Lots and lots of crap on my plate, and it’s not food.

I realized this morning I haven’t written anything on here in like a week. Slacker! I haven’t done much of anything on my computer that wasn’t work or late night Grey’s Anatomy. I’ve had a lot on my plate lately. I’ve been doing lots of thinking and lots of doing.

For as long as I can remember, my brain runs kind of like a four lane freeway. I’m always thinking, rapidly. So many thoughts tend to travel through my mind, some heading north, some heading south. They are congested and crash into each other. As an adult it is very stressful to have a brain that works like that because they are always neurotic thoughts it seems. Well, at ¬†least it’s that way for me. I tend to be pretty neurotic without even trying(thanks, dad!). My mind has been wrapped around things like my son’s father, physical pain, emotional pain, and grieving past relationships. The late night viewings of Grey’s Anatomy doesn’t help at all. That show really puts you in touch with your emotional feelings. Sounds like crap, right? Anyway, I’ve realized why it has been so difficult for me to grow. The more I grow, the more I think about the things that have held me back. I don’t like thinking about those things, they make me feel generally sad and shitty. Self reflection is hard, and overwhelming, and I’ve kept myself at an emotionally stunted state by trying not to think about those things. This time, I’m just taking it one hurdle at a time, no matter how painful it is. I want to grow, I need to grow. It’s okay to be emotionally fucked when you have an infant, or even a toddler. They can’t see when you’re in pain. They don’t noticed if you’re thoughts are being haunted by the unfortunate experiences of your life. But my son is growing up, and he will notice these things in the near future, so I need to get my shit together.

I recently acquired a new primary care physician. My last one couldn’t have cared less about her patients, I won’t even think of delving into the details because I’ll just get annoyed and go off on a tangent about it. This guy is great, and thorough. Which is great, but also kind of irritating because it’s requiring me to run all over the place to get shit done. I’ve been dealing with chronic back pain for quite some time, so I’m needing to participate in physical therapy, and get an x-ray to hopefully convince my insurance company to approve an MRI. Physical therapy is crap. The physical therapists are fucking obnoxiously nice and they make me do crap that makes my back hurt more than it did when I came in. Kill me. Or drug me. Preferably the second option. Squeezing physical therapy into my normal routine is killing me. I need a husband. Just for cleaning and laundry doing purposes.

After my busy weekend, we start potty training. How weird is it that I’m excited? Maybe I’m excited because the only other emotion most parents typically feel right before potty training is complete terror. But, he’s been showing me the signs that he is ready. So I went out, purchased a potty and some boxer-briefs(I fucking hate tighty whitees), and we are going to take a stab at it in a couple more days.

I’ve been cleaning a lot lately. I think it might be obsessive compulsive. I hate cleaning, I really do. I’ve always wanted to be that person that enjoyed it. I have even tried to fake that I enjoy it, thinking I might end up enjoying it if I faked it long enough. But no, I still fucking hate it. And yet I’ve been doing it more frequently. Maybe I’m sub-consciously seeking out a form of therapy, because I refuse to go out and see an actual therapist.

Ok, it is now time for some Grey’s Anatomy. I will be posting about some kick-ass recipes this weekend ūüôā


50 shades of closure

Last week I wrote about my best friend in life(you can read it here if you’d like, to get a better picture). It was short, because I’m an emotional person, and sometimes I allow my emotions to get the best of me. But that’s pretty typical for a lot of woman, fuck I hate being typical sometimes.

Everyone reaches a point in their lives(or several points) when we are dealt the massive shit card. Life hates us, or so it seems, because everything appears to be so awful. It’s something¬†everyone goes through. Some have it worse than others, but we all experience. We deal with it one of two ways; either we allow that massive shit card to make us better people, stronger and more confident, or we allow that massive shit card to take over our lives and make us bitter and angry.

