One Part Prompt/Two Parts Silly

 

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If you were one part human, two parts something else — another animal, a plant, an inanimate object — what would the other two parts be?

Before I started my weight loss programme (not a diet; I don’t do diets), I was one part human/two parts Maltesers.  Now, I am mostly one part human/two parts hungry.

The Hub says I am one part human/two parts vampire i.e. sucked the life right out of him.

Scratch that, he didn’t say anything of the sort.  But he did offer to slice me open to find out.  Consider me one part grateful/two parts terrified.

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Here’s a prompt response I found in my drafts folder:

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y NIGHT! What’s your favorite way to spend Saturday night?

A movie, a large packet of cheese & onion crisps and a glass or three of JC Le Roux’s La Chanson.

I’m writing this post at seven-thirty on Saturday night, in bed with a hot water bottle.  No, the Hub is not giving me the cold shoulder because I was mean about him one too many times (like there’s a limit…); I sneezed today and put out my back.  The power of snot.

Talking of my favourite wine, Number One Son bought me a bottle for Mother’s Day.  Then helped me drink it.

Now he’s Number Two Son.

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Think about an object, an activity, or a cultural phenomenon you really don’t like. Now write a post (tongue in cheek or not — your call!) about why it’s the best thing ever.

Writing responses to WordPress prompts is the best thing ever because it allows me to make fun of the most off-the-wall people on the planet.

No, really.  They are as much fun as dieting.

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Your local electronics store has just started selling time machines, anywhere doors, and invisibility helmets. You can only afford one. Which of these do you buy, and why?

I think I’d buy the invisibility helmet.  I like the idea of walking around scaring people when they see a headless body.

And think of how much weight loss that adds to my non-diet…  No one can call me fathead any more!

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The friendly, English-speaking extraterrestrial you run into outside your house is asking you to recommend the one book, movie, or song that explains what humans are all about. What do you pick?

Of course, it would be an alien that spoke to my headless body, wouldn’t it? Because it wouldn’t know I was weird.

And the book – as you regular readers must surely know – would have to be Ender’s Game, in which we earthlings kick some alien butt.

Damn aliens, coming over here and stealing all our humanity.

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When you do something scary or stressful — bungee jumping, public speaking, etc. — do you prefer to be surrounded by friends or by strangers? Why?

I prefer to be safe in my bedroom, not jumping off or on to platforms, thank you very much.

You are all welcome to crowd in, of course; but I get the window side of the bed.

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You’ve been given the superpower to change one law of nature. How do you use it?

Crisps and Maltesers would be one of my five-a-day.

Do you not know me at all, WordPress?

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What’s the one guilty pleasure you have that’s so good, you no longer feel guilty about it?

Tormenting WordPress Prompters.

Oh, and breaking wind…there’s no smell, now I eat properly.

What?  Nobody comes here for the dainty English refinement – you know that, right?

A Doctor A Day Keeps Flesh-Eating Bugs Away

Thinking of going on a diet

I turn fifty this year; I need to take my health seriously.  I know this because I have received an invitation to attend a health check at my doctor’s surgery.  They would like to test for my risk of developing diabetes, heart disease, stroke and kidney failure.

Understanding Women (Photo credit: Graela)

I suppose the thinking is:

1. We’ll scare her into treating her body like a temple instead of a chocolate sanctuary
2. It will save the NHS money if we catch her before it’s too late and too expensive for this postcode
3. We don’t want her to die; she’s one of our most obedient patients, turning up on time for every appointment, whether voluntary or compulsory; and always taking the full course of antibiotics as instructed

I have never smoked, barely drink, don’t have the energy for late nights and walk every day…but I do like to eat.  ‘Being overweight’ is the top risk factor, according to the leaflet that accompanied the diktat to comply and book an appointment, stat!

Rather like over-filling the car at the petrol pump* and the gas station* exploding because someone belched last night’s spicy curry, I’m a walking time bomb.

*Also half-Brit, half-Yank, apparently: what would that make me? A Yit/Brank/Bank/Brink/Kit/Yurt?

Health (Photo credit: Tax Credits) Yeah, right!   http://taxcredits.net/  

The only reason I hesitate is this: the letter sending my orders to report to base is signed by (you’ll like this, Dianne) the Patient Demographics Officer.  My Doctor doesn’t care enough to send a personal (it doesn’t have to be embossed) invitation to an event that might save my life.  Huh.

Let’s do a pros and cons list to decide if I should embark on a regime that will take over my life but prolong it:

Pros:

• I’ll be healthy
• I’ll be alive
• I’ll make my Patient Demographics Officer happy
• How patient is she?  This could take a while
• The house will smell of fruit
• The house will smell of cooked cabbage
• The house will smell of fart
• The last two are pros because they keep guests away
• That’s a pro because have you seen the price of fruit and veg in this country?  If I eat healthily, I won’t have the money to serve biscuits with my guests’ tea.  How embarrassing
• I won’t get sick, have to go into hospital, contract MRSA and other flesh-eating germs and die
• I’ll live longer.  I’ll even outlive the Hub who won’t join me on a diet, will get sick, have to go into hospital with the flesh-eaters and, well, you know the rest…
• If I live longer and even outlive the Hub, I’ll finally be able to chuck out his junk.  It’s worth dieting for that reason alone
• I’ll finally get back in to my 1982 skinny jeans; I knew I was right to hang onto them
• The house will smell of fruit

Cons:

• I’ll have to give up Maltesers

The cons have it: no diet.

Wisdom I Like

Speaking of diets, which I was (two days ago; keep up, people), I am not bothering: I like food too much.  I am overweight, yes, but I just don’t care that much anymore.  In the past month I have twice read the same piece of wisdom: after a certain age, a woman must choose between her face and her figure.  It means that skinny older women are wrinkled and haggard looking (look at poor Hannah Waterman and her huge weight loss; her figure is great but her face looks dreadful) and we chubby older women might waddle down the street and need to buy two seats on a plane, but we look like infants.  I’ll plump for infantile any day: pass the chocolate.

Hate Moss? I Don’t

What a furore over Kate Moss‘s comment, apparently taken out of context – as if the media would do such a thing! – that ‘Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.’  I’d better state right up front that I have never liked Ms Moss.  It is not jealousy, in spite of my short, fat frame – I think Twiggy is and was gorgeous – no, I think she is an irresponsible and selfish parent and drug users never do it for me.  In this case, however, she has my sympathy: who among us women hasn’t foregone roast potatoes and homemade gravy or a 200g bar of chocolate for a pair of skin-tight jeans and a flat but empty stomach?  Well, not me actually, but that was my choice.  I get that many women do forego nutrition and deliciousness in the quest to be thin, or at least thinner.  I have been thin, and liked it.  I also took it for granted and ate what I liked.  I liked a lot.  I have no-one to blame but myself, and nothing to lose but my desire for tasty grub.  I have dieted, reached my goal weight, and put it all back on again.  I have reached the point in my life where I have decided that nothing feels as good as chocolate tastes, and I have stopped fighting the inevitable flab.  I am sensible and I try not to overeat, but I won’t give up my daily packet of cheese & onion crisps.  Again, that’s my choice; but many women don’t feel that way, for whatever reason.  Let them be thin if they want to, and diet if they need to; but don’t denounce Ms Moss for her honesty: her job depends on her size; presumably, work offers would dry up if she fattens out.  Who made that rule?  The media.  It’s really quite bad-mannered and hypocritical of them to round on a victim of their success in this way.