Talking dirty to carbs...

Dear Manna from heaven,

Warm, delicious, flaky, doughy goodness that you are...

I miss you baby. My darling bread, it's been far too long. I've tried to stop thinking about you....really I have. But I can't get you out of my mind! Rye, Wheat, Sourdough, Ciabatta, Flat bread....I'm talking dirty now!! What I wouldn't give for a french baguette and a tub of butter. I'd slather you up like its nobody's business. Sweet mother of Abraham Lincoln I would mess. you. up....that's the truth.

{Mmmmm....come to mama...}

And while we're at it, let's heat things up and bring your friend Cheese along. It's been a while since dairy and I have been together, but I've been known to throw back a couple of grilled cheese in my day....now we're really talking. Don't be scared. I'll take reeeeeal good care of you. Even the crust...I love it all. Nothing says 'I love you' like melted cheese on a slice of heavenly carb goodness...and baby, I Loooooove you. With a capital L.

{Nom nom nom...}

Don't look at me like that....I've tried to walk away from you! But you're there every time I turn around....tempting me. Calling me from the pantry. Taunting me with that delicious aroma!! I've tried to forget about you, distracting myself with steamy vegetable affairs and sweet fruit lovin'. It's just not the same...I just want you to know how much I miss you. Those rice and potatoes mean nothing to me! Just remember that. I'll never find another love like you....

With all my love...

My stomach

*bread pic borrowed from living in peru & grilled cheese from sodahead

The Offender...

I can't handle it anymore! Something needs to be done. The Offender must be stopped!! And since I can't walk around with a belt made of air fresheners, I suppose that means I'll have to stop cheating on my diet. Stupid IBS. Stupid allergy shmallergies. Stupid horrid, awful, tear-inducing gas. Oh yeah...its that bad.

And I don't mind having gas. No big deal, everyone farts, right? Right. But not everyone makes puppies yelp and rainbows dissolve with the intensity of the aroma. That's just me apparently. And normally its not this bad, I swear. Jordan, don't you dare comment. I will cut you. But it's normally not this offensive. I can crop dust through the store and nobody is the wiser. I do the one cheek sneak at the restaurant and it goes undetected. It's not my fault people. IBS here. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do!

But lately I've been forced to peruse the undesirable sections of Target, like the hangers and ironing boards, just so I can pass a little gas because my stomach is distended from the insane amount of gas. Then I do a little shake, and walk it off...hoping the stench doesn't follow. BUT on the off chance someone happens to encounter me during one of these moments and gets smacked in the face by montezuma's revenge I've got it all figured out. I'll slyly look at Boogie, peek into his diaper and loudly say "Oh Boogie! Did you go poopy??". Genius......or...

OR I could just stop cheating on my lame diet....You know what a diet is don't you? It's DIE with a t at the end of it... sigh....goodbye chocolate...mama loves you, but I've got to be good now. I'm gonna go cry now and lick the pages of my Bon Appetit magazine...while I fart.