These Things Should be Outlawed

I Cheated.

Even though I don't want to think like that anymore. I don't want to think there are good and bad foods. Foods aren't intrinsically good and/or evil. I can cheat on my husband but I'm not breaking any vows I took with an artichoke years ago if I slurp some pound cake milkshake. But still. I did the nasty. With food. But you must understand - there was a chocolate fountain and everything. If I could have only found a straw, I'd have had a place to sit all fucking afternoon!


This was all because one of my co-workers retired and there was a reception for her. Yes, there was fruit and cheese to choose from. It's not like I was in the "Abu Ghraib" room of our building strapped to a desk forced to eat mini-cheesecakes with a barking German Shepherd in front of me. But there may as well have been. So, did I make the good strawberry/cheese choice or the brownie/cake choice?

Cheatin' Fatima

Weird Fatima

I promised that I would publicly proclaim all of my loved ones' weird proclivities - but I'm not sure I've done one on myself - and I'm just far too lazy to go back through all my old posts to see if I have or not. Now my wierdnesses could fill volumes but I'll pick just one for now and it has to do with food because, well, that was kind of what this blog was supposed to be about - but we've gone off on all kinds of tangents since the onset of Fatima Ponders.

Anyway, here's one of my former favorite recipes (I say former because I don't plan on eating like this anymore, but I would still eat a pound of it if it were placed in front of me.) What you do is cook up a huge pot of rice with cut up chicken and black-eyed peas. This is sort of a version of Southern "Hoppin' Johns." Anyway, to this I add Tabasco sauce and mayonnaise. Looks like an abortion in a bowl but in fact, it's an orgasm for the mouth!!!!

Black-eyed-Fatima

One day....

One day...I will tell you all about boys, sex, your developing body, who to trust and who not to trust and why; how to manage your money (not that I've really learned that one yet; perhaps we'll learn that together!); all about life before you and funny stories about your sisters; how much I love your daddy; I'll tell you about your Grammy and your Grandpa who died way before their time and before they could get to know and love you; I'll tell you about growing up in California; drugs & smoking; we'll talk about ignoring the media and that your body is wonderfully crafted by God no matter what flaws you think you may have; we'll talk about funny shows, movies and good music; I'll take you to your first concert because that's what I did with your sisters. I just hope this time the artist will be better than Paula Abdul and Christina Aguilera. I'll tell you about how me and your dad met; about pets we had that you never knew; I'll tell you about God and how much you're a child of the universe and loved beyond belief; I'll tell you about your crazy Grandma and your Aunt Jenny (and beware, because they are C-R-A-Z-Y); I'll try to explain math to you but my advice would be to talk to one of your sisters. I may be a financial analyst, but don't be fooled by titles. We'll talk about college, and birth control; and how to drive safely; we'll fight over your clothes, the piercings you want, and we'll argue when I think it's time you get off your ass and get a job. We'll argue about the junk food you'll consume when you're a teenager. We'll argue over "designer" clothes versus "sale" clothes. When I get extremely tired of you and your attitude, I'll send you to your Auntie Paula's for the weekend. We'll argue about redecorating your room; throwing out old toys and clothes, and I'll forgive you every time you look at me with sheer disgust in your eyes and say, "I hate you and I hope I'm never anything like you when I grow up."

But for now, I relish in our cuddling, our tickling, the funny way you pronounce words, all your innocent goodness, I love to watch you sleep; I even love your bad morning breath because it's yours. I love surprising you with little things; I love that you are a little daredevil; I love that you are sweet and kind to people and give out lots of hugs; I love you even when you are so bad I could throw you across the room; I love when you deliberately disobey because you are developing your little personality; I love how you laugh at your own farts (and other people's too!); I love shopping with you; taking you to see Santa and the Easter Bunny. Basically, I love you so much it brings tears to my eyes at least 2 to 3 times a week. So, even though we have all those other things to look forward to in the future, I know from experience that these precious years go by all too quickly. You're my one and only little Beana.

Love, Mommy Fatima

....And on a Brighter Note...

I lost a dress size! Hoo hoo! I've been eating so much oatmeal and organic blueberries, I'm beginning to look like Violet Beauregarde - um, except a much, much smaller version!

Smaller Fatima

Ode to "Dudley"

My "Dudley" passed away November 2005. He was my dad. We had a love/hate relationship which is far too complex to get into now. But every little girl loves her daddy no matter what. He had problems like all of us - but he loved me. This much I know is true.

This is by the group Bread, which any of you over the age of 35 or so should remember. Music and Lyrics by David Gates.

