My family didn't eat refined sugar when I was growing up. ever. Not even at birthday parties.
Turns out the sugar used in candy bars and marshmallow cereal is bad for you. And since diabetes runs in my family, my parents weren't taking any chances.
(this is my adorable little grandma, who has diabetes)
We practically lived at the health food store, and everyone thought we were crazy.
We were way ahead of our time.
I hated it. I mean, I loved being different, and this definitely made me stand out. But I hated missing out on the candy and chocolate and doughnuts that I saw at my friends houses.
I hated going to an ice cream shop, and being limited to the "sugar-free" options- usually just plain vanilla, or chocolate if we got lucky.
And if there is a dessert table at the party, you know where to find me.
Yup, I've made up for lost time. But it's not really a good thing.
I have no control when it comes to sweet stuff. I don't know if it's the taste or the guilty thrill that makes it so delicious.
Unfortunately, every time I go sugar-crazy, I gain more weight. I'm starting to think the two are related...
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Kurt and I have talked about this a lot. And here is what I've we've decided.
I don't think I'm going to forbid my children to eat sugar (it becomes a million times more tempting when it's off limits), but I am going to monitor it, and make sure we eat it in moderation.
But first, I have to work on that for myself.
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How about you guys? Do you have a special diet, or know someone who does? How do you feel about it? I want to hear about your experiences.
(if you participated int eh challenge, be sure to link up!)
This week on the Internet
Remember that time when I shared my top two marriage tips with all of you? Well, Jennifer from South of Sheridan was so impressed, she asked me to guest post on marriage. My advice is that good.
And then my sister Chantel left town and gave me her password. So I did this.
Now, I want to get to know you. Leave a comment, and include a link to one of your best-written blog posts (not your main blog). And then visit the link posted above you.
When I get nervous, I talk. It's the desperate, fill-the-silence, panicky kind of speaking that is pretty much involuntary. I'll be standing there listening to myself, thinking "Oh gosh, someone needs to stop me!"
It's not pretty.
On Tuesday, I shared my most recent foot-in-the-mouth experience.
And now I want to hear about yours.
A good example would be if that guy from church linked up his side of this story.
Eventually it was all worked out, and my new doctor emailed me my new patient forms, so I can get started on them ahead of time. Sweet.
Except, I can't remember the dates of my last visits to the doctor.
So I called the BYU Health Center, and had them fax me my medical history.
26 pages later...
So here's the thing. A year ago, I had a pretty traumatic event that I'm not going to go into right now (but probably will one day), and I wrote up the sequence of events in the middle of the night by flashlight so that the next day I'd be able to explain it all to the doctor without forgetting anything.
It was on a piece of torn paper. Which I shoved in my pocket the next day heading out the door.
And the handwriting? Even worse than usual.
The next afternoon I was telling my doctor about my scary experience, and he asked if he could make a copy of that paper, so he could reference it later. I said sure.
A few weeks later all the tests were back and I was healthy and I went on with my life.
So why am I bringing this up now?
HE ENTERED THE PAPER INTO MY MEDICAL RECORDS. That torn, crumpled piece of paper that I wrote on by flashlight? Where I hysterically explained some really creepy things that my body was doing, but that later turned out to be not a big deal? I have a copy of it in my hands right now.
And so does my new doctor.
And my health insurance people.
And that nice lady who faxed the records to me. She's probably reading it as we speak- it's better than a novel.
What the heck, doctor? If I had known that this was going to be passed around like a dirty magazine, I would have at least typed it up. And maybe not dropped it in that puddle.
So, I'm thinking that the moral of this story is get a copy of your medical records. You might find something interesting.
Also? If you are going to use Tampons, do not use Tampax Pearl. Trust me on this one.
Yesterday I walked into the break room to heat up my lunch (Spaghettios, baby), and saw a new girl taking out the trash. Wanting to be friendly, I walked up and stuck out my hand.
"Hi, I'm Helena. Are you new here?"
She stared at my hand for a second before saying, "I'm the intern."
