Easter Traditions

While Sven and I have done a pretty good job compromising between our wildly different native traditions, Easter is the holiday that has given us the most issues.

My parents viewed Easter as the most sacred of holidays and basically refused to participate in any sort of "commercial" aspect.  No Easter baskets in my house growing up!  I remember participating in the occasional egg hunt and dyeing hard-boiled eggs a few times, but beyond that we focused exclusively on the religious aspect of the holiday.

Sven's mom bought them chicks.  These chicks, contrary to conventional wisdom, did not die, but lived for years tormenting neighbor's cats and befouling the backyard.  The occasional fresh eggs were apparently not worth it to my mother-in-law, who slaughtered them all in a fit of pique and did not tell the children whom they were dining upon until the pets had been consumed.

Somewhere between these poles is where we must find our way.  Here are the traditions we have established:

1. Easter eggs: even before we had children, Sven and I colored Easter eggs most years.  It was not until recently that I realized this was Sven's way of presenting me with hard-boiled eggs that would go to waste unless I learned to devil them, which I did.

2. Deviled eggs: see above.

3. Easter baskets: We do get our children Easter baskets.  They aren't huge or lavish, but we do get them a little something.

4. New clothes: This is my favorite part of the secular side of Easter.  This year, for the first time, I bought myself a new Easter dress as well as new outfits for Dexy and Princess.  I love the idea of new clothes and white shoes as a part of the celebration of rebirth.

5. New jewelry: I'm still trying to get this one off the ground.

6. Church for all: Sven can usually be prevailed upon to come to church on any occasion in which I am speaking or singing, the children are speaking or singing, and major holidays.

7. Easter Story: We do spend a lot of time talking about the atonement and resurrection.  This year we made a set of a dozen eggs, each with a scripture and an object representative of parts of the events surrounding Easter.  It worked well; Princess woke Sven up this morning with a dramatic, "Daddy, the twelfth egg?  You know, the last one?  It was EMPTY!  Because Jesus wasn't there anymore!  He had RESURRECTED!"  Sven blearily acknowledged that the eggs had done their work, though he prefers that they work a little later in the day.  (I'm pretty sure Princess knows that the egg represents the tomb; I hope she doesn't think Jesus was supposed to be in the egg.)

I hope everyone has a happy Easter and a great spring.

Recap: Pretty In Pink (Or: Why We Shouldn't Watch Movies We Remember Loving Twenty-Five Years Ago)

Molly Ringwald: Get up, unemployed but lovable father, I'm clearly the responsible adult in this household as evidenced by the fact that you are unshaven and I dress like an 80-year-old!

Dad: I love your outfit!  You made it, so it was free!  Because the fabric and materials grew on the roof!

Molly Ringwald: I want you to get a job, because it's important to me, the most important person in the universe.

Dad: Have I told you how beautiful you are?

Molly Ringwald: Ew.

(At school)

Ducky: I'm awesome, and everyone knows you should be with me.

Molly Ringwald: I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you through this horrendous hat.

Mean Girls:  Ew.  Your clothes are gross.  We're 37.

Nice Teacher: Mean girls are awful.

Molly Ringwald: No, they're okay.

Mean Girls: No, we suck.  We hate you.

James Spader: I'm clearly in my 20's and smoke, but I'm a high school senior who finds you devastatingly attractive in your granny glasses and...  No, even I can't get past that hat.

Molly Ringwald: Bleh.

James Spader: You're a beast.  (I'm summarizing the censored version that runs on TV.)

(At work)

Record Store Lady: I'm cool!

Blaine: Here I am!  You like me.  I know you like me, because I can hear the soundtrack.

Molly Ringwald: I love you.

Ducky: Let's go hang out at the cool nightclub that only admits underage kids if they're poor.

Molly Ringwald: Okay, but only if we can drive past big fancy houses and dream afterward.

Ducky: Okay, but I get to complain about your music.

Molly Ringwald: Deal.

(The next day, in the library)

Molly Ringwald: Wow, the computer is talking to me in a way that is utterly implausible in 1986 but will be laughably outdated in ten years!

Blaine: It's me.  I have teeth.  You can see them when I smile.

Molly Ringwald: Swoon.

(Commercials for Hershey's chocolate and psoriasis.  I think they were two different commercials.)

Dad: I got a job.

Molly Ringwald: Oh, good!  I'm so happy!  That makes me so happy!

Dad: I lied.

Molly Ringwald: What?

Dad: Nothing.  Go to school.

(At school)

Blaine: I really like you.

Molly Ringwald: But you're rich and I'm poor.  There have literally never in the history of the world been lovers as star-crossed yet as ill-fated and incompatible as we.  We apparently attend a school that is segregated on strictly economic lines.  We face clearly insurmountable odds and will struggle our entire lives to overcome the hatred of those who urge us to stick to our own kind.

Blaine: You want to go to a party?

Molly Ringwald: Sure. (giggle)

James Spader: You asked out that horrid wretch who has literally no redeeming qualities?

Blaine: You really think that?

James Spader: Oh yeah.

Blaine: Hmmm...

