My new DIET...

I have been forced into a new diet. Not so much because of the reasons I should be on a real diet. Let me explain.

You see, my thighs are the same circumference in inches as my husband’s. Really, this is a true fact. A true fact that I should have never discovered.

I would like to take a minute to address all the ladies out there about an important issue. Please read carefully.

If your husband or significant other ever urges you to start an exercise program by measuring your body parts, JUST SAY NO. If you by chance fall victim of his good looks and persuasion, seek emotional support immediately. Especially, if he observes and says something like, “Look our ______ are the same size!” Otherwise, this emotional scarring has the potential to wear your morale and motivation to participate in any kind of physical exercise or intimacy for the next several months. I repeat, never Never NEVER measure body parts and compare them with your significant other, or...ANYONE!

So, the real reasons for my new diet started with Hurricane Ike. That storm took so much from so many people, but some people take their excuses to the extreme. (I actually heard a woman blame her tight fitting pants on the hurricane. The gym must have been closed.) I feel trite complaining about our loss, but due to the lack of power we had for several days, he left our refrigerator and freezers looking like this:

Actually, I would be an ungrateful and horrible friend if I did not document just how all the food was cleared out. When we got about an hour on our way out of town to ‘evacuate’ our powerless house, I called McCall to see how they had fared through the storm. To my surprise, their home phone rang and she told me they were only without power for a few hours. Because she is so on the ball and one of the most giving people I know, and possibly because she thought we probably wouldn’t take her up on her offer, she asked us if we wanted her to go save any of our warming by the minute food. We hesitated and then gratefully agreed. By the time she

made it to our house, I am positive it reeked and there was lots of melted rotten food all over. She and her son, Brady, took care of it all! Now that is what you call a FRIEND! We love you, McCall!

So you are saying to yourself, get over it already and go buy some food. You see I would, but for the past two days I have been spending a majority of my time battling these little beasts taking food out of my kitchen. No, not my kids. (I have grown used to that kind of beast.) These pests are hundreds of fire ants that are coming in through the cracks of the cabinets and underneath the counter tops.

Who knew ants are fatally attracted to oil? The ones that didn't crawl into my olive or canola oil containers were actually building a mound on our kitchen floor. Honestly, I have no reason to joke about this matter. They are truly going to drive me insane! (Can someone remind me why we live in Texas again: hurricanes, fire ants that bite and sting, and swarms of mosquitoes???)

As part of my explanation, I need to explain a little bit about a genetic trait that I seem to have inheirited from my father. If we ever got ants in our kitchen, it didn’t matter who was there or what food on the counter, out came the can of Raid. More precisely several cans of it. I can do spiders. I can do earwigs. I can even do geckos and roaches (birds and bats are a whole ‘nother story), but when it comes to these swarms of ants I’ve met my match. Blasted marching ants taking over my kitchen!

In conclusion, my new diet is caused by power outages and fire ants and hopefully has the potential to last long enough that I might loose a few inches on my thighs. Actually, I think I would rather have monster thighs than hundreds of ants. Hooray for the pest control guy who comes today at 4 pm! Maybe after I will go see my therapist and make a grocery run.