My hubby's on a DIET, and I have PMS

So my hubby comes to me yesterday and says, "I have got to do something about my weight."

Okay.

"I want to sign up for one of those programs where they pre-wrap all of your meals and then you don't even have to think about it."

You mean like when I cook you dinner? I didn't say a word, but my mind starts racing...

"You mean the prepackaged stuff that's so disgusting that when you think about eating it your stomach curls up and all of the sudden you are full? Why didn't I think of that? Seriously, the food tastes like crap, but since it's full of vitamins we somehow think it's okay to eat? Ya know, I should dehydrate all my meals, crush a package of vitamins in them, and sell them on eBay..."

Then he interrupted my thoughts with, "And it only costs four hundred dollars per month!"

Only?

Is the word "only " suppose to make me think, "Wow! Four hundred dollars. Is that all? I mean when you put the word "only" next to it, it sounds affordable. Alone...well it's a car payment, but with "only" next to it...pocket change!"

So my husband continued with his infomercial on this diet food, and I started stressing out. What did I do? I reacted the way any PMS-ing women would! I got a prepackaged ice cream cone out of the freezer (while he was talking to me) unwrapped it, and started eating it in front of him.

When the sugar kicked in, and I finally felt better, I interrupted his infomercial. "No."
Then I had the nerve to start in on him, while I was eating my ice cream cone. "Eating is an emotional issue!" I said as I lick my pre-made ice cream cone. "Prepackaged food is not going to make it better!" I had to take a second, my chocolate topping was starting to melt.

And then my mind started getting smarter (probably from all the preservatives in the ice cream). "Maybe you should get counseling about your food issues first."

Looking back (on yesterday), I realize that I am once again a little weird to live with.

We ended the night with a bag of "prepackaged" microwave popcorn and our favorite TV show.

We decided to discuss the "prepackaged food crap" another time.

Why Dr. Laura Schlessinger Needs Therapy

Okay, eventually I would like to be a therapist who helps empower other women. So I turn to my first instinct, Dr. Laura Schlessinger. What a mistake! The first book I chose was, "10 Stupid Things Couples do to Mess up Their Relationships."

The title of this book should be, "10 Stupid Couples I like to Work With."

I would have read it!

I hate to ruin it for those of you who have never read it, but in a nutshell, it sucks.

Sorry, I just told you the whole book.

This is the part that gets me the most. She is speaking of a husband who likes to check out other women in public, in front of his wife. Yes, he's a moron. The wife is wondering if she should address it or let it go.

Address it.

Good choice, Dr. Laura!

But what really upset me was Dr. Laura's advice on HOW to address it. Are you ready for this?

"If your husband is checking out another woman, you need to yell as loud as you can,
'You're right honey! She is good looking.' "

Yeah. Right!

And then who looks more like an idiot--you or your husband? I'll tell you.

YOU!

So to redeem wives who are stuck with a husband who is chronically checking out other women in public, here is my two cents of advice. You say to your husband, "Excuse me. You are being disrespectful. I am leaving."

Then you get in your car and drive home. You leave your husband at the store/restaurant/ wherever the crap you are, and make him figure out how in the world he is going to get home.

When he calls--which he may--don't answer.

If you're going to answer anyway, you simply say, "I'm sorry, I will not be with someone who is disrespectful. If you choose to be that way, I will not be there. I'm not victim and I won't be treated like a piece of meat." Then you hang up.

He will learn how to treat you.

You will feel empowered and better about yourself. Your marriage will probably improve.

And Dr. Laura listeners will be stuck with crappy husbands who like to be humiliated in public.
So the next time you are in a store and you hear a lady yell, "You're right, Honey! She is good looking!"
Take pity. They are another victim of Dr. Laura's self righteous, poor advice.

Life is a Balancing Act

In case you are wondering... I can't do it all! I know, unfortunately I'm just as surprised as you are. I work, I am at home with my kids, I'm part of a leadership position in my church, my father-in-law is going through chemo (which is absolute hell...in case you've never been through it), and today I got chastised by some hypocrite.

I can't do it anymore.