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When I met my best friend 11 years ago, he was going through a lot in his life. But he was happy, and he was strong. Over the years his life was a bit of a roller coaster, and yes, he was dealt the massive shit card more times than a person should have to deal with. But at a certain point, he allowed the massive shit card to take over, and he became a bitter and angry person. It didn’t reflect the way he treated me as his best friend immediately, but it happened. When it did happen, I tried my best to be understanding. I tried my best to remain by his side and see him through it. But once I had my son, I couldn’t do it anymore. I am a single mom, and I had a little life to think about. As it was I was dealing with my own massive shit card, and I just didn’t have enough room on my shoulders to carry mine, his, and be a good mom. And so I let go.

Now it has been nearly two years since I let the burden of a bad friendship go. But the thing was, I didn’t really let go. I was carrying around emotional baggage from the broken friendship. I have been full of doubt, wondering if I had made a mistake, or if I had been missing out on something by ending our friendship. The only way I really knew how to deal with it was to love him anyway, whether he was present in my life or not. My doubt kept me from being able to move on. And because our friendship ended so abruptly, I never had any kind of closure.

A few days ago I was playing around on Facebook, and in the “people you may know” section was my best friend. My stomach sank. Since our friendship ended, I have not once seen him around town, as he is a bit of a shut in. He has always been against the idea of being part of social media, so I never had to face seeing his activity on Facebook due to our large amount of mutual friends. In a way, it was like he didn’t exist anymore. But suddenly, he did exist, and my curiosity led me to look at his Facebook page. I was heartbroken, and suddenly I began to feel very angry. Here I am, filled with doubt and sadness, almost two years later. And he appeared to be smitten. A rush of emotions flooded my heart, and I felt a deep amount of pathetic, heart-wrenching sadness.

After much thought, I decided to send him a message. I needed to confront him on the hurt he caused me, but I also wanted him to know that I still love him and care about him to the point where I think about him often. I had to intentions of trying to regain what I had given up, because that ship sailed off into past for a very good reason. I just very greatly needed for him to know how I felt, and a big part of me wanted to know how he felt as well. When I hit the send button, I wasn’t sure if he would reply or not. But if he did reply, I was pretty sure what to expect. As I mentioned before, he became a very bitter and angry person. I knew that if he would reply, it would likely be a bitter and angry one. But I am a hopeful person, and a small part of me hoped his reply might surprise me.

He did reply late that night. To my disappointment, it was what I had expected. He had informed me that he has since moved on, and that he has surrounded himself with people who understand him and want to be in his life. According to him, I blame him for the bad things that have happened in my life, and that I believe I am a perfect person who has done nothing wrong to contribute to the problems in our relationship. He included some very generic well wishes, including “I hope your¬†kid is doing well”, and “I wish the best for you”.

I was hurt, I can’t deny that. But all this time, I have wondered if I made a mistake by ending our friendship, and I’ve wondered if I have been missing out on something. But his response made me realize that I did¬†not¬†make a mistake, and I have¬†not¬†been missing out on anything. I thanked him, because his response gave me the closure I needed. I poured my heart into the email I sent him, and he slapped me in the face with insults and generic well wishes. Sometimes you don’t need answers to gain closure from someone to hurt you, you just have to see how much of an asshole they are to gain closure.

I woke up the next morning, yesterday morning, feeling wonderful. I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I finally let go of the emotional baggage I’ve been lugging around this entire time. I can move on now, and I can be confident in my decision to end the friendship in the first place. He is not the person I met 11 years ago. The pictures of the man in my scrapbook is gone, he does not exist anymore. All I can do is hold on to the memories of the person he was, and without denial, recognize the person he has become.

Our falling out was a massive shit card I had been dealt. I am not going to let it make me bitter or angry. I will be a stronger person for it.

Working with what I got

Five years ago I was sick and tired of being morbidly obese. I was about 450 pounds at the age of 22, and I just couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to be a mom one day, and not the one that was too large to be a good one. I didn’t want to be fearful of things like heart-attacks and strokes in my mid thirties, and I wanted to be able to do the things in life I really wanted to do. I said fuck off to all the people who thought I was taking the easy road and got the surgery. In a little over a year I lost 130 pounds. I was still overweight, but I looked really good, and I felt amazing.