I froze.
Crap. Crap crap crap.
I've done this before.
3 times.
I've walked up to this girl on 3 different occasions and introduced myself. I am such a jerk.
"Oh, yeah, I remember. Sorry. You're wearing your hair...." I gestured vaguely to her ponytail. But really, who knows if she was wearing it up last time?
I frantically glanced at the microwave. 45 seconds left. I couldn't just leave.
"...so, you're stepping in for Joel (the janitor) this week while he's in Maine?"
"Yeah."
"Well, that sounds like an awesome internship," I said, smiling nervously (Oh man, someone please come along and shoot me). "I mean, it's sure not the internship of my dreams..." I trailed off, a look of panic growing on my face.
"Um..." she stared at me in disbelief.
A few seconds later the microwave dinged, and I grabbed my food and ran.
Until next time, office intern.
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I'm linking this to my sister's new meme, Small Treasure Tuesdays. Because reaching this level of awkwardness is a treasure.
Do you have any awkward moments you would like to share? Because it would really help me feel better.
Well, when I told Kurt about it, he was all "I'm commanding you to go to the doctor."
(No really, he said "command")
We never went to the doctor when I was growing up. We didn't have health insurance, and so I learned to just tough it out (we were pretty lucky, and never had any serious health problems).
So now that I'm older and have (crappy) health insurance, I still have a hard time taking advantage of it.
Plus, what the heck, Kurt? Command??
"Um, no. You don't get to order me around."
"Whatever, Helena. You ordered me to go to the doctor last month."
"That's different, Kurt. I'm the wife."
"What?? I cook and clean and do the laundry. I'm the wife."
....Well. Round One goes to the man in the apron.
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I'm linking this to the Glass Half Full party, over at Priester's Peace. Because even though going to the doctor is scary, coming home to the smell of your wife's cooking makes it all worth it. Especially when her name is Kurt.
Put a bra on. One with little or no padding works best. This makes it MUCH easier to find the fullest point of your chest, which we will need for step 2.
Step 1. Determining Your Band Size
Tightly measure your ribs, right under your boobs. Your arms should be down. If this measurement is an odd number, round up to the nearest even number. Make a note of the inches. For me, it's 31", so I round up to 32.
That's your band size. I wear a 32 (but a 34 fits on the tightest notch).
A note about notches: The problem with starting on the tightest notch is that as you wear it, the material will stretch. If you're starting on the loosest notch, you can gradually tighten it.
If your band size is an even number, you may want to go up 2 inches. If I was a 34, a 36 might fit better. It depends on the stretch of the material.
Do not add 5 inches! That is an outdated method, which dates back to 1930. Back then bra design was new, and that system does not work with the stretchier materials used today.
Step 2. Determining Your Cup Size
Measure around the fullest part of your chest. Do this loosely. You should be able to fit 2-3 fingers between your chest and the tape measure/string. Make a note of those inches. For me, it's 38".
Now, what's the difference between the cup size measurement and the band size measurement?
Here is the equation, with my numbers: 38-31 = 7.
For each inch of difference, you have a letter.
1 inch = A
2 inches = B
3 inches = C
4 inches = D
5 inches = DD
6 inches = E
7 inches = F
And so on.
So yes, I am a 32 F. Try finding that size in a store.
Which brings me to my next point. What if you are in a store, and you fall in love with a bra, but they don't have it in your size?
If you are normally a 34C, you can try a on 36B. The cups will fit, because the cups on a 34C and a 36B are the same size. The band will be a little loose, but you can try it on it's tightest notch, or work some safety-pin magic (ghetto, but semi-effective).
Where most women go wrong.
Because the cup size is directly related to the band size, if you are fairly slim, you may need a large cup size even though your boobs don't look any bigger than average.
The pros of wearing the correct size:
Your boobs will get better support. Which means they will sag less.
(this is incredibly useful. I learned things, and I'm an expert.)
You're Welcome.
