Posted by Sherry , Monday, March 7, 2011 Monday, March 07, 2011
There are two Rubys in my life that are causing me giant heartburn. Heartburn so intense and so firey that sometimes the only thing that can squelch it is one (or seven) vanilla buttercream filled chocolate easter egg.
As a child, the only time I could find such sinful goodness was around Easter. There were about two blissful weeks of being able to walk into any Walgreens, any CVS, any grocery store, any gas station! in the country and pick up a Cadbury cream egg (or seven).
Luckily, the great marketing minds at Russel Stover and the like have figured out that most Americans are willing to eat Easter candy ALL YEAR LONG if you'll let us. Our willingness to stuff our faces with cream filled, pastel colored chocolate and fluffy corn syrup got someone over there at the candy factory a GIANT RAISE. He or she figured out that you can shape that chocolate shit into ANYTHING: a heart at Valentine's day, a Santa at Christmas, a pumpkin at Halloween, a flag on the freakin' fourth of July. If there was an adult diaper-shaped chocolate cream candy for Grandparents day, I'd eat it (or seven).
Its chocolate, its creamy in the middle and its under .99 cents. Put it in the bag next to my diet coke please.
Even though the only spirituality I can muster up during this season is a silent prayer for afternoons warm enough to shove my kid outside of the house, I thank Jesus every day for Lindt, Cadbury and even the ever-waxy Hershey's for shoving little bits of goodness into bunny shaped packages.
So Ruby number one is only two years old but has already learned that the easiest way to send your mother on an express train to crazy town is to do/say/want the EXACT OPPOSITE of what your mommy wants/says/suggests. For example, “Ruby, let's go upstairs and play.” “No mommy! Downstairs to play!” “Ok, Ruby, let's play downstairs then.” “No mommy! UPSTAIRS!” – all accompanied by dramatic wailing and gnashing of two-year-old molars.
I tried to suggest we scream, yell, disobey and otherwise act insane in the hopes she would instead choose to sit quietly and obey, but psychological warfare does nothing to the minds of determined 2 year olds. You may as well be trying to make Palestine and Israel shake hands and be friends: they just ain't gonna come 'round.
This particular Ruby-incited heartburn is dulled a teeny bit by frequent sips of vodka martinis and long, hot, locked-door baths. Sometimes she protests this concoction but I insist that what's good for the mommy goose is even better for the baby goose.
The other Ruby causing me gastro-distress is the one that you have probably seen lurking about on various talk-shows. She has red hair, lots of gay male friends, a sickeningly sweet southern accent and is a seemingly perfect candidate for weight loss surgery.
I keep running into this Ruby while watching mindless television to help me dull the ache that the other Ruby is causing me. But this woman who makes me want to cry in sympathy and roll my eyes at the same time is causing me heartburn that no Maalox can cure.
Simply: WHY HAS THIS WOMAN NOT HAD WEIGHT LOSS SURGERY? WHY?!!!
So far, every time I've seen her, she mentions that she's put on some of the weight she lost from last season. Namely, 60 pounds. Namely, 15% of the 400 pounds she's lost. Now, if she didn't care about this weight gain, well, frankly, I wouldn't care either. I sincerely believe that if someone is happy being obese, that is their call. I don't believe that 'deep down' they aren't happy or 'deep down' they want to be skinny. On the subject of weight and weight management, I take people at their word because, honestly, I wouldn't want someone second guessing my comfort level with my own body.
But she comes right out and says she's “ashamed”. She says she wants to “get back on track”. And she says she is a “food addict”. She actually has a link on her Web site to the 12 steps food addicts should take. She sees a counselor, a nutritionist. She has trainers and cooks and supportive friends and has done ALL the things that I (and most of you) have done to 'fix' what's broken in our relationships with food. And she's still losing the battle.
So why not call in the reinforcements, already? Why not GET SURGERY? She's already doing the work that you have to do when you have the Lap Band but she's just needs some additional HELP. Help that no trainers, counselors, foodies or network sponsors are able to give. The badge of courage that she (and seemingly the rest of the former fatties in the press) gets from NOT having weight loss surgery is invisible. The badge of courage is invisible because it is covered in the blood, sweat and tears of working SO hard for something that you just can't do by yourself.
She's just sitting there being beautiful and funny and full of life and personal insight and most of all, being dumb.
She's rubbing those two sticks together SO FREAKIN' HARD and the fire keeps dying out. So why hasn't anyone handed her a lighter already? She's earned it. She deserves it.
I willingly admit that I have not seen the season premiere that aired yesterday but I promise that I'm going to download it and watch it this week, if for no other reason than it will give me an air-tight defense as to why I caved and ate Cadbury egg number eight.