One Cheeseball Removed From Death

I'm dieting.  Or should I say I'm, "making a major lifestyle change."  No, I shouldn't because then I'd sound like a fuck face, but it is essentially true.  I went to the doctor for allergy meds and came back with high cholesterol.  Higher than a hippie at Burning Man.  Higher than a frat boy at a Dave Matthews concert. It had to be calculated by a team consisting of NASA and a robot Val Kilmer circa Real Genius.  It was pretty high.

Let me put it this way:  If you were to look at a cross section of one of my veins right now, it'd look like this

Pic lifted from www.tacobell.com

Yup.  My vascular system is a Beefy 5 Layer Burrito.  I have a hidden layer of nacho cheese oozing through my arteries.

No offense to Taco bell.  It's been the gorging of myself on many of their fine products throughout the years that has helped me to reach this yellow, waxy, greasy, pinnacle.  I was 16 years old when that love affair started.  I spent the summer with a daily allotment of 5 bucks.   That 5 bucks had to buy me train fare to and from and lunch.  I was always full after lunch.  I fell head over heels in love.  Thanks Taco Bell.  You murderous bitch.  I hate you now.  Call me?

Speaking of murderous bitches, I also have a genetic proclivity to high cholesterol.  My maternal grandfather died of heart disease and diabetes and when they did the autopsy, they found a wheel of cheese where his heart should've been.  Smoked Gouda.  The ol' man had taste.  And some truly shitty genes.  Nice one, maternal family.

I've had to change my diet fairly drastically.  The worst part is, I know how to eat healthy.  My wife had gestational diabetes and I did the diet with her and I lost weight and felt really good.   It's just that ever since the Pumpkin man was born, I've pretty much been like, "What's that?  A fried cheese pig?  Dibs!"

And I don't even like pork.   It's the cheese.  Its possible I'd eat a dick if the words "fried cheese" came first.  Not definite, but possible.

Also, I have to exercise.  1/2 hour of an activity akin to jogging at least thrice (fuck face alert!) a week.

I think I'll probably end up getting a bicycle and riding it off a cliff.  I'm kidding of course.  I can't ride a bike.

And I have to take anti-cholesterol pills.  I'm 62 at 37.

So that's where that's all at.

As far as Mother's Day goes well . . . The Peanut is still suffering the lingering effects of the stomach flu and her brother decided to join the party.  Because he's thoughtful, he has thus (F.F.A. #2!) far restricted all explosive protein ejections to the rear exit.

And the poor mommy herself starting feeling unwell half way through the day.  Sorry honey.  Even sick you are the ass-kicking-est mommy ever.

Alright, that's it happy Mom's day night/ Monday morning everybody.

In good health,

Homemaker Man