Disclaimer: Using this method will tell you what size to try on first. Bra size can be effected by distribution of body fat, back proportions, or a difference in the manufacturers sizing, among other things. There are many factors that interact with your bra size, and I can't predict them all.
(all uncredited images used in this post have been purchased)
I'm participating in Top Two Tuesday with The Undomestic Momma. This week's topic is Top Two Tips. How perfect.
Tip #1
So....Turns out fighting over Gchat isn't a good idea. Also, text fighting. Not as fun as it sounds.
The main problem with this kind of communication? You can't tell what tone the words were written in.
For example, when Kurt types "You had better not spend any more money this week", but forgets to add a smiley on the end, it comes across as both patronizing and controlling.
My response? "You aren't the boss of me!" (a classic)
It took us 12 hours to figure out that we were fighting about nothing.
That's my first tip- if are about to get offended, maybe you should make sure you've been insulted.
Tip #2
If you ignore my first tip ("what does she know? She's a newlywed"), at least listen to my second one. Once you are really mad, and filled with righteous indignation, You may decide to go shopping.
Don't take your wallet.
That $100 dollar pair of shoes you've been eying won't stand a chance. It's not entirely your fault- A 3 inch heel in that shade of revenge is so hot right now.
I say grab a $5 bill ($10 at the most), and leave your card at home.
This is especially good advice when it was a text fight, because once you guys figure out the whole thing was a misunderstanding, you're going to feel guilty about your shopping spree. And he might cut back on your allowance. It's not worth it.
Tip #3 (Yes, I have 3)
But if you decide to ignore my second tip, please pay attention to my third one.
If you just have to make an expensive purchase, don't buy the shoes. Head on over to Victoria's Secret instead, and buy some very expensive lingerie. It's just as satisfying, and that way when he finds the receipt, you have a chance at distracting him.
"But baby, I bought this for you!"
(And if you think revenge looks good on heels, wait until you see it in lace and leather).
Who says marriage isn't exciting?
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I'm also linking this post to my sister's new meme, Small Treasures Tuesday. Because being married to me is a treasure.
Hey guys, guess what? Shay from Dumplin Design Studio is letting me host a giveaway.
FOR A FREE BLOG MAKEOVER.
Before we get to the details, I'm going to have Shay tell you a little bit about herself.
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Hi, I'm Shay
I am a stay-at-home mom and army wife who LOVES grahic design. We currently live in Fort Knox, KY but Chespeake, VA will always be our home.
What's with the name? When our son was a wee little infant, my husband used to call him crazy off the wall names, including his little "Love Dumplin." I thought this was so cute, that I started using it as well, which kind of ticked off my husband (he likes things to be HIS). After he deployed, that name just stuck with me and I never stopped using it. So, the name is in honor of our son, our little love dumplin.
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Here is an example of Shay's work:
(click to enlarge)
And you can see more of her work here, in her portfolio.
And now for the Giveaway!
Here is what you can win:
**Be sure to leave a separate comment for each entry. That way we won't miss any.
*If your email isn't easy to find, be sure you include it in your comment!
Optional Entries:
1 Entry:Check the latest works in Shay's portfolio. Then come back, and tell us which one is your favorite.
Kurt: "Um, remember how we signed you up for that Independent Study Class?"
Me: "Oh yeah...."
Kurt: "Well, it expires in 6 weeks. And you still haven't started it."
No problem, right? 11 lessons, 2 midterms, and a final. I could probably wait a few weeks before starting it, and be fine.
Still, I decided to humor him, and check it out.
"Read the assigned chapters..."
"Turn in 11 journal entries..."
"Each chapter contains a series of instructor graded assignments that must be completed and turned in together..."
"There will be three exams: 2 midterms, and a final..."
"Finally, you will complete a Family Analysis Paper. This paper will be 33 pages long, and written in 11 segments. For each chapter you complete, you must write a 3 page paper and submit it to the course instructor."
Holy.Crap.
Maybe this whole "Graduating" and "Getting my Degree" thing isn't necessary, after all...