Shortly after I got pregnant, and for the first four months into my pregnancy I was determined to eat healthy. Unfortunately for me I had IUGR, meaning my unborn baby wasn’t gaining weight properly. My midwife urged me to eat higher calorie, higher fat foods. I wasn’t happy about it, but I had to put my feelings about eating healthy aside so my baby could gain weight. Problem was, after I had my son, I ¬†didn’t really change my diet, and I gained 60 pounds.

I let it consume me. I was depressed and my self-confidence level was zero. So I started eating better and working out and I lost 40 pounds. I wanted to lose more, but I hit a road-block. I was experiencing hormonal imbalances, and was having a very difficult time losing more weight. I also started having back problems again, and it was making it very painful for me to work out. Again, I let this consume me. I became depressed again, and my self-confidence dropped down to zero again.

It didn’t help that I know people who are big into fitness and don’t believing in “coddling” fatties. There’s no reason not to be fit, there’s always time and a way to work out no matter your situation, and there’s no excuse not to eat “clean” or “paleo”. I let their opinions and their lifestyles make me feel worse about myself, which isn’t their fault at all, it was mine.

I’ve realized something very recently. You hear fitness buffs say that you can be thin and still be unhealthy. Well why can’t you be bigger and also be healthy? Your weight does not determine your level of health. I might be overweight, but I do not have high blood pressure, I eat well-balanced meals, I don’t eat junk food, I get physical activity, etc. Except for my weight, I am healthy. And before you think to yourself,¬†fuck you no you’re not, my doctor, who’s pretty smart, says so.

I still have goals to get down to a healthier weight. By no means am I justifying being overweight. But I am choosing to love myself as I am. I am choosing to continue to do what I’ve been doing, which is eating well and getting physical activity. I’m not going to become obsessed with fitness, I’m not going to weigh myself every week, and I’m not going to count calories. I don’t want to. I work hard, I’m an awesome mom, and I want to live my life the way it makes me happy. It doesn’t make me happy to obsessive over meeting my goals. And it certainly doesn’t make me happy to let myself be disappointed and have low self-confidence.

I love who I am, my fat and all. And I make no apologies.


An open letter to The Huffington Post

You will not see many posts on this blog in which I express anger. I am not an angry person, and generally I do not choose to use the creative process over something that pisses me off.

Today I spent the day with my mother. We went to the mall, did some shopping, and went to Red Lobster for dinner after. As I was enjoying my cheddar bay biscuits I decided to check in on Facebook. I was horrified to see status updates about a bombing at the finish line of the Boston Marathon today. I had flashbacks of the Newtown shooting, and I silently prayed this wasn’t another massacre as I Googled the bombing on my smart phone.

The first link that popped up was to an article on the Huffington Post. I’m not a fan of HP, but I clicked on it anyway because I was quickly looking for some information and I wasn’t going to be picky about it. I was sad to read the news of what had happened today, but I will admit that I was extremely relieved as it appears the number of casualties are low.

Boston Marathon-Explosions

When I got to the bottom of the article, I saw there was a photo gallery of the events that took place. I tend to be curious, so I decided to check it out. There was a warning that there would be graphic pictures on the slide show. I expected that. But the photos that were posted appalled me to the core, to the point where I wished I could unsee the pictures I saw. I stopped looking after the second picture…. I thought about it all night, and the drive home. After I arrived home, I made the decision to revisit the article and look through all the pictures.

I am very angry and offended by the insensitivity of HP, and I have decided to post an open letter to them.

Huffington Post,

I love that in America, when a tragedy happens people around the country want to be as informed as possible about what takes place in an event such as what happened today during the Boston Marathon. The more we know hurts our hearts, but we want to know the dynamic of the situation because we are compassionate and want to be well-informed.

I get that the media has an obligation to report the news as accurately as possible to the country, and to the rest of the world. I also get that when there is an opportunity to show pictures and video footage you show them to us.

