Sunday, January 6, 2013
How many licks...
I have a confession. Hi, I'm Angel and I'm addicted to Tootsie Pops. I'm serious, y'all. I have candy containers in EVERY room of the house with nothing but Tootsie Pops. You will never find me without one. At this moment, it's grape; but my faves are cherry and orange. And I absolutely detest the chocolate ones. C'mon, what's with that? There's already chocolate in the middle, they're just being lazy. And redundant. I hate redundancy; it's so repetitive.
These little babies have 60 calories per pop. Not your best snacking choice since they also have NO nutritional value whatsoever. So if you have a 5-6 pop a day addiction like yours truly, that's 360 empty calories sucked down. Literally. But if you compare it to the more evil members of the Candy World, like say Snickers at 273 calories, they really aren't that bad. Right? They are my little 60 calorie food guards, keeping me from snacking on way worse foods. (Someday I'll tell y'all about the Great Puddin Cup Massacre of '09.)
So what brought on this little confession? Jeans. The dreaded, hated, bane of (most) middle aged women's existences. New jeans. I bought a couple of pairs Friday and just broke them out today. Now another tangent. I hate clothes shopping. Loathe it. Would rather have anesthesia-free root canal than go clothes shopping. If I can't buy it online, I'll go in, grab it off the rack or shelf, pay for it and I'm done. Do NOT ever suggest trying it on. I will kill you. Dead. Revive you and kill you again. The only garment I have ever tried on as an adult was my wedding gown. And I tried on exactly ONE gown. And I tried it on again ONCE for alterations. And then I wore it. Most tedious thing ever.
Okay, back to the jeans. As I started to pull them on, struggling, grunting, groaning, wiggling and huffing, I realized something was wrong. My beloved jeans that developed thigh holes last week were the same damn jeans as the ones I couldn't get on my fat ass. WTF?! It was then that I peeled the size sticker off and realized I'd bought a size smaller. On both. Shit. So, determined to not have wasted $20 a pair, I get the blasted things up and zipped. I can sit, bend, breathe, and in spite of the muffin top (think Starbucks muffins), they fit. Huh. I just put on a pair of jeans in a size I haven't worn since pre-kids. With Tootsie Pop in mouth, I do a little happy dance around the bedroom. And then I try to get my phone in my pocket. Not happening. A few more weeks on the Tootsie Pop diet and I should be able to get my hand in my pocket. Yea me!
Now, I want to know something. Have any of y'all ever made it to the center just by licking? Do you know how many licks? Because I sure as hell don't. I have never licked my way to the middle without biting. I just have no patience whatsoever. Can you believe all that rambling for one silly question?