(At Home)

Ducky: I love you so much, even though I would be your gay best friend if this movie had come out a few years later.

Molly Ringwald: I love you too, but only in a friend way, and I show my love by constantly criticizing you.

Ducky: I'm gay.

Molly Ringwald: What?

Ducky: Nothing.

(Gym class)

Friend: I smoke.

Molly Ringwald: I'm a good girl.

Gym Teacher: I hate poor people!  Get out!

(Principal's office)

Principal: I'm weak but nice.

Molly Ringwald: I'm poor.

Principal: Let's call the whole thing off.

(At work)

Boss: I'm incompetent!  It's a good thing I have you working for me, you're the only person in the universe with any intelligence whatsoever.

Molly Ringwald: You're right.

Ducky: (Lipsyncs)

Molly Ringwald: (unimpressed)

Ducky: BLAINE????

Blaine: Hi.

Ducky: (sob)

(In a stable?)

Molly Ringwald: Sigh, I love you so much.

Blaine: Do you want to go to prom?

Molly Ringwald: IT IS ONLY THE VERY THING THAT I TOTALLY LIVE FOR!!

Blaine: Um...  Maybe I already have a date.

(At home)

Dad: I got you this sort of okay dress.  Maybe you can make it into something so tremendously ugly, people will go blind from looking at it.

Molly Ringwald: Thanks, Daddy!  How's the job?

Dad: Fake.

Molly Ringwald: Great!

(At her boss' apartment?)

Boss: Look at me, I grew up in the '60's!

Molly Ringwald: I'm going to prom and I want your dress.

Boss: I'm wearing my prom dress and my hair is in a beehive, and I'm still cool.

Molly Ringwald: Dress now, please.

Boss: All right.  Just promise me that you will use it to make a dress so inexplicably tacky and ill-fitting that people will wonder how mankind survived the first screening of this movie.

Molly Ringwald: Deal.

(At school)

Blaine: I can't go to prom with you.

Molly Ringwald: JUST SAY IT!  YOU'RE RICH AND I'M POOR SO YOU'RE ASHAMED TO BE SEEN WITH ME!  AND ALSO I'M THIS CRAZY SCREAMING SHREW WHO IS TOTALLY EMBARRASSING YOU IN FRONT OF EVERYBODY BUT THAT DOESN'T MATTER BECAUSE YOU'RE SUCH A BIG JERK!

Blaine: Something suddenly came up.

Marcia: Ow, my nose!

Blaine: Get out of here.

Ducky: Hey, James Spader!  We will fight now!

James Spader: (smarms)

Ducky: (sobs and runs down the hall of a school that apparently doesn't consider fighting or smoking a serious discipline problem, but talking in gym class will get you sent to the principal's office)

(Before the prom)

THAT IS THE UGLIEST, MOST HIDEOUS DRESS I HAVE EVER SEEN.

Molly Ringwald: Who said that?

OH, NO, MY OPINIONS ON THAT DRESS ARE SO STRONG THEY HAVE BOTH TRAVELED THROUGH TIME AND BROKEN THROUGH THE FOURTH WALL TO ALERT THE STAR OF THIS MOVIE AS TO HOW TERRIBLE THAT DRESS IS.

Molly Ringwald: I love you, Daddy.

WHATEVER.

(At the prom)

Blaine: I own a white dinner jacket.

Ducky: My shoes are dirty.

Molly Ringwald: Blaine, I choose you!

NO!  YOU CHOOSE DUCKY!  BECAUSE IN 1986 YOU REALLY COULD DATE YOUR GAY BEST FRIEND!

Molly Ringwald: Seriously, did anyone else hear that?

Fin.

The Special-est of K's

(Note: I have not been financially compensated by anyone in any way at any time for writing this blog.  If anyone wants to change that, I'm open.)

I have always been skeptical of Special K.  Model-thin women lamenting that they can't lose the five pounds they gained over the winter and then claiming success based on a bowl of breakfast cereal has never resonated with me.

The "Special K Diet," in which one eats a bowl of cereal for breakfast and lunch, then has a "sensible dinner," likewise resulted in eye- rolls.  This is not Special K's fault; I had a friend who decided to combine the Special K diet with Atkins, which led to spectacular failure.  Who would have thought a low-fat, high-carbohydrate diet would be inconsistent with a no-carb, high-fat diet?  Everyone else in the world, that's who.

When Special K began branching into diet foods, my eyes rolled again.  Bars, drinks, shakes...  Really?  Who won't put out those things these days?  I can't wait for the Froot Loop diet.

But now I am eating my words (which, thankfully, are zero-calorie).  I have met my Special K match.  And by "match" I mean "the thing I want by my side for the rest of my life."

Special K Cracker Chips.

(That picture is, I believe, of the British version, because in Britain chips are "crisps" and fries are "chips" and language is "confusing.")

I miss chips.  The crunch, the salt, the crunch, the salt...  There's not much to chips, when you get down to it, but I love 'em.  Potato chips are right out for me now.  Baked chips taste like giant flakes of Special K.  Pretzels are okay, but sometimes you really want a chip, you know?

