I'm Sick as in Hack! Hack!

I'm sick.

It's not serious. Just a cough that makes the flem rise in my throat so that I end up choking, unable to breathe and giving me visions of passing out gasping for air.

Has anyone ever died of flem suffocation?

When I'm sick I prefer to be like an old dog that curls up in a secret place and dies. I don't want anyone around me. I don't want to bother anyone. I don't want phone calls, or visits at the door to cheer me up, or someone plumping my pillows. Such visits would require me to clean my house and entertain, and I'm just not up to singing and dancing and doing my Margaret Hamilton impersonation quite yet.

My children who also have a cough are different.

"What do you want?" I snap at my 15 year old daughter who has come into my inner sanctum.

"I'm sick," she whines. She pulls the quilt she's wearing closer around her.

"So? What do you want me to do about it? You're thinking I have the superpower of healing?"

"I just want to hang out."

"But I'm sick too, and I don't want to hang out with anyone. Don't you have a sibling somewhere you can hang out with?"

Okay, I know. Bad Mom. When I'm sick I don't care. There is a reason why I didn't become a nurse. I can't stand sick people. They whine and expect you to take care of them and they don't get your death jokes.

"Mom, what's for dinner?" Someone asks.

"I don't know. I don't care. I'm sick. There's the fridge, there's the cupboard, there's the stove. Figure it out."

There's no one else around here that can drive. So I go out in the frigid temperatures taking kids to dance classes, church activities and seminary.

My fifteen year old just walked into my inner sanctum. "What are you doing?" she asks.

"I'm writing about being sick. You want to hear it?" I begin reading to her. "I'm sick. Nothing serious. Just a cough that makes the flem rise..."

"Oh, gross! I'm not listening!" She makes a beeline for the door.

"But it's got you in it!" I call out to her.

"I don't care! It's gross!" she yells back and disappears.

I think I've found the secret to getting them to leave me alone when I'm sick.

*****

Lots to read today. Are you a Twilighter? Or just thinking about reading the books? Or do you hate them but still like reviews. Read my review of New Moon.

As part of my abuse series I've written a post based on an article in Meridian Magazine. Read Church Leaders Urge Us To Stay Married. Now before you read it, just know that I have no problem with Church leaders urging us to stay married. I have a problem with the article written by this particular couple.

But then, I've never been afraid of a little controversy.

The Biggest Loser is Not for Winners

I made the mistake three weeks ago of turning on the show "The Biggest Loser" on the day that I discovered I had lost 6 pounds after a week of dieting.

Now in the real world 6 pounds in one week is a major achievement, almost on par with winning an Oscar. But on "The Biggest Loser", 6 pounds is cause for an all out attack that includes being sent to a shark tank and the very real threat of being kicked off the show, sent home in shame, not as the biggest loser, but as a loser with a big L on your forehead. (Okay, I made up the shark tank thing, but the rest is true).

So how does the average dieter at home process this when they have successfully lost their 1-2 pounds that week (recommended by all dietitions) and are now sitting down in front of the tv with their low-fat cottage cheese and celery sticks.

Now admittedly, these people don't have such silly distractions as family and work to keep them from their weight loss. Their whole lives revolve around that gym where they exercise 30 hours a day until they puke and then exercise some more.

Yeah, that's the exercise plan I want. The one where you end up puking. Honestly, if I had to deal with morning sickness, six of my children wouldn't exist. But let's all get on that band wagon of making yourself sick. I guess that accounts for some of the weight loss.

And lets not forget the professional trainers that gleefully work people so hard that ex-marines break down sobbing. And that was the nice trainer who gloated over that accomplishment.

One guy dropped 18 pounds in one week and he didn't even deliver a baby. I can see what his body is saying "Where the heck is our arm? Don't we have an arm around here somewhere? Quick hang onto every pound because we're losing parts!"

I keep wondering when these people will snap, grab their trainers and serve them on banquet tables with apples in their mouths. Of course this is after the torture process where they pelt them with doughnuts and peanut brittle screaming "this is for the time you made me run up that mountain while I was having a heart attack," and "that's for the time you bridled me and tried to ride me like a horse while holding a twinkie in front of my nose."

Far better to watch "Ruby" the real life story of a severly obese Southern Belle who still lives in the real world as she tries to lose weight. She has friends both male and female who adore her. She's heroic and honest about her journey and most of all it's realistic. Nobody is making her puke and she's able to maintain her dignity.

******

Anne Bradshaw is having another contest. This time it's for the CD by Sara Lyn Baril. Click on Not Entirely British and have a look see.

Weird Shoes - The New Version of Torture Chambers

I've never been a shoe girl. I prefer barefoot or sneakers. However I did find a pair of shoes for my daughter that has left me foaming at the mouth. I can't wear high heels anymore - another reason to lose weight. They're the prettiest high heeled black shoes I've ever seen. As soon as this weight comes off those shoes are mine.

Remember Cinderella and her shoes? How she danced in glass slippers I'll never know. It's probably why her fairy godmother told her to come home at midnight. Any longer and she would have permanently damaged her feet.

So in honor of shoes I bring you these little gems.

This is from the Hannibal Lector line. Anybody up for liver and Chianti?

Barefoot or high heels? Barefoot or high heels?

I just can't make up my mind.

I Know! I'll go with up on my tippy toes high heels and pretend that I'm a ballerina.

So the question now is....

Do I go sensible Oxford schoolteacher/librarian? Or red patent leather Mary Jane schoolgirl? Or gladiator slave master?

