriages do not = weddings.  A wedding is the drug: an ecstasy pill coated in butter cream frosting, served with free flowing champagne.   Marriage is what comes after the drug fuelled, champagne high. Like the hangover if you will. heh heh heh. Hey, there’s always the simple cure (divorce) and then you can have another wedding, woo!

December 2010:

What? A 2010 retrospective looking back at a favourite blog from each month in 2010? What a great idea. 😉

Is this considered a paradox thingy?  Nope. Apparently it’s called Recursion. Learning is fun! (except when it isn’t)

December 2010 (the real one): `tis the season (pt II)

Get in the spirit with this handy guide that should motivate you to get off your couch!… or stay on it. I have tips for you lazy folks too. And yes, you’re welcome.

The Nigh at the End

There you have it. A non-comprehensive 2010 retrospective on the year 2010 (a retrospective).

What’s next for 2011? What’s next on the agenda? What will happen over the next 12 months? What predictions or speculations are on the horizon for the coming year? I haven’t a clue but after seeing that fortune teller back in May 2010, I do know one thing for sure:

Neither does she.

How you living?

I love people! Put me in the middle of a crowd and I’m one happy crowd surfing gal (as long as they don’t crowd me though cuz I hate that.) I’m also an avid people watcher and instead of going off to a local coffee shop or an outdoor patio, I’ve found the cheapest way to watch a bunch of people interact is to live with a bunch of people and to watch them interact. Plus you save on all sorts of coffee, muffin and pint money.  Family dynamics aside, there’s no greater compatibility test than the one you go through with a roommate.  Coexisting non-romantically in an effort to minimize bills while maximizing life is like having your very own party-ready ecosystem (have people, just add booze).

Over the past several years I have been in various living arrangements ranging from 2 person squalor (University dorms) to 8 person splendour (3-story spacious quarters).

Liked:

  • Multiple listening ears (keep asking until someone agrees with you)
  • Various opinions on subjects
  • Learning to create systems/processes to make the majority happy
  • Exposure to various people, new experiences
  • Developing close friendships with great people
  • Practicing social skills in stressful situations (I can work with anyone now!)

Disliked:

  • There weren’t more rooms to add even more people to the mix, woo!
  • Spiders! Yuck!  (not roommate related but I felt I needed to add a little filler over on this side)

But is seems I’m the minority on the ‘More the Merrier” bandwagon. In Canada, 6 times as many people live alone as compared to those who live with one or more roommates*.

I even posed the completely biased question: Isn’t/wasn’t having a roommate great? and received a barrage of unsupportive feedback that completely undermines my ‘More is Merrier’ thesis (here’s a hint dumbasses – the answer was supposed to be yes!).

 In post secondary education institutions: 

My roommate was a dirty, food stealing moron who thought cleanliness was an option and not a requirement

We came in as friends and we left never wanting to see or speak to each other again

 Roommates in general:

It was so uncomfortable the whole time that in the end we simply coexisted until the lease was up and then moved into our own separate apartments

I had to label my stuff so [they] would stop ‘accidentally’ eating all my food

Having a roommate was the worst time in my life

The overall consensus: Roommates suck

Roommates from hell

Not referring to Beelzebub, or even el Diablo (though some might argue that the differences were slight), the Experience Project is a website where people can (and do) anonymously vent about roommates they’ve been forced to endure over the years.

I was disheartened to know that even my dear frenemy the internet was working against my thesis but laughed heartily at the last lines regarding a messy roommate:

While I do agree he probably needs to be shown [basic cleaning skills] because he’s been coddled [by his mother] I don’t feel that it’s my responsibility to teach a nearly thirty year old man how not to be an idiot.

What to do?

Like stop signs, body cavity searches at the airport and lost TV remotes, roommates are a necessary evil to test our patience and ability to handle stressful situations on the road of life. In any situation, you simply need a plan of attack to get through it (ignore the signs, enjoy the complimentary enema and have children handy to change channels for you).