What I do not get, is why it is at all necessary to show pictures of a man in a wheelchair with his feet blown off, a helpless man on the ground surrounded by mass amounts of blood, or a man holding his beloved that has been injured by the blast. I looked through every picture on that slide show. The majority of the pictures posted on this slide show showed the dynamic of the tragedy that took place today, without needing to show any photos that were as disturbing as what I saw this evening.

It is very clear to me that you unnecessarily showed these graphic photos for one reason; to get as many views to your website for this piece of news as possible. It’s all about ratings, it almost always is these days with the media. How would you feel if the man whose feet were blown off in the photo was your brother, father, uncle or son? And how would it make you feel if that photo was all over the internet for the whole world to see? The thing is, you and your staff probably didn’t think about that at all.

The insensitivity of the slide show your website posted makes me absolutely sick. I looked on Fox News, NBC News, Yahoo News, and ABC News…. They did not show the disturbing photos that you did. ABC news did show the photo of the man in the wheelchair whose feet were¬†blown away by the blast, but they at least had the decency to crop the photo, careful not to show the extent of his injuries.


You should be ashamed of yourselves for the insensitivity you showed today, all for the sake of ratings. Shame. On. You.


One pissed off American.

What a best friend really is

Lately my thoughts have been wrapped around past relationships, past friendships to be more specific. Yesterday I happened to stumble upon a blog post in which the author was sharing his experience of having a “bff”. He and his best friend were together for years, and like many best friendships, they lost touch. Years after parting with his best friend he began to examine what a best friend really is. To him, a best friend is the friend that sticks around the longest.¬†I was immediately offended. Anyone can be present for a long period of time, it does not make them a best friend, even if they are a good friend. If you look up the word “best” in the dictionary, the definition says this,

of the highest quality, excellence, or standing.

A best friend is someone who’s friendship has been so beneficial to your life, that no other friendship could match your relationship with that other person. If you one day find yourself in a position where you and your best friend have had a falling out or have gone in separate paths, they are still your best friend.

Contemplating those things made me realize something; even though my best friend and I had a falling out and we have not spoken in nearly two years, he is still, and will always be my best friend. The person he became, and the way that he treated me in the end does not change the good he did for my life for ten years. It does not change the love I feel for him. My best friend saw me through a lot; weight loss, depression, anxiety, bouts of loneliness, the death of my father, etc. I will forever love him for our friendship, and for what he has done for me.

He is not in my life any longer. I do not see him being in my life ever again. But he will forever be a part of me, and he will always be in my thoughts and prayers. He will always be my best friend.



Jay, I love you. I miss you. I will forever cherish the years we spent together.

Hooray for blogging!

In my first post on this blog, I mentioned that I’ve attempted the whole blogging thing before. This is the third blog I’ve started. The first blog I started was about my life as a mom, but I tried to be all tender and sweet about it, and that’s just not me. Of course I love my son with all my heart and soul, and of course I¬†am a tender and sweet person. Well, I can be, under my blunt and foul-mouthed exterior. Then I started a blog about being Christian. Ok, I bet you just did a double-take, right? Yep, I am a Christian. I love God, and I love reading my bible. I really enjoy writing my opinions and feelings on Christianity(I’m really very different from most Christian women), but the person I was trying to be within that blog(sweet, tender, proper) just wasn’t me. I became really bored with these blogs, not because I’m not as passionate about my parenting or beliefs as I thought I was, but because I just wasn’t being my true self.

With this blog, I have vowed to completely be myself. I’m a completely random person that likes to be funny, goes off on tangents in the middle of a subject, has a bit of a foul mouth, and is brutally honest at times. But I am also sweet, kind, and loving. I’m a little bit of everything mixed into one, that’s just me. I want my blog to reflect that completely, and I think I’ve made that happen up to now. I get to write about two things I am very passionate about, and I get to be my crazy ass self. I’m pretty sure this is the definition of having your cake and eating it too.

The best thing about my blogging journey so far has been the amazing feedback I’ve received. I have a lot more followers than I expected to have at this point. I’ve also been averaging a pretty good number of views every day. I was even nominated for a versatile blogging award! Hello ego boost!