Special K Cracker Chips (I like the sour cream & onion flavor) are 110 calories for 27 CHIPS.  Let me repeat that.  110 calories for 27 CHIPS.  Yes, there are 22 grams of carbs in a serving, but 3 grams of dietary fiber and only 1 gram of sugar.  2 grams of protein.  2.5 grams of fat, only .5 grams of which is saturated.  No cholesterol.  Very little in vitamins, but that's okay.  I'll eat them gladly when I need my chip fix, and feel no shame.

Well, very little.

The Truth about Spanx

For those who are not up on what the Kardashian sisters are currently doing or what Joan Rivers thinks about Amy Adams' Golden Globes dress, Spanx is a brand of shapewear.

Shapewear, for those who are not conversant in the language of women's fashion, is underwear that pulls in and shapes the body.  What we used to call a "girdle."  By "we" I mean "other people."  I have never worn a girdle.

I live in shapewear.  I do not set foot outside the house unless I am bound from shoulder to knee in a snug chrysalis of lycra.  Losing all of this weight has been a fantastic experience in many ways, but there are drawbacks.  Shapewear allows me to look reasonably okay in clothes and smooths out all of the little lumps and bumps that would occur otherwise.

My first shapewear was the Lane Bryant brand.  Size 26/28, to be precise.  Then I went to 22/24.  Then I skipped right over 18/20 and got into the 14/16's.  While they no longer fit me, I still keep the bigger ones around.  They don't do much, but they're better than nothing at all.

Now I have to find shapewear for non-overweight ladies, which is where Spanx comes in.  Spanx is the preferred brand of shapewear in Hollywood.  Queen Latifah wears Spanx, as does Kelly Osborne and the aforementioned Kardashians.

Hollywood had to get something right eventually.  Spanx are amazing.  They are light and breathable but hold EVERYTHING in.  And they fit the size the chart says they're going to fit.  I honestly forgot I had it on one day.  Really.

Spanx are expensive.  I go for the two-piece, the cami and high-waisted bike short-type thing, and the combination is more than $110.  Additionally, it more or less has to be ordered online, which is problematic when it comes to fit.  That being said, it is totally worth it.

Red carpet, here I come.

Remember that Star Wars disco song? I'm pretty sure this is what they had in mind...

Stock Phrases

When one is introverted and shy (as I am) it is often helpful to have a supply of "stock phrases" to use in certain potentially awkward conversations.  I don't have a terribly good sense of boundaries, so without the stock phrase in hand, I might just blurt out too much information, which would be uncomfortable for all of us (though, I have to say, if you don't want to know, don't ask).

Certain of these stock phrases are designed to shut down a line of questioning:

"How kind of you to take an interest."

"What an interesting observation."

"I'll certainly think about that."

"Well, bless your heart."

That being said, there are still questions that shock me into direct answers.  When people see me now, I typically get this question:

"Have you lost weight?"

Though I am tempted to respond, "Duh!" I do not.  Partly because I'm saving my "Duh's" for those rare occasions in which I can follow them with "Winning!" because I think people really want to hear more jokes about Charlie Sheen right now.  (But seriously, you guys, I'm starting to think there might be something going on with him.)  So, the conversation goes like this:

Person: "Have you lost weight?"

Deb: "Um... yes, I have."

Person:  "I knew it, you look great!  How much have you lost?"

Deb: "Oh, I've lost a lot, thank you."

Person:  "No, really, how much?"

Deb: "About a hundred pounds."  (I've been saying this for a while, since around the time I hit the 80 pound mark.  It's just easier.)

Person: "Wow.  Wow.  That's amazing.  What are you doing?"

Here's where it gets tricky.  Some people ask directly, "Did you have surgery?" and then want to know what kind, when, if I've experienced complications, etc.  If they don't ask, I'm reluctant to bring it up, because then they want to know all of those things, or they start talking about how "easy" it must be to lose weight after surgery.

But all of that I can handle.

Here's what I can't handle:

Person: "So, I bet things are pretty hot in the bedroom again, huh?"

Deb: (implodes)

I actually don't mind a question like that from someone to whom I feel close; a friend at church asked me something like that (though not in those exact words) and it was fine, though a bit surreal to talk about it in the church library.  But people I don't know very well ask me, too.  In professional settings.  Really.  I just can't come up with a stock phrase for this one.

I will take suggestions.

Okay, here it is.

I finally had Princess take some pictures of me when I got home from work.  Bear in mind I still have at least 20 pounds to lose (more like 30-40, really) and I just got home from a 12-hour day.

To remind you, here is before:

Here is now:

Yup.  That's me.

Before

It is all Sven's fault.  I spent all weekend trying to get him to take a picture of me for my blog, but he hasn't done it yet.  So I will take my camera to work today and try to get a picture to post for all of you.  Today the "before" picture will have to suffice:

This is me last year a few pounds below my top weight (which I won't tell you exactly, but it was awfully close to the dreaded 300 mark).  I'm pretty sure that wasn't my normal facial expression.  I look at this picture and mostly remember how tired I was all the time.  And I wonder where my neck is.

"Now" picture coming soon.