That’s some Salty Language

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It’s Thursday again, and the 2nd one in Keto.  I don’t want to sound too optimistic, because Murphy’s out there with his big book of laws, but I do believe I’m getting the hang of this thing.

Last week, Thursday, I wanted a Coke.  Every cell in my body wanted a Coke.  So I made a sweet-ish fat bomb instead.  Ate one of those.

And the rest are sitting in my freezer, ready and waiting for the next sweet-demand to hit.

 

bowl-potato-chips-fbFriday strolled on in with the next carb-heavy demand from my stomach.  I wanted potato chips.  Salty, crunchy, greasy little carb-wafers..the really good ones, where you lick the grease and salt from your fingers, your lips, and (if you’re a REALLY messy eater) pick the crumbs from between cleavage to get every last morsel of fatty, salty, potato-y decadence.

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Mmmm – fat and salt.  By themselves, easy to ignore.  But together?  You might as well paint them luminescent green and stick a big red ‘S’ on my chest, because that combination is my Kryptonite.

But instead of running to the store or the evil vending machine in the break room, I pulled a Google search to see if I couldn’t find salty/crunchy fat bombs to soothe this latest assault on my willpower.

Yup.  Some interesting ideas surfaced.

Mixing cream cheese with Italian herbs and a dash of sun dried tomato, smearing a bit on toasted pepperoni – pizza fat bomb!

Cream cheese mixed with Mediterranean herbs, smeared on crispy bacon.

Melting little piles of hard cheese (Parmesan, Asiago, sharp white Cheddar) in the oven until crisp.

Nuking wedges of American cheese in the microwave – again, until crisp – makes keto style cheese nips.

The one I focused on, as it was a simple run to the store – was using pork rinds to scoop flavored cream cheese.  Mmmmm – onion & chive creamy goodness and a slightly salty crunch from the pork rinds.

So long, potato chips.  Have fun hanging out with the Coke!

 

Now, I may well be imagining things, as a week and change is hardly enough time to really start melting fats, but I believe my pants may be JUUUUST a bit looser.

The other body change that I’m ecstatic about since starting this Keto thing – is my frequent heartburn.  I figured I’d be heavy into almonds or other nut-meats to combat the raging heartburn I’ve fought for over 25 years, or back to the tums.  After all, in the past, when I’d consume anything really spicy & fatty (say…pizza with loads of pepperoni and/or a tomato sauce) I’d be paying for it in pain for the rest of the day.

Nope.  My heartburn is all but gone.  The only time I had to take a tums was with the faux-tato salad I made, and a single tums wiped it completely out.

I’m starting to realize how inefficient and wrong the American Dietary Recommendations are for the human body.  Is there a single segment of ‘Public Health’ that cares about actual Public Health anymore?  Or are they all just visible marketing mouthpieces for Corporate Food & Drug?

 

Here’s how this week went:

Friday – needed chips.  Solved chip dilemma without resorting to salty language, eye patches, or peg-legs. (Arrrr – avast, ye’ dogs, an’ get to swabbin’ the deck!)

Saturday – My Keto buddy recommended Mio flavoring drops, so I grabbed a few on my latest trip to the store (I should buy stock in Woodman’s, as I’m probably propping up their sales) including Mocha Java.  This one does have a few carbs, so I’ll have to be careful with it – but damn – I can have sweet coffee drinks!

I mixed 2 T of heavy cream with a teaspoon of the Mio, and tried to get a froth going with the immersion blender, only to realize I needed more volume (and more servings) to get coffee whipped cream.  Not one to abandon a perfectly good food-project, I drank the stuff straight out of the glass. HOLY COW – WHAT A COFFEE RUSH!  Next time, I’ll take K’s advice, and mix it with a tall glass of ice water.

Sunday – OK…I have a new way to love veggies.  Roasted broccoli & cauliflower with onions, green pepper & garlic in olive oil – mixed them all together, spread on a pan, and into the oven until slightly browned.

Monday.  Oh.  My.  Gawd.  I can have PIZZA!  I found low-carb tortillas (5 net carb) at the store.  Topped with a white sauce made of several blended cheeses & spices I also found at the store, some chicken, green pepper, onion, cheese & bacon.  No need for bready crusts 😀

Tuesday.  I survived a trip to the movies.  You know how EVERYTHING at the concession stand is carb-loaded?  Not a single kernel of popcorn passed these lips.  (The movie was awesome, too…)

Wednesday.  Mixed some Orange Vanilla Mio drops the same way I do the Mocha Java ones – in a tall glass with ice & water.  YUMMMMM…orange creamcicle for breakfast.

