Holy sh*t...the TUMS can kick in any time now.
I have to confess something: I am OBSESSED with HUMMUS right now. You've had hummus, right? Chick peas...GARLIC...tahini...lemon juice, etc, all blended down into THE DIP OF THE GODS. This appears to be a kick that I'm on right now. Soon I will hate it, but first I will eat it until a) I burn myself out, or b) acid burns a hole through my stomach.
I have been trying to incorporate it into nearly every meal. No, not a lot; I know it's fattening, okay? Let's see:
* Saturday morning I ate it for breakfast on baby carrots. It was great, but then I felt disappointed because I'd already consumed enough calories for breakfast, and it didn't feel breakfasty at all. I looked at the box of raisin bran, and shed a small tear.
Also, it wasn't a very yummy combo with coffee.
* On Sunday I lived the dream and had a canned salmon and hummus sandwich. My only regret is that the hummus wasn't more noticeable.
* Monday: more carrots and hummus at various points of the day. It's also not bad on RITZ crackers, but I'm thinking the calories will add up with an alarming rate. Ditto for ridgy potato chips.
* I also eat it directly off the spoon. This is smart, I'm thinking, because the transport medium has no calories. I'M A FREAKING GENIUS. Oh wait...maybe not; I do this with Nutella as well. This is why I never buy Nutella.
I need more recipes with hummus. It's getting a little repetitive.
There is, of course, another problem besides some nice, churling acid indigestion:
HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE BREATH.
I used to be completely phobic about having bad breath. Or body odour of any kind. I think I still have a phobia of raw onions. If you ever serve me a salad with little slices of raw onion in it, they will be discreetly left behind. And as for fears of not smelling bodily AWESOME? Let us not speak of that one incident with the all natural deodorant, during another phase in my hopeless quest to give up traditional aluminum-filled anti-perspirant for good. Update: still wearing the name brand stuff :(
Actually, I just realised I don't care about the bad breath. Sorry, The Man. If I really want to admit it, it's all going downhill now that I'm 39. I go outside to water the flowers wearing the white shorts that I've probably had since I was 16. They're so completely stretched out, that if I so much as put a dime in the pocket, those things are coming down. I don't even know what's holding them together any longer--oh, yes I do: LOVE.
When I fill up my watering can? I bend right from the waist. Yeah, that's right. I don't give a crap. And my THIRTY NINE YEAR OLD ASS faces right out onto the road. But guess what--NOBODY CARES. They're too busy checking out the 19 year old hotty who walks her dog down my street. Hell, it's too hot for makeup lately, so sometimes I've been going without. How about my giant hair/sponge that sucks up great pints of humidity? I've been throwing that into those stupid hair clips we girls all used to wear--what are they called...butterfly clips? I think these ones came with Ella's doll. That's right, Ella's doll. This means they're pink and purple, and shaped like butterflies, with little sparkly jewels on them.
F*ck it, I'm 39.
Who am I going to be fancy for? THE MAN? Pfft. Chances are, if he looked at me in THAT WAY, I'd probably ask him what the freak he was looking at, and don't even think of touching me, because I'm a human pms water tower, and roughly half of that water is in my FACE, and my t*ts hurt so much these days, that I try to pretend they're not even there, and oh, that reminds me: the underwire snapped in my bra the other day when I stood up, so I just yanked those wire bits out, and I've been wearing the saggy thing sans wire and who cares that it doesn't give me the right LIFT and SEPARATION any longer, because it's
FORTY DEGREES WITH THE HUMIDITY (THAT'S 104 F B*TCHES) AND THE ONLY REASON I'M WEARING A BRA AT ALL IS SO I HAVE SOMETHING TO SWEAT INTO. WHAT YOU DON'T LIKE IT? TOO MUCH INFORMATION?
Better go easy on the hummus tomorrow.