The Nelleytimes’ Roommate Survival Guide

  1. Set up a cleaning schedule (this is probably the most important first step): If you like a spotless house and your new roommate gives you a blank stare when you mention foreign words like ‘windex’ or ‘vacuums’ then yes you should worry and then go 50/50 on a housekeeper. Can’t afford one? Then perhaps you should get used to the furry little friends you’re about to have. Consider this: rats are the new black.
  2. Noise Control (aka a message to my upstairs neighbours): although I appreciate your bongo and drum playing @ 4am on the weekends (it’s nice to have theme music to come home to), most roommates would probably not. Schedule your garage band practice time for a more reasonable hour and keep your rapping where it belongs you wanna-be MC – in your car or in the shower.
  3. Starvin Marvin: Is your roommate constantly stealing your tasty nibbles? Are the rats taking more than their fair share of your grains and potato chips (cheese flavoured, no less) and you just can’t take it anymore?  The solution is easy – stop buying food. Logic: They can’t steal it if you don’t have it to steal. You’ll be ahead with a slender figure and loose fitting clothing and hopefully the lack of food will encourage your roommate to try a more exotic, rat-based cuisine.
  4. Don’t get Carrie’d away:  If you’re already fantasizing about having your roommate locked up and burned alive in your rat infested apartment, it’s already too late. Once the murder trial is over and you’ve settled in with your new roomie  in your jail coloured digs, take the time to express your concerns upfront (please stop leaving your shiv shavings all over our cell) before its too late (Do you smell burning? Hey! Where are you going!?)

And finally, if you’ve tried all of my fail-proof tips above and you still have an inconsiderate roommate who is out of control, out of touch and out of their minds then my last piece of advice is simple:

Just get the heck out!

Save yourself!

*

*

*family homes are not considered roommate households. All calculations based on 2006 StatsCan data

cute rat pic source

Exit sign source

Happy 365!

What a short, interesting trip it’s been

A year already. It’s a continuous theme in my blog posts: time flies. Now is the time to seize the day, carpe noctem, et cetera and on & on and so on and so forth.

Perhaps you’re a little confused, but in case you haven’t been paying attention (and in your defence, I haven’t been either):

HAPPY ONE-YEAR ANNIVERSARY!

Now THAT's an anniversary cake!

It’s been one year since I started this blog and today’s post is the first post of year two. Woo!  So technically I missed the anniversary date (September 27th) but just like in my relationships, I’m not one to pay particular attention to big dates (We’ve been together a year already? Are you sure?)  and this one-year mark is another milestone date that came by surprise.

I looked back at my first and still favourite post: the 3-way conundrum; which openly mocked the aftermath of the dissolution of a relationship. This took me more than 3 weeks to compose; it went through several different edits and rewrites and it had no accompanying photos (to protect the guilty). I had the simple goals at the time of keeping it simple, clever, clean and under 500 words (official word count: 512). Reading it again for the first time in over a year, I still like it for its brevity, hilarity, and clarity. It even had its corresponding facebook promotional post:

Going to lunch with an ex. I need to wear something that says ‘I’ve moved on”, “I’m happy with my life right now”, and “Your new girlfriend is probably a whore.” Hmmmm. I’m thinking something in a pattern perhaps? 😉

I’ll admit it’s slightly petty (and over a year later, I’m still totally okay with that), but it was also liberating at the time. It was writing therapy and I suggest you try it sometime (shake out those dusty skeletons).

Moving on, I moved on from there to write about anything, everything and all the fun little in-between activities that came along.

In the beginning

I had no real goal or direction. ‘Living’ is pretty general (just requires breathing – artificial or not) and could relate to many things. Whatever whim, activity or invitation came my way, I would quickly RSVP Y-E-S.  I may have only showed up to about half the events and arrived late to the rest of them (more fashionable that way, of course) but I have accomplished, experienced and been a part of the most random sampling of ‘living’ this side of the hereafter:

– There was my continuous, internal struggle for my love of food men manly food.

– Followed by my deep, outwardly struggle against the battle of the bulge (here’s a hint, I kicked its ASS!)

– A reason to settle for Mr. Right Now: Be my anti-valentine

– Reasons why you shouldn’t (or maybe I shouldn’t) drink and shop

Free booze + shopping =$60 cheap "gold" earrings

– How the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics took over my life. Then a second time. Then again.

-I’m telling the world: What really happens in Vegas

My second home

– Would you like to go salsa dancing with me? Great. Be ready @ 3AM to go.

– Spilling the beans on a great girl’s night out

– My limited number of good deeds (unfortunately just wanting to be good doesn’t count. Humph) Maybe giving up my car counts?

– How I joined the polar bear club (kind of like the mile high club but totally different)

– The time I became a degenerate gambler (bet you 5 to 1 and my right kidney that it won’t happen again!)

…etc, and on & on and so on and so forth. 52 weeks and 52 posts and its getting more fun by the week. I’m even considering changing to a more than once a week format but I think that kind of radical thinking should be saved for year three (crazy hippie thinking!).

Where we go from here

Year one was about trying different activities, living through new experiences, taking part in unusual events and being open minded to everything (especially this).

