Lately I’ve been a bit cranky, and a few days ago it seemed to reach a highpoint……
I was chauffeuring the little ones home from Pre-school and Nursery. I was grunting at my oldest for suggesting I changed the radio-station “well maybe your mother would like to listen to this song!?!” (some never heard before french ballad). I was yelling profanities my children should neither hear nor ever repeat at the traffic, and I answered my husband’s phone call (bluetooth – we ride safe) with a “WHAT?!?” in a hissing tone similar to the voice of that little animated guy in The Lord of the Rings who says “precious”. I’m not usually like that, and for a moment I worried that I was showing signs of a mood-disorder! But what I needed to boost my spirits wasn’t Prozac – it was cake!
Let me clarify:
I have been dieting!
Thank the lord a diet that allows caffeine, because without coffee, the slurs I yelled at the traffic would have turned into full-on road rage complete with yelling like the above mentioned hobbit-creature and biting people’s ears off like some female Mike Tyson!
All in all it has been a sensible diet, with the simple aim of losing those last post-pregnancy pounds. It’s not one of those extreme only-eat-pineapple-for-a-week-things, but I have been HUNGRY!! I’m Danish. I’m half pastry for crying out loud! And here I am trying to cut out carbs.
My husband came home from work on this day, and with very few words, let me know that I should go upstairs, lay down for twenty minutes, that we should leave the groceries for the next day and order take-out. When I came back downstairs there was a big order of fried take-out on the table. Crazy hobbit creature emerged again “WHAT IS THIS!!!! THIS ISN’T ON THE DIET!!!”. Without responding my loving husband simply pushed the plate towards me – his mannerism similar to that of someone pushing a steak towards a caged lion. After the first fried mozzarella stick my shoulders began to relax and move away from my ears, after the second my vision seemed less blurry and the room brighter and after the third my voice transformed from hobbit to angelic sweetness!
Then I had a realization! It hit me exactly under which circumstances the descriptive term “skinny bitch” must have derived! No wonder every skinny celebrity is known for being a diva or difficult to work with! These poor woman must be starving! Diva, could in other words be a synonym for low blood sugar! As another example I could point out that no-one ever says “voluptuous bitch”?! And have you ever heard Mr. and Mrs. Claus referred to as anything but Jolly? And they live on milk and cookies!
The question then lingers… do I want to be a “curvy delight” or a”skinny bitch”?! With my husband’s lovingly served fried cheese, I suppose he has made his choice clear.