The Down-side of a Good Metabolism

Let's talk about food, shall we? I love to eat. The best time of day for eating is about 5 seconds after all the kids are in bed. It's the first moment of the day when I can completely relax, and relaxing sometimes equals food.

When I was a child, my parents would send my sisters and I to bed and then waste no time in plugging in the hot air popcorn popper and pulling out a bag of Mn'M's and pouring them into a GLASS bowl, so that we could hear them chink-chink-chinking into the dish, and our mouths would water as soon as we could smell the butter melting in the microwave. Oh! the taste of real butter on top of steaming popcorn and sprinkled with salt... We lay there in bed, sure that Mom and Dad did this just to show us how much they despised us and loved nothing more than being pure mean. We whispered to each other that if they couldn't indulge while we were there to share the feast with them, then kinder parents would have at least waited until we were asleep and oblivious to the prepping of goodies before they settled in to watch their grown-up television. But I digress.

I have never had a favorite food, but I sometimes order a dish in a restaurant that I don't really like just because it comes with garlic bread. I am a sucker for a good piece of garlic bread. It can't be mushy - it ought to be crispy and full of flavor to the point that if you ate an entire plate of it, you would die from salt overdose. Other than that, I like just about anything that doesn't contain raisins or coconut, ie; the Devil's Food.

It is a sad day around our house when Drew has committed another atrocity and there is no candy or chocolate to provide comfort after cleaning up whatever disaster has occurred. Chocolate is therapeutic, but I must admit that anything conceived of Mr. Wonka is also uplifting. I never grew out of my appreciation for Nerds or the giant, soft SweetTarts that come in a four pack and, unfortunately, two of the flavors have to be lemon and green. That's right, Green. I'm not actually sure what fruit flavor it is supposed to be, so it is referred to as Green.

While we're on the subject, why do food manufacturers insist on putting undesired flavors in the packages with the good flavors? For example, does anyone ever go for a lime popsicle when there are still Banana and Root Beer to be had? Not in our house. We push and shove and knock each other down to get the Root Beer, and then we let the kids choose from whatever is left. People eat the lime popsicles when the only other snacks available are mushy apples or the cookies that a neighbor brought over which nobody will eat because we have never been inside their house and do not know if the kitchen those cookies were baked in is sanitary. (Or because we have been inside and now know that their cat is allowed to preen himself on top of the kitchen counters.)

My mother is a fantastic cook. Anything but grilled cheese, which she will burn, even if she stands right in front of the stove, spatula in hand, staring, waiting for the perfect moment to flip. It's an unfair curse, really. Experimentation is her true forte. She makes a French roast with red cabbage that I can't even explain justly. And pork chops with homemade mango salsa, and Latkes, and just about anything you can imagine. Aside from that, I dare you to find someone who can make a more beautiful, flaky and simply delicious pie crust. You can't. Don't bother. But the meat loaf. I can't tell you how much we dreaded meat loaf when we were kids. The meat loaf itself, was always fine, no complaints. But meat loaf always meant lima beans. Mom used an electric frying pan, put the meat loaf, potato wedges and lima beans all in the pan together and fried it until the meat loaf was done, which meant the potatoes were crisp on the outside and perfectly soft on the inside, but the lima beans were usually blackened. And not in a spicy, Cajun way. They were just black and hard and covered in grease from the meat loaf. We ate them because we were afraid not to, but we hated it. And yes, I can speak for myself and every one of my siblings on that one. Years later, I realized that fried to death and covered in grease is actually the best way to eat a lima bean.

My family is not unique in it's love of food. Every holiday we have our standard favorites that can make or break the buffet spread, but so does everyone else. I had to teach my husband that Crab Dip on Christmas Eve is just that - a dip. Not a side dish. He knows that now, but it doesn't stop him from scooping it by the spoonful onto his plate and then throwing a cracker on top to make it look legitimate.

I grew up never having to worry about how much I ate and where on my body it might land. I was blessed with a metabolism that loved to work over-time. In high school I wore pants 2 sizes too big for me just to make sure they were long enough for my 5 foot 10 and a quarter inch frame. I weighed around 120 pounds. Then came my early twenties and giving birth to two children. About 2 months after Ethan was born, I settled in at an acceptable 135 pounds. Then came Drew, and exactly 10 months after he was born, I finally got back to that blessed 135, and I got there without exercise or dieting. Patience and time is all it took. (Go ahead and hate me now if you want to, but rest assured, my comeuppance is hurtling towards me with frightening speed.) Exactly one week after I returned to that 135 pound pre-baby weight, I found out I was pregnant with a very unexpected fourth baby. (Curse my body for spontaneously deciding to ovulate again without the aid of medication, and curse myself for being so stupid as to think anovulation is acceptable birth control. Not that we don't love Trent to death.)

So here we are, another ten months after child birth, and I cannot get below 142 pounds. Fine. I can live with 142. What I cannot live with is where those 7 extra pounds, plus the last few ounces of breast tissue I had that shrunk into oblivion decided to set up camp. Right behind my belly button. Standing naked in front of the mirror is now comically sad. I look like a character from a Dr. Suess book - dangly arms with a narrow chest which slopes down into a round, protuberant belly, then back into skinny legs. I take comfort that at least I am not as hairy as a Suess creation.

So if the trend continues; 120's in my teen years, 130's in my twenties and 140's as I creep up on my thirties, then I will weigh 180 pounds by the time I am seventy, but it will all be in my mid-section so that my stomach enters a room before I do and may in fact be able to flip light switches up or down of it's own accord if I should happen to turn around too hastily.

And that, Dear Readers, is the plight of me with my super powered metabolism that died off on me after I've lived 29 years and packed them full of bad habits that I will now have to break if I ever want to fit back into my jeans. I have, count them, one..two..three..four..five..six..seven..eight..nine..ten..ELVEN pairs of jeans, and I can only manage to squeeze myself into three of them and retain my ability to walk while slightly bending my knees.

I am going to have to start exercising. I am going to have to stop eating every time I walk through or past the kitchen. I am going to have to change everything I have taught myself about self control, (which so far has only been something that other people have to worry about.)

The bright side is that I came to this realization after we had already made our trip to Washington and eaten like there was no tomorrow. So please enjoy these pictures of people eating that I took while we were away. (I was determined to find a way to post pictures of our trip without actually writing about it, and what do you know? I've done it twice now. I'm sure there will be more!)


ALMOST all the kids eating Tacos in a Bowl at Susie and Nate's house. Wouldn't I love a table this big?


The Kamahaku Family at Mo's. Aren't they beautiful?


Andrew in food heaven. He had been dreaming of Mo's halibut fish n' chips for weeks, and I think all of us enjoyed them more than we should have. I find myself even now, wishing that I had eaten them more slowly.


How come Susie gets to look cute when she eats? Hmm. Anyway, she's eating Cherry Delight which I believe was made especially for Andrew since he is Sandy's favorite child. (He isn't really the favorite, I'm sure, but Sandy does love making her youngest son feel special!)


Cameron and Jayden eating the ice cream that Todd and Andrea brought for all the kids. I don't think that my kids ate a vegetable all week.


Trent apparently loves potato salad. The more dill pickle, the better!