In year two, I still want to try new things (so much to try, taste and do!) but I’ll be going to the people this time. Confused? Perfect. That’s how I like my audience – highly expectant and in the dark.

Curious? Great! That’s even better.

Stay tuned. 😉

.

.

.

Ok fine, here are a couple hints:

  • Gastronomic Anomalies: with so much good food out there, why do people feel the need to make this stuff??
  • Happy Sexy You
  • How am I supposed to eat THAT?
  • The bartering system: the real oldest profession

Anniversary cake image

In Vegas

The L.A. Experience

The invite to a 4-day jaunt to sunny California came suddenly and simply via text as:

Wanna go to Cali? Flights are priced at $9.95 each way, plus taxes. We have to book right away though so text me ASAP if you’re in.

The plans for this vacation were the same as always: Go out at night to dance and meet the locals and catch up on trashy reality TV during the day. This trip’s pick -the trashy goings on of the Kardashians. We kept up with them for several episodes & then
followed Khloé & Kourtney as they ‘Took Miami’. In the latter episodes,  Kourtney has a Maxim magazine bikini photo shoot and then later gets pregnant and pops out a baby, then wants to do another photo shoot post baby but has unrealistic expectations on how her body can look. Ask any mother. Sure they’ll claim to love their little body wreckers children unconditionally but they know the real reason their hips have swelled out and their bellies have stretched…

As I yelled at the TV characters (reality people ARE characters after all) because they look healthy and good and are so obsessed with looking better,  my friends send me incredulous

Oooo sexy muscles

stares with hints of black kettles and dark pots.  Ya, ya, ya well I’m just seeking out sexy strength is all (see Alicia Marie) and I like going to the gym.  Plus I have another few months to achieve a firmer look or forever hold my gut. Sigh.

Alas, I think I have a good eat/live balance at least – after all, here’s how the weekend played out:

Day 1

Pre vacation weigh-in: Yay! Lost all the weight gained during the previous vacation (a few weeks earlier). Keeping this momentum going, blueberries and high fibre cereal with almond milk are had for breakfast. Lunch will be more blueberries & whatever healthy snacks are available at the airport.

Lunch: Bottled water, half a ham and cheese sandwich (which was literally just ham, cheese and bread) and a small bag of Fritos for the low, airplane price of $8.
Dinner: The plan was a salad until I saw an In and Out burger down the block from the hotel. Having wanted to try this American chain for years, all thoughts of getting a salad go out the door. A cheeseburger, animal style (with grilled onions and special sauce) and fries are what’s for dinner today!

Day 2

Last night’s burger and fries, coupled with a poor decision to try cherry flavoured vodka (what were we thinking?) and lots of it, left me with a sore throat and a forcibly emptied stomach. On the plus side, it’s like the cheeseburger and fries and the Fritos on the plane never happened. Yay! Fresh starts rock!

Breakfast: Free continental brekky from the hotel. I plan on stocking up on fruits and lots of grainy fibre. Oh darn. Learning what a continental breakfast at this hotel means, I instead stock up on buttered english muffins, cream cheese slathered bagels and chocolate chip muffins. The healthy eating starts at lunch!

Lunchtime hits and still high off my ‘fresh start day’, I decide to order something substantial for lunch – pasta bolognese in a rose sauce. This way, I can have a big salad later on for dinner (good plan!). The large dish arrives carrying over 8 servings of pasta on it (wow).

Whoa. Thats a lotta pasta...

A local friend joins us for lunch and regales us casually with tales of playing basketball with Leonardo (Dicaprio) and Leo’s  fiancé Bar (Rafaeli) and hanging with Natalie (Portman). The dropped names are whispered so apologetically that we each utter a “pardon?!!” whilst picking our jaws up off the floor. While he only mentioned them is passing at our pressing, I’m quickly reminded that we’re in Hollywood – the land of beautiful people. Knowing I have to buy an outfit for tonight, I look at the mound of food in front of me and nibble off one serving, getting the rest to go (for the next 7 meals?). After all, I don’t want to try on outfits with a food baby.

Now THAT's classy!

At the store, I gingerly grab a few dresses in my current size in the hopes that I can still wedge into them. First up, a beautiful and form fitting brown/gold Calvin Klein dress. It epitomizes sexy to me in a Sex and the City way (the good kind!). Double checking the price tag, I see its also one of the smaller sizes, whoop! What’s more, it’s actually a little loose in the belly area, double whoop!

Dinner: Clutching my amazing dress, I head back to the hotel and polish off another 2 servings of leftover pasta bolognese (I’ll pick up some fruit later for the morning…). This would also be my last full meal of the day (see girl’s guide). The next meals would consist of olives, marachino cherries and little umbrellas.

