After being at work all day, coming home and eating a shit ton of cookies, my husband convinces me to go to Trader Joe's. So I do and keep it healthy, all the while thinking to myself "This is it, I am going to eat healthy like those skinny bee-otches that proclaim their undying love for salads." Although I did not, in fact, buy anything to use to make a salad... but that is beside the point.
And sidenote... who the F loves salad? It is cold! You can't warm it to make it be comforting!
Ok- enough... back to my point.
So I think to myself "I will start tomorrow" and decide that since I am going to give up cheese for good, I better get myself something cheesy and bid the lump of delectable cow fat farewell (insert sniff, tear). I pull a sneaky ninja move at the checkout and ask for money over with my debit card... this of course enables me to go buy fast food without Jack Sprat noticing the debit (as I suck at actually carrying cash with me). I think to myself, "Personal Pan Pizza from Pizza Hut drive-through" and motor on over, but not before passing the White Castle and deciding I also needed a small order of Mozzarella sticks.
And yes, I eat them... hey- it isn't the elusive tomorrow, in which I will start over... but I don't want Jack to see me snorking down food as if the apocalypse is coming, so I do my snorking in the car, like usual. Then I felt sick to my stomach... this is because I am lactose intolerant, yet I can't seem to keep away from cheese. I of course have a theory on Women with their Cheese, but that will have to come later, as I already have too many side notes going in this post.
Anyway, so I get home and bring in the groceries... give Jack his lean steak- the original reason I went to good 'ole TJ's- and take a detour into the washroom, where I discover...
... that I had split my pants in front, just below the zipper, yet in full view of the crotchal region. Not quite as bad as the evening of Jock's Nuts, but seriously? The blue paisley panties were in full view.
So here we go again... I know I have said this over and over but thought perhaps I could try using writing as an outlet. Yes, I decided to call my blog Jack Sprat's wife... this is because I feel like that wife that could eat no lean. Or, rather, can eat lean, but only for a couple weeks and then falls back into a rut that results in me feeling too full because I ate too much damn cheese.