And you know what's even more pathetic, 80% of my pain is me! I place such high expectations on myself. Then I end up feeling guilty for not meeting all of those expectations.

Where do these expectations come from, and why am I so loyal to them?

I ran a 5k yesterday and finished at 29 minutes. My goal was 30minutes!
Five minutes after the race, when I got done breathing for dear life, and the feeling in my legs began to come back, I turned to my hubby and said, "I'm so proud. Next year my goal is 21 minutes."

Where did I get the number 21 minutes? I have no clue. I just make up these ideas and think, "Yeah, that's good. That's the new rule."

If someone else would have said, "Good job, next time make it 21 minutes."

I would have rubbed their face in my sweaty arm pit and thought, "Moron."

But somehow, I say it to myself and think, "Wow! Great idea!"

I have a lot to learn....

Flowers VS Cold Hard Cash!

Okay, so it's the age old dilemma of wives--I want to be loved and cherished. So I nag and hint and manipulate to inspire him to "surprise" me with something meaningful.

Well, my husband loves to buy me flowers just whenever. By the way, he never buys them when I actually really deserve them. I have birthed three children from my womb, only to find a kiss and hug at the end of my labor. Which is not a good time for any type of "touching" since I felt like a mid size SUV has just been delivered out my front end. By the fourth, I decided I deserved to ask for what I wanted.

"I want flowers!" I demanded with my stomach hanging over my pants.

"What?"

"Flowers! I need flowers at the hospital. This is my fourth kid and you have never bought me flowers!"

"I brought you Wendy's and a shake."

Close enough.

So I give birth to my fourth child, a son, and my hubby not only buys me flowers, he buys me pajamas (which were light pink and completely see through), lotion, and striped panties for chubby chicks.

He is so excited, and when he is not looking, I look at all the tags.

I know.

I'm scum.

But I can't help it. My mind starts calculating (probably incorrectly) all the costs. Then it's like a automatic shopping machine. I cant help it. I start wondering, "If I exchange this, I could get..."

And so the pattern continues with all the "surprises" he gets me. If I were him, I wouldn't buy me a pack of gum. What's the point? I would probably take it back.

"Umm...yes, I need to return this pack of gum. How much was it?"

So, I've learned not to nag or manipulate for surprises unless I can keep my mouth shut and enjoy the moment.

It's people like me that wrap their own presents under the tree, put a tag on it to themselves, and then ask themselves the stupid question, "Why isn't Christmas as fun as it was when I was kid? Where's the magic?"

That's because when you were a kid, you didn't ask Santa if he could take back his present and get you something else that you really liked.

You enjoyed what was given to you and loved it because it was a gift.

My point--I am a hypocrite who is telling women, if you want to be happy, enjoy the flowers and chubby chick panties. More importantly, enjoy the fact your hubby still gives you gifts. That in and of itself is a sweet part of being married.

THERE'S A HOLE IN MY BUCKET...(or PANTS?)

My husband sent me a text me from work today, and I quote, "In the bathroom now, thought I would text you. Things are good here, just a little stinky..."

A little?

I replied with some smart aleck remark when he added, "On a seriously funnier note, I just ripped the butt out of my pants. About an 8 inch hole. Not getting up until it's time to go... Haven't I done this before?"

Three times to be exact.

I told him to stop doing toe touches for everyone in the office. No matter how good he is, they won't give him a raise. (He does awesome toe touches...but that's another story.)

Then he informs me that he won't be coming home between now and buying a new pair of pants. I had to ask where the heck he plans on going so I'm never in THAT store WITH HIM again.

"Wal-Mart."

Oh, never mind, you'll fit right in.

So as I blog, my husband is at Wal-Mart with a "hole" (more like a crater) in his pants, eight inches long.

"You realize that's longer than your butt crack, right?" I try not to patronize him, but, HELLO!

I asked him if he had any safety pins.

"No, but I have some paper clips I think I can use..."

Even better. Now he's at Wal-Mart with paper clips up his butt.

Good luck with that, Honey.

Sometimes as wives, it's better to just laugh than worry about our hubbies seemingly strange ideas!