When I’ve time this weekend, I want to try a greater volume of heavy cream, the Mio flavoring drops, and my immersion blender again.

I WILL have flavored whipped cream.

Witness…200881_1

 

 

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Let’s Discuss Underwear

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Specifically…the ultimate in torture-wear for all the ladies – the vile and demonic brassiere!

Sorry fellas, but unless you cross-dress (no judgements, here!) this is not a post for you.  And if you DO cross-dress – do you have any pointers??

Anyone else out there count their favorite time of day the glorious moment in time when you are home for the night – shedding outdoor and/or work clothing to slide into comfy pajamas – reveling in the freedom that comes from taking the bra OFF?

Yea…I live for that moment…

In ShapeAs my body shape will never be described as svelte, thin, shapely, or firm, bras have always been a constant source of aggravation.  The band is either too tight, too small, too loose, too big, too stretchy, not stretchy enough or difficult to fasten.

The cups are a blend of itchy, scratchy, padded too much, padded not enough (sometimes both at the same time!), or they gap and pucker in all the wrong places.  They either offer support in unexpected places (hey…a girl’s got to breathe…ok???) or no support at all.  The straps are too wide, and cut into my neck, or too narrow, to slide down my shoulders.

To solve these horrific dilemma, manufactures of gadgetry all across the globe have offered up a cornucopia of straps, buckles, pads, inserts and other assorted doodads to solve the average large-breasted lady’s ‘unmentionables’ issues.

Bra collageWhy not come up with a better bra???

Yea, I know the answer to that one (as most of you already do), but I’m gonna spell it out anyway just because I’m in that kind of mood:  Mass Production of consumer goods equals the “One Size Fits All” mindset – and the minority of those who do NOT fit don’t matter…so we’ll flood the market with ‘one size fits most’ (to avoid pesky litigation in the false advertising arena), and sell more useless crap to those who don’t conform.  Win/Win for those selling stuff – frustration for those of us who can’t find a damm bra that actually FITS.

My…I’m prickly today…

I broke the ONLY bra I currently own which I don’t loathe about a week ago…leaving me to be jammed into one rescued from the dark recesses of my closet floor because the straps are afraid of heights.  Ironically – this meme showed up on Facebook the same day the under-wire snapped.

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Tell me Karma doesn’t have a twisted sense of humor… >:D

Soooo… I find I’m being forced to forge into intimates shops to find a replacement…and at this time of year, with the militant shoppers at every parking lot and department store in every city on top of the whole “I HATE clothing shopping” thing I have going for me – I haven’t plucked up the determination to do so yet.

It’s far easier to just grouse about ill-fitting underthings.

The traditional bra shopping routine follows the same, bitter path every time I venture out  –  upon entering the store, I’m accosted by all the trendy offerings (blossoms of pattern, lace, and color), not a one of which is sold in my size, and I dejectedly tramp toward the ‘women’s’ section.  A wall of bland, monochrome colors greet me – whites, blacks, greys, beiges.  No patterning, no frills, no color:  just an ugly selection of rounded-off triangular ends, heavy seams, thick straps, entirely utilitarian over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders are offered.

The only bright colors in evidence are on the hangars and tags.

In this arena, size is the only consideration (there, guys…feel better?), because there’s nothing available that shows an ounce of ‘style’ or originality.

I’ll take several of the least offensive into the changing room, decide in the minute I have each on that it’s not a very good fit, and disgustedly settle for the least of the assorted evils once I get frustrated and give up on the excursion as an exercise in futility.

first world problems, yes?

I’ve lost count of the number of bras I’ve owned through the years using this method of selection – most of which get slingshot into a dark corner of my closet to become chew-toys for the cats.

(I’m sure there’s a boob joke in there somewhere…but I’m too irritated to find it…)

The DIL(2B) and I had a few bra discussions when she moved in with me – she’s fairly well obsessed with this slingshot/torture device that society makes women wear to contain the curves – so after the holidays, when the furor of shopping because ‘everyone’s doing it’ dies down, we’ll have a girls shopping day, and try once again to get me a bra that actually fits.

We might just have to stop for some ‘liquid encouragement’ first…