Or maybe just a simple platform tippytoe pump.

And here's a couple of choices for the vegan crowd. Notice, no animals suffered for these although with the second one, I'm sure a couple of fairies lost their homes.

However it does look like a porcupine died for this one.

And a couple of fish died for these flip flops.

I hate rats. With a passion. And I'm all for killing off every rat in existence. (I think they're Satan's animal. But do we really need to wear them on our feet? Sigh, but I guess when we kill we're supposed to use every part of the carcass.

And here in Canada it's rude to keep your shoes on when you enter someones home.

Diet Doesn't Mean Die

I am officially on a diet. Yes, I know that's die with a t. And I know that diet is considered a bad word and diets don't work and...

Yet, I'm on a diet, and I'm enjoying it.

Oh, quit twirling your forefinger around your ear and shaking your head. Yes, I said it. I'm enjoying my diet.

I spent years starving myself to fat, yes starving. It's a long story which I'll tell some other time, but it involves having a body that has a very high survival instinct, so that if we were all stranded on an island together and there was no food, I would grow fatter and you would all wither up and die off and I wouldn't even have to resort to cannabalism. I've tried to eat properly and never quite figured it out because if I had I'd be thin and gorgeous the way Inner Anna constantly claims I am.

I'm finally following a program that tells me exactly what to do and what to eat because, darn it, I need someone to do that and since I can't hire a personal chef and trainer, and Oprah won't come to my house in spite of repeated emails, this will have to do.

And I'm enjoying it.

The Curves diet works in phases and I'm in phase one right now. Fourteen hundred calories and the food is good. It's real food. No pre-packaged stuff. No excess chemicals. And next week I get more calories per day for the next three weeks, and then more calories for a month because it's all about raising your metabolism.

See, I left my metabolism somewhere between the Rockies and the deep blue sea and I've been searching for it ever since. I WANT IT BACK!

Things I like about my diet:

1. The food tastes good.
2. I'm pleasantly surprised by how big some of the servings are.
3. I love the control I feel I have.
4. I'm trying new foods and new combinations.
5. I can label foods "Mom" and have a good chance that no one else will eat it.
6.It's not special food so I can eat it for the rest of my life and I don't have to sell any of my children to be on it.
7. I have support whenever I go to the gym. They always ask how I'm doing. There are other women who are doing the same thing. And the Curves staff keeps track of my numbers. Plus it doesn't cost me anything extra, just my fees for the Curves gym.

Things I don't like about my diet:

1. No pizza
2. No chocolate - hold it, there is a chocolate protein shake. So I do get chocolate. Okay, no chocolate bars.
3. Sometimes I'm disappointed by the serving size.
4. Raisin bread calls out to me. So does hot buttered toast. Simple stupid things like that.
5. I have to cook.
6. If someone dares touch my food then I have major freak outs. As in "I can't eat all the stuff you can so when you eat my food you're telling me that you want me to starve to death!"
7. I don't know what to eat when I go to Boston Pizza with my friends.
8. I'm obsessing about food. I've never been a foodie (hence the starvation technique) and I don't like to think about food, but now I'm thinking about it all the time.

And so here it goes. There are a myriad of reasons for me to lose weight. Now if I can just convince my body to let it go.

***********************
Read my review of "My Not-So-Fairy-Tale Life by Julie Wright

More from Aunt Madge

"See, they do ask for me. And you didn't think I had fans."

"One person asked for you. It doesn't mean you have fans. Plural."

"You're just jealous."

"Whatever."

"Admit it Anna, you're jealous."

"I'm letting you use my blog to advertise your blog. How jealous can that be?"

"Because sweetie, you know that by advertising my blog you're getting people to come to yours."

"Aunt Madge, do you see this teenage thing I'm doing with my eyes? I'm rolling them."

"And it's very unattractive. Maybe you should write to me for advice about that bad habit of yours and your jealousy issues. See, there, you're doing it again."

"All right, if there's anybody still reading this, go visit Aunt Madge at askauntmadge.blogspot.com so that she can stop driving me crazy for awhile."

"You know if you keep rolling your eyes that way they might get stuck in the back of your head and you would spend your life looking at your brain."

Contest and Why Can't I Sleep at Night

I like contests. I rarely if ever win, but I keep trying.

Anne Bradshaw currently has a contest going on her website. Just click on the link to find out about it. It involves a book and financial freedom.

Sigh, I guess I have to have some kind of finances to have freedom.

Still battling some depression, tiredness and writer's block. The other night I was really good and got to bed by midnight. I read for awhile and started dozing off so I turned out the light.

And then I was awake all night long.

Why can I doze off with a book and the light on but not when the light is off? And don't tell me to go back to reading, I did, but after a couple of hours I had to get up and move around.

So it was six in the morning before I got to sleep. And can I be productive during the awake hours? Nope, because I'm too tired to write, and there is that writer's block thing.

I'm yawning now and it's 3 in the afternoon. Almost time for the kids to get home and do the runaround between dance, church activities, dinner and whatever.

And now I'm rambling, all so I could put out a post for the contest.

Marley and Me Review

I've posted a review of Marley and Me. I was pleasantly surprised by it.

And to all those out there looking for reviews of books, I would be happy to review yours although I warn you I'll tell you what I really think, not just what you want me to think. I think that's why I wasn't asked for anymore reviews.

But then if your book really is wonderful, there's nothing to worry about.