The breast-to-stomach ratio
Say it with me now:
A brownie does not constitute a dairy serving.
A shame, as it would be the very best of ways to get some calcium.
I'm having coffee and, with it, a brownie. Just a little brownie. Tiny, little, homemade brownie. It has some water, an egg, a little bit of oil and whatever is in that package. And, without the oil and egg, it's not really that high in fat.
...Egg! The egg is a protein serving. There. Dairy from the chocolate chips and protein from the egg. It's a meal fit for the gods.
Good thing I've rekindled my romance with the treadmill or all would be lost.
Despite my love of all things chocolate, I'm attempting to take some pounds off. Slowly, gently, and only because working out while watching television makes more sense than sitting on the couch eating chips. Besides, when I'm sweating profusely on an incline for an hour and watching Lost at the same time, I can imagine I'm on that tropical island with Kate and Jin and... why hello, Sawyer. Care to show me where your tent is? Maybe I could massage those bare, yummy shoulders for you. And stuff.
Exercising can be great fun when you're The Maven.
I'm still doing pilates three to four times per week and hope to molest the treadmill in a similar fashion. Before long I'll be a sexy size... well, it doesn't matter what size. My goal is fairly straightforward: when I sit down, I would like it very much if my stomach did not protrude beyond my breasts.
It's the very simple breast-to-stomach ratio.
Considering I'm a "C" cup, this is a feat in itself. It's about the only time in my life when I wish I had the more ample version of bosoms.
Using "bosom" reminds me of Anne of Green Gables, where they kept using the term "bosom buddies". I, being a young girl, used to giggle quietly to myself every time it was said. Now, as a mature woman and mother of three, I know how to properly incorporate the term into my vocabulary.
My bosom buddy is currently Spawnling, as he enjoys my bosoms. Makes sense, right?
I don't know what Anne and her friend Diana had going on, but they quickly made the switch to calling themselves "kindred spirits". Smells like denial to me. A shame, really. That would have stirred things up on that uptight little island a lot more than the girls getting drunk on some sherry. And, come to think of it, Anne ended up with Gilbert, who did look a little feminine. Just sayin'.
Funny story for the Green Gables fans: All three of my siblings still live at home. Hefner is 19 and has Downs Syndrome, so he's excused. Chux0r and Sisterella, however, are in their early-to-mid 20's and haven't moved out yet. A couple of years ago I predicted that they would never leave and would instead inherit my parents' home and adopt a child to help around the house. From then on I've occasionally referred to them as Matthew and Marilla, the brother and sister in the AOGG story who do just that.
Bitch, thy name is Maven. But thou art a funny bitch.
A shame, as it would be the very best of ways to get some calcium.
I'm having coffee and, with it, a brownie. Just a little brownie. Tiny, little, homemade brownie. It has some water, an egg, a little bit of oil and whatever is in that package. And, without the oil and egg, it's not really that high in fat.
...Egg! The egg is a protein serving. There. Dairy from the chocolate chips and protein from the egg. It's a meal fit for the gods.
Good thing I've rekindled my romance with the treadmill or all would be lost.
Despite my love of all things chocolate, I'm attempting to take some pounds off. Slowly, gently, and only because working out while watching television makes more sense than sitting on the couch eating chips. Besides, when I'm sweating profusely on an incline for an hour and watching Lost at the same time, I can imagine I'm on that tropical island with Kate and Jin and... why hello, Sawyer. Care to show me where your tent is? Maybe I could massage those bare, yummy shoulders for you. And stuff.
Exercising can be great fun when you're The Maven.
I'm still doing pilates three to four times per week and hope to molest the treadmill in a similar fashion. Before long I'll be a sexy size... well, it doesn't matter what size. My goal is fairly straightforward: when I sit down, I would like it very much if my stomach did not protrude beyond my breasts.
It's the very simple breast-to-stomach ratio.
Considering I'm a "C" cup, this is a feat in itself. It's about the only time in my life when I wish I had the more ample version of bosoms.
Using "bosom" reminds me of Anne of Green Gables, where they kept using the term "bosom buddies". I, being a young girl, used to giggle quietly to myself every time it was said. Now, as a mature woman and mother of three, I know how to properly incorporate the term into my vocabulary.
My bosom buddy is currently Spawnling, as he enjoys my bosoms. Makes sense, right?
I don't know what Anne and her friend Diana had going on, but they quickly made the switch to calling themselves "kindred spirits". Smells like denial to me. A shame, really. That would have stirred things up on that uptight little island a lot more than the girls getting drunk on some sherry. And, come to think of it, Anne ended up with Gilbert, who did look a little feminine. Just sayin'.
Funny story for the Green Gables fans: All three of my siblings still live at home. Hefner is 19 and has Downs Syndrome, so he's excused. Chux0r and Sisterella, however, are in their early-to-mid 20's and haven't moved out yet. A couple of years ago I predicted that they would never leave and would instead inherit my parents' home and adopt a child to help around the house. From then on I've occasionally referred to them as Matthew and Marilla, the brother and sister in the AOGG story who do just that.
Bitch, thy name is Maven. But thou art a funny bitch.