My Tips And Tricks Of How Not To Become A Jabba The Hutt, For Anyone Who May Still Give A

Had pancakes last night for dinner, pooled in good ol’Canadian Maple Syrup, with wads of butter. I’d found these two bags of the mix at the back of the cupboard, so on the last grocery run made sure I picked up some syrup. An early spring treat, a delicious seasonal indulgence.

Another benefit to this lockdown, and my general loathing of having to venture out to obtain groceries, my cooking habits have greatly improved. No longer just able to run across the street to quickly zip in for whatever craving I may have, I’m forced to actually MAKE my food from what I have.

I mean, I did before, but I strayed, ALOT, and became lazy. Lazy eating is a surefire route to rotundo, which is a path I will not take again.

Yes, in the long, long ago, after Roger the Dodger and I separated, I couldn’t eat. That is something I learned from my various experiences with grief, I lose my appetite.

So, I took your advice mom, and what little I ate, I made sure I added something to it that had some fat, like if all I wanted was French Style Green Beans, I’d put on Parmesan cheese, lots of pepper, a garlic clove. Not exactly a balanced meal, but for lazy grief-stricken meal planning, we make concessions.

Of course, I am not sorrowful now, so quite frankly I could just eat through an entire bag of these wonderfully awful sour cream onion ring things I found. I spent a good 15 minutes yesterday dreaming about them.

Over the years I’ve developed some coping mechanisms – first of these rules of engagement, as it were, is I never deny myself anything, so if I don’t buy it I can’t eat it.

So currently all I can do is dream about those horribly wonderful sour cream onion ring thingies. Least until I get up the courage to venture forth to the store of doom and fetch from the jaws of virus laden food my groceries for the week.

See… can’t buy it, don’t have it, can’t eat it.

Second tippo… whenever I do indulge those salty cravings, I put them in a bowl – I never (or very rarely) grab the whole bag.

Theory is… I can have what I want, whenever I want, and if I want more I’m perfectly capable of getting my arse up outa my chair and fill the bowl back up. Yes…now, what I’ve learned… for me anyways… usually I just don’t. Usually my craving is satisfied in just a couple handfuls, and after that its really just mindless munching.

Third thing, and this does work, a friend told me years ago that sometimes when we are hungry, what we really are is thirsty… so drink a glass of water before you go and gorge yourself with salty chips.

Fourth… snacking falls in to two categories… salty or savoury… have something of both on hand. Sometimes I crave chips, but often I crave banana bread, or dark chocolate, or something of that sort.

For the chocolate, I always have some Cocoa on hand, for sprinkling on things, or making a hot Cocoa, add to a cuppa coffee, and my coffee is so thick its like a dark coffee cupcake in a mug.

Yet, sometimes nothing will do but a delectable pastry, of which I am not proficient. I’m too messy a cook for baking, to be honest.

Remember grandma made an absolutely deliciously dreamy Lemon Meringue Pie, and ever since I have had a weakness, yet alas no one makes it like hers. I recall it took her like all day… as she made it all right from scratch.

Although, sadly, I have nada pastries.

HOWEVER… I did have left over pancake mix…so I greased my little muffin tin, put in 3/4 of the mix in each… added some chocolate sprinkles, cocoa, and the rest of the raspberries from the freezer. In the oven at 400 for about 15 minutes (give or take).

And, Bobs your mothers brother… fairly ok chocolate raspberry cocoa muffins.

Fifth, most important secret, this tip is from a cookbook called “French Women Don’t Get Fat“… paraphrasing, but something like there comes a time in every women’s life when she must ignore her derrière and think of her face.

Her point being, older women look more youthful with a little weight on.

Yes, I know mom, this is probably something you’d never have wrapped your head around…but… as you age, as your skin looses it elasticity, that skinny svelte figure begins to look instead rather sickly. Whereas a little plumpness in the face puffs up those lines a smidgen and makes you more vibrant.

Course, after a certain age one genuinely is running out of fuks to give…so that helps quite abit.

And, in an unofficial polling I did on my twitter account, it would seem that generally women are finding they give less and less fuks at younger and younger ages.

WINNING. ~(˘▾˘~)


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