9 hours later

It actually looks like the inside of a house, cool!

Later that night, walking back to our hotel from the famed Hollywood nightspot ‘My House’, lovely gentlemen driving by spy our sophisticated outfits and decide to show their appreciation via honks, whistles and hollering (a true way to a girl’s heart). My body language ignores them but my stomach growls in response (olives & celery just don’t go as far as they used to). Feeling great in my new dress (thank you, drunken male fans!) I decide to allow myself a small snack in celebration. I slip into the 24-hour cafe attached to the well-known Roosevelt Hotel and order a deluxe burger (grilled onions, panchetta bacon, gorgonzola cheese, etc.)  with yam fries to go. $14 and 2 large containers later, I take 2 bites of the burger and a handful of fries and am literally stuffed (damn shrinking stomach). As my father would say “My eyes were bigger than my stomach”. With plans to eat the rest for breakfast (it’s healthy-ish, right?), I wake up the next morning with no desire for any of it. However, to appease my rumbling stomach, I remove the bun and polish off half the burger (protein) along with the tomato, onion and lettuce (look, a salad, yay!). The rest gets tossed in the trash along with the remaining pound of yam fries.

Day 3

Breakfast part II: Sleeping through the continental breakfast hours, my friend saves the day by entering the room with McDonalds’ fries for all. We excitedly dig in until we taste them and they’re ice cold. Not necessarily a negative for mickey dees but some underpaid worker didn’t bother to salt them so it was like chewing cold, greasy cardboard.

Lunch: Thoughts of food pushed to the wayside (trying to choke down a carton of cardboard will do that to you), shopping was next on the agenda. Finding a great shirt to wear that night (it fits, yay!), we crave and share 1 dish of fast food Chinese.  Mmmm. Maybe I was starving but I thought it was the best dish of Chinese I’ve ever had. My shopping buddy (who had earlier polished off a large McDonald’s meal) nibbled on her half and informed me I must be starving as this dish was worse than a food court dish of Chinese grub (I wonder if that means she doesn’t want her half??).

Dinner: After a 2+ hour tour of the city’s famous  landmarks, I’m famished. Sure it was a

Uncle Phil? You still in there?

seated bus tour but all that fresh Beverly Hills was taking its toll. Time to eat. I inform my friends I want something chocolate-y, deep-fried and caffeinated. After explaining to them that its 3 different things I crave and not some amazing superfood (won’t someone please invent it?), I settle for a half slice of pepperoni pizza and a hazelnut latte (protein, grains, dairy and…other?).  Going out on our last night, the next meal would again consist of olives and lemon wedges.

After hours

8 hours later and another great night of dancing to some amazing DJs comes to an end. This time at the 2-level, 5 dance floor Highland Club in Hollywood. Heading back to the hotel, I smell a deliciously meaty combination that I can’t quite place and turn to see a Latina woman with a rolling cart selling grilled hot dogs….wrapped in bacon. Wow! I demand that she sell me one and she happily obliges. A jumbo hot dog, wrapped in bacon then served with grilled onions, watercress, ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise. Walking back along the Hollywood strip to our hotel, the attention received is now more for the hot dog “ Hey baby, lemme get a piece of that hot dog…” wishing I could share the calories but having no intention to share the hot dog, I polish it off myself with mental promises to do some laps in the pool in the morning before we leave (5 or 6 should do it).

Day 4

Breakfast: More starches and butters and jams and cream cheeses. I have already mentally added 3 additional workouts at the gym for the coming week (to make up for the lack of laps in the pool too).

Lunch: Lounging on the beach in Long Beach,  we head to Alfredo’s Lunch Shack. While I was planning on having a garden salad for lunch (hahhahahahahaha!)  they didn’t serve anything of the sort. We settle for corn dogs, chicken strips, fries while I had 2 of the best baja style tacos ever (protein, corn is the grain and the salsa verde and the lemon are the serving of fruit/veggie!). If they served soft serve twist ice cream, I would have eaten that too (dairy!).

You should be lunch EVERY day!

Dinner: on the plane ride home I get a bag of munchies and a package of m&m peanuts (you see the chocolate is the….ah who am I kidding??) and just enjoy the memories of good times shared in a beautiful city (damn those tacos were good!)

The Skinny

Good intentions are nothing without a little desire and some willpower. Eating healthy on vacation is absolutely possible but planning is obviously necessary. Back from vacation, I know that planning ahead is the key to staying on a healthy eating path and I definitely, absolutely, positively plan to get right on that….

Starting tomorrow. 😉

.

.

.

pasta image source