You sheltered me from harm, kept me warm, kept me warm

You gave my life to me, set me free, set me free

The finest years I ever knew, were all the years I had with you

Chorus: I would give anything I own, give up my life, my heart, my home

I would give anything I own, just to have you back again

You taught me how to laugh, what it solved, what it solved

You never said too much, but still you showed the way

And I knew from watching you

Nobody else could ever know, the part of me that can't let go (chorus)

Is there someone you know, you're loving them so

But taking them all for granted

You may lose them one day, someone takes them away

And they don't hear the words you long to say (chorus) Just to touch you once again

Fatima-misses-daddy

Whole Foods Rock

http://www.wholefoodsmarket.com/

Whole foods is the way to go - at least for me. The more and more I read, and I read a lot, we need water, minerals, vitamins, oxygen (duh), exercise and food. But not the crappy processed food we find in most markets. I cannot even begin to tell you how much better and healthier I feel eating whole foods to include all fruits, veggies, meats, very grainy breads, whole wheat couscous, brown rice, whole wheat pasta, nuts, raisins, almonds, etc.

We took our 3- year old there and the only thing she didn't like (in fact she spit it on the floor much to my dismay) were their version of gummy snacks. She loved their version of "Nutrigrain Bars" - and I had one a couple days later and couldn't tell the difference.

They're a little pricey on some things, but I once read something a doctor said. She said, "either pay the grocer now, or the doctor (or undertaker) later." Good words to live by.

Whole Fatima

P.S. I rejoined Curves; got bored with my gym. Gotta switch things up from time to time. Plus my mom is moving here in May and she'll want to go to Curves with me, because God forbid she'd go to a gym where there might be men!!! Oy.

Things I Don't Care About...

...why Nick & Jessica's marriage didn't work out
...how much trans fat is in margarine, or anything for that matter
...what the difference is between Wii and XBox 360, and PlayStation and all that silly crap
...the difference between Sunnis and Shias and why the hell they can't get along for the love of God

...what Chicken McNuggets are really made of
...who Miss America is. Who is she anyway?
...how a hybrid engine works
...Are "No Doubt" still a group?

...What's the difference between gel and acrylic nails?

...the advantages of crate training your dog versus not going so

...new guidelines of reporting greenhouse gas emissions

...who Rosie O'Donnell hates now

...What I should check on my portfolio every 6 months; hell I can hardly spell portfolio

...Your weekend. I only asked to be courteous.

...If an actor hates Jews, women, gays, rulers, SUVs, laptops - hell I don't give two shits

...Whether or not there's a sound in the woods when a tree falls and no one's around.

...all about your dog's pedigree; or even all about your dog at all.

...who's really the father of Dannielynn Marshall Smith Stern

...when your kid was potty-trained, or how many sports they play in, or what their grades are

...what "x" is, and why do all math teachers want to know that anyway?

Fatima-Doesn't-Care

Someone Needs to Bitch-slap Them Both and I Think it Should be me!

Found myself up early for a change on Saturday -no dog, husband, toddler, etc. I attempted to watch the news but they were all simultaneously on commercial break. So I flipped through channels until I found the Paris & Nicole: Interns show. Now normally, I 'd change the channel as soon as I could find the remote, but this one was a little humorous (let's face it, they all are just a little humorous). They were in a bakery making (or attempting) to make cakes and cupcakes.

It was like watching that famous "I Love Lucy" episode where Ethel and Lucy are at the candy factory. Anyway, after they failed miserably this heavy-set black woman who's probably been working since work was in vented told them that if they didn't shape up, they weren't going to get their daily paycheck, to which Paris mockingly groaned a sort of combination of "ohhhhhh," and "waaaaaa." Now, I immediately wanted to reach through the TV and bitch slap her, but c'mon, does that poor, disillusioned lady really think $8.48 makes a world of different to PARIS HILTON" Hell, that isn't even her cap ride home, not to mention she could buy the freaking cookie factory if she wanted to.

People-Fatima-Wants-to-Maim

Happy St. Patty's Day - Be Safe

Irish they were and drunk for sure and they sat in the comer of Mulligan's newly refurbished bar.


Across the wall opposite was a huge mirror, fourteen feet long and stretching from floor to ceiling.


Glancing around the room Pat suddenly spotted their reflection in the mirror. 'Mick, Mick, he whispered. 'Don't look now but there's two fellas over there the image of us!' '


In the name of God, said Mick, spotting the reflection. 'They're wearing identical clothes and everything.'


'They are indeed, said Pat. 'I'm going to buy them a drink.' But as Pat started to rise from his seat, Mick said, 'Sit down Pat one of them's coming over!'