I will not become bored writing on this blog. It gives me so much satisfaction on so many different levels, I couldn’t be happier with what this has done for my emotional well-being.

The best business opportunity of my life.

One goal of this blog is to not only share my cooking journey with the world, but to also share my life with the world. I feel like a woman of many hats, as they say. I graduated high school halfway into my junior year(I’m fucking awesome like that), and instead of going to college, I decided to live my life to see where it would take me. Some would say this was a stupid move… When I was in high school, teachers and guidance counselors really pushed going to college. They didn’t care what you went for, as long as you went. Because having a degree means something. It means your educated, it means a career. But even at the age of 17, I knew that was bull shit. And my opinion on that was confirmed several years later when many people I knew went to college, spent what may have been a million fucking dollars, and were having a hard time finding a job with their degree. But anyway, I’ve done many different things since I graduated from high school. I’ve been in customer service, a manager at a clothing store, a pizza delivery driver, a body piercer, etc.

Shortly before I found out I was pregnant, I lost my job. When I got my positive pregnancy test, I was happy, but at the same time I was freaking out on the inside(and outside), because I had no effing job! Who the hell wants to hire a pregnant woman??? This became my first reason for moving back into my mother’s house. I was pregnant, and had no job. Lovely! I started looking for a job, and it was rough. Although I didn’t put in my resume that I was recently knocked up, the pickins were very slim for jobs. The economy was in bad shape, and there just wasn’t much of anything that I could apply for.

At the time, my mother and her then husband were both working as delivery drivers for Domino’s. Yep, we were a pizza delivering family! They were both becoming sick of their jobs there, to the point where they hated going into work. One major downfall to working at a restaurant, is if your manager sucks at being a manager, you get a lot of high-school-bullshit-drama going around the entire place.

It was at that time that my mother had the most amazing idea. Why not open a food delivery service? We would deliver food from local restaurants, and we would deliver it to the soldiers on the military base we live near. It was a perfect idea, because there are boatloads of soldiers on the military base that don’t have cars, and can only leave the base on the weekends. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Four months into my pregnancy, we opened for business. My mother and then husband were the delivery drivers, and I took all the customer orders. We have been open for almost three years.


I fucking love my job. I work from home, and this has allowed me to stay at home with my son since the day he was born. I also get paid well, so as long as business is good(it usually is), I get some pretty decent paychecks. I also love (most)of my customers. I have a lot of respect for our soldiers, and I love being able to provide them with a service they truly appreciate.¬†My job is hard, and I work hard to get everything done. My job goes so far beyond taking customer orders. I have to call the restaurants, email the customers who’ve placed an online order, give the orders to the delivery drivers, take care of payroll at the end of each week, etc. And because I DO work at home, I gotta wrangle a crazy ass toddler while I work. But thankfully I have been blessed with a pretty well-behaved child. Rarely do customers hear him whining on the other end of the line, and he is usually off doing his own thing while mommy gets her work done.

The reason this was the best opportunity of my life is because being self-employed is fucking amazing. There is so much stress involved with working under someone. You have to deal with those fuckwads that don’t know how to run a business, and are on a power trip. You have to deal with twat waffle coworkers that you can’t stand because they are anything besides competent. My bosses include myself, and my mother. And she is pretty much the greatest boss I’ve ever had, and not just because she’s my mother. She knows how to run her business, and she gives a level of customer service that is so far above par. Another reason this was such an amazing opportunity for me, is because it allows me to work AND be at home with my son. I can’t begin to tell you how amazing that is, and how blessed I feel to be able to do that. And lastly, it’s an amazing opportunity because I can pay all of my bills, and take care of my son. Not stressing about bills is pretty much the best feeling ever.

Anybody can start their own business, my mother and her idea is proof of that. We were not wealthy people with a whole lot of money to put into starting up this business. My mother didn’t go to business school. We just had a lot of experience in the restaurant and delivery business, and we didn’t need money or business degrees to do this. If you want to start your own business, do it!! It’s such a freeing experience, and the confidence you gain from it is completely priceless.