McFatima O'toole

My Visit to the Crazy Doctor

Fatima waddled in to the shrink's office yesterday. I'm not totally crazy about this guy. I'm sure he knows what he's doing, but I think he was absent on the "How to be Personable" day in med school. He has a bit of a superior attitude, although I've had a long history of dealing with 'resident douchebags' and I frequently find ways to subtly knock them down a notch or two from their self-proclaimed pedestals. I often wonder why certain people get into certain career fields, don't you?

And here's just a bit of my own prejudice. I consider myself an ardent feminist, yet there are still some manly traits I believe men should have, and one of them is not being effeminate - unless of course you're gay. Another is hyphenating your name. WTF? I'm not even a huge fan when women do it, but okay. But he has a hyphenated last name. What the hell. Here doc, try these words out for size:

"No, honey. I'm not hyphenating our two names. If you choose to, fine. If you want to keep your maiden name, fine. But I'm not hyphenating my name. Why? Because I'll look like a pussy. End of story."

Bottom line - I'm now on my happy pills and he and I talk, we're talking about my weight, eating disorder/bad self image issues.

www.offthemark.com

Fatimah-on-the couch

A Girl Can Dream, Can't She?

If I were a rich girl....

I'd look like this:

I'd be married to him:

we'd live here:

and this is what we'd look at every night:

Fatima-Sniffing-Glue

(...and back to my real, boring, life. Boo)

WWDMD?

What Would Dave Matthews Do if he were feeling a little blue? He'd drink, smoke, dance, be merry and make wonderful music. He'd take life's lemons and make lemonade. Today, I'll make lemonade in honor of Dave.

"Celebrate we will

Because life is short but sweet for certain

We're climbing two by two

To be sure these days continue

These things we cannot change."

Fatima-thinking-of-Dave

Click Here for Instant Help

I love the author Augusten Burroughs. If you haven't read anything by him yet, stop what you're doing immediately and get to Borders or Barnes & Noble and spend the next week or two catching up. Call in sick to work if you need to. He's poignant, touching, painfully honest and hilarious. And so, because I'm such a huge fan of his, I check out his website at least twice a month to see what's new. He's at www.augusten.com.

Anyhow, he now has a section of all of his favorite sites/links, and one is:

www.vermontclothingstore.com - and to my amazement they have a button on their website which says - and I quote - "Click Here for Instant Help." Can you imagine? Have you ever seen such help in your lifetime? And so I clicked. I told them I need some anti-depressants, some anti-anxiety meds, a part-time housekeeper, help with training our dog, our toddler, one personal trainer to come over 3 times a week, a part-time dietitian, and some therapy - perhaps once a week or at least until I get out of this blue funk I'm in. I'm hoping that their little button was meant to be taken literally, but I've received no phone calls or knocks on my door yet. I'm sure they're just gathering their little group of professionals and getting them all ready for me....

Which brings me to this. I'll be back in therapy as of next week. Seems every few years, I find myself in need of someone to talk to, and someone to medicate me. After much soul searching I believe I need to stay on anti-depressant meds from now on. I tend to fall into that trap of believing that when I feel all is well, I go off the meds. Perhaps I'm just hard-wired to look at the cup as half-empty. Genes from both mom and pop probably prevail in that area. They were/are both depressed but never took anything for it.

I've never brought up my weight/eating issues up to a professional before; I'll be sure to share the insights.

Nuttier-than-a-holiday-fruitcake-Fatima

P.S. If you loved Gary Larsen's cows in The Far Side, you'll probably like the wacky chickens at http://www.savagechickens.com/.

God, Save Me From Your Believers...

Fatima-says-Amen

I'm Bored...

...with life

...with my job

...with exercise

...with eating...anything

...with this weather

...with crappy music

...with TV

...with feel-good books

...with my marriage

...with Baltimore

...with meetings which produce nothing but more meetings

...with idiots in meetings who think they have unique ideas (not)

...with Britney Spears, Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan, and with how many more children Brangelina will adopt

...with my clothes

...with the Internet

...with being bored

I need a battle of some sort. Not exactly drama in my life but I need to battle a bad guy. Except I can't even think of anything at all that interests me enough to fight for. I want to punch something or someone - although I'm not even quite sure why. I want to go to therapy and scream at a professional "I'm bored! Make me better!!" and have him/her look at me like I'm crazy. At least that would be interesting.

Fatima-in-need

A Time for Every Season

.....and today it was time for chocolate. I must find other ways to comfort myself from life's little crapload. Times when your boss is an ass; times when you're late for work; times for when you're sick; feeling lonely, times when you hate studying and wonder why you just didn't take care of all of your education at one time when you were young and unencumbered.

The do-gooders tell you to drink tea, exercise, think positive thoughts. Hmmm. Ok. I've tried all those and they don't bring on the calming wonderfulness that is Hersheys. There must be opiates in chocolates, and if not, I'll pay big money to the person who will please invent the first chocolate-covered-Percoset.

I don't feel bad because I had a piece of chocolate, but I feel bad because that's what I always turn to - and isn't there something better I could do? Maybe I'll start biting my nails.

Fatimah-with-chocolate-in-her-teeth

Daily Muse

Thank God I'm not a clerk in a retail store:

Fatima: Hi. Can I help you?

Poor, Unsuspecting Customer: Yes, where is the Petite Department?

Fatima: We don't have a Petite Department. Now, get the fuck outta here.

My Hero

Et tu Erich? Everyone just wants their 15 minutes of fame.............

One day you wake up and realize you're not your kids' hero anymore. You've been replaced by either a movie or a sports star, some cool older kid at school, a rock stud - or..........the dreaded boyfriend. "Oh, but mom, I love him and he loves me, and you just don't understand..." Yeah. Whatever.

And so it was that when my oldest daughter was in her senior year of high school, she was desperately in love. And I was ignored. And when I was spoken to, all conversations ended up being "all about Erich." I knew his favorite kind of ice cream, his favorite TV shows, I knew all about his family, his friends, what made him angry, the kind of clothes he wore, what music he was listening to at any given time of the day or night, his pet name for my daughter (urrgghhh!), and whatever "cute" things he had just done or said. I didn't like it. Therefore, I was sure not to like him, right? Wrong.

I was going to try not to like him. I was going to try and talk some sense into my daughter. I was going to remind her of her "feminist" roots; how she didn't need a man, how the best years of her life were ahead of her; college was beckoning; travel, fame and fortune were all at her fingertips. I was going to secretly relish in their fights and arguments - waiting for just the opportune time to tell her, "I told you so!" I was going to hold her when she cried, and together we were going to call him a "Son of a bitch," we would cry, we would laugh, we would eat Ben & Jerry's ice cream, and then we would move on with our lives, and he would be a distant memory in a scrapbook. But then I met him. And then I fell in love too.

He was a boy when I met him, but he has proven over time to be a man. He's overcome obstacles that most people will never know about or (thank God) have to encounter in their lives; he's seen good friends die in war; he's been to war three times and will go again shortly and he isn't even 25 yet; he loves sappy C/W love songs but yet also loves the most violent gangster movies; he's jumped out of perfectly good airplanes.........many times; he's maintained his goofy sense of humor; he's sweet and loving to his 3-year old sister-in-law (who once, by the way, threw up in his mouth); he indulges Alex on her shopping sprees and puts up with her mouth; cleans our house; takes out our trash; and talks non-stop military crap, war, fighting, etc., with his father-in-law which keeps them both happy. But most importantly - he puts up with my shit and my mouth, and for those of you who know me, that's saying a lot. Their marriage hasn't been perfect - they've had their ups and downs. Who hasn't? But they both rose above all the deployments and the turmoil of military life, and endured the young-love fights and adjustment arguments.

But back to me! I hadn't quite noticed how much he'd become a part of my life until they split up for a short time. I had to drive to NC and help my daughter pack up all of her worldly possessions, and ended up spending a good bit of that weekend in the bathroom crying. How was it that I could let this boy in my life, love him, watch my other children adore him, watch his wife cry over him, and then just give him back up to the world and never see him again?

And then one day I'd had my fill of all their problems. As much pain as they both were in, there was nothing either one of them had endured that hasn't long been endured and cried over by any long-standing married couple. Hurt is universal; it doesn't belong to them exclusively. I looked at my daughter - and all the faded memories from years gone by came back. Instead of me trying to tell her she was better off without him; I realized that she wasn't better off without him. And neither was I. I was going to miss him - and the hell with my daughter, I'd be damned if I was going to let him walk that easily. We sat them both down and asked them if they thought they were the only two people on earth who'd ever been hurt. They both stammered for a minute. And then we reminded them that if you leave everyone in life who ever hurts you, you'll end up alone. Everyone will hurt; everyone will disappoint; everyone will let you down. Enough. Put away your tissues. This isn't dress rehearsal. This is all you get. Get on with your life. And they did. For once in their lives, they listened to us. And now Fatima is happy. Because she didn't have to say goodbye to "The Boy." I miss him. I love him dearly. He's my hero and my only son.

Fatima-in-law

I'm Baaaaaaccckkkk

Fatima's back now after a short break. Busy, busy, busy at work - and then too tired when I get home to be a "good little blogger."

Went to Weight Watchers last night - 2.8 more pounds were shed. Yay! I think my total now is around 10-12 pounds. Hoo hoo. So, what did I do last night to celebrate? Stopped at Red Lobster on my way home from WW and got a slice of Vanilla Bean Cheesecake! It was an orgasm for the mouth!

Fatima