Gluttonous Living

   I LOVE FOOD!!! I really do. I like all kinds of food. I pride myself on the fact that I am not a terribly picky eater. I will try nearly everything at least once. I even had duck for the first time today. I like all kinds of food. And if it is something I really like, I sometimes make myself sick trying to eat as much of it as I can.
   My most favorite kind of food is Mexican. I eat Mexican food more than once a week. I like burritos, enchiladas, tacos, quesadilla’s and I can pronounce most of what is on the menu. I like the flavors, I like the meat, I like the cheese and I like the sauces. I like fast food Mexican, restaurant Mexican, Authentic Mexican and Tex-Mex. It is all delicious to me. At night when I am hungry, I crave Mexican food. There is a place in my little part of the world that is open 24 hours and I have been there more than once at 2 am ordering pork burritos. Basically, Mexican does it for me.
   Seriously, I just finished eating dinner, and I am already thinking about food again. Mexican...
   What makes all of this gluttony worse is that I am a stay at home mom. After I drop the kids off to school, I think about how wonderful a breakfast sandwich would be. I am already in the car, and the drive up people don’t care if I have already done my hair, changed out of my pajamas or even checked to see if yesterday’s mascara is in a lovely ring under my eyes. So it is off to McDonalds for an egg mcmuffin. Already a healthy way to start the day.
   Since my kids are both in school I have plenty of time to think about food, and eat it all by myself. I love my children but they can really ruin mealtime. I enjoy nothing more than sitting down in front of the television or computer and eating. I like to go and get fast food from somewhere, or eat the leftovers from the fridge, or maybe just snack, but when I am alone, I feel no shame in eating as much as I want. No one is there to judge me, or look at me, or even know that I consumed an entire bag of Doritos all by myself.    However, as much as I love eating alone, I love to go out with friends as well. I am a social person, and I love to call someone up and say “Let’s have lunch together.” We go out, eat, talk and just sit and enjoy not having children clamoring at us. This is probably better for me, as I tend to eat less when there are other women around. Self preservation thing.
   Ok so now you are wondering, how does her gluttony really stay in the closet? I work out of town all the time. Don’t be confused with the stay at home mom thing I mentioned earlier. I work for a small company and very VERY part time. Less than 40 hours in an entire month. I travel to far off places and I generally go on my own. I stay in hotels and I get to sit and watch cable (a luxury we do not have at home) and eat whatever takeout I want. Who is going to know that I ordered Olive Garden, or enough Chinese food for three people and eat it all myself? Just like at home, I can get rid of the evidence, and no one will be the wiser. Plus, when I go it alone and take it home, the people at the restaurant probably think I am ordering for several people. I hope so anyway.  
   So here I am, a woman who is seemingly consumed by the thought of food. Luckily, as a gluttonous person, I have worked hard to keep a fairly trim figure. I think about food, but lately I have managed to never put into practice what I really want to do. Hope I can hold onto that, or I may have to be burned down with the house, poor Gilbert Grape.

Pride-My Friend, My Enemy

   So I am a pretty prideful person. Pride is supposed to really be the root of all evil. I can see that. Pride is generally what causes most wars. Pride has brought down many a man or woman, and I am no exception to this.
   I hate to have my pride injured. I am always right, at least I think so. It kills me when it turns out that I was possibly mistaken. It just happens so rarely, that when it does I am shocked beyond belief.
   I don't like to be told I am doing something wrong. As a mother, I think this is compounded even more. I have two young children, and for years, everything I did was amazing. I couldn't go wrong, except for maybe a bad dinner or two. However, they are getting older, and I am not so perfect any longer. I think my daughter is even starting to figure out that I am terrible at math. And she is only 7!!!
   Recently, I went to parent teacher conferences with my children. It was brought to my attention that I am not doing the homework procedure properly. I need to check the homework and sign each day that it is complete. Also, I need to be writing down exactly how many minutes are read each night. All of the homework is due on Friday with all of my initials, and my signature attached. I am not sure why it is that I have to do all of these signings? I work hard every day, and I get them to do the homework. If they are turning it in, and it is complete, why do I have to prove that I watched them do it? So irritating.
   Instead, I informed the teacher that all of their reading is completed, I also advised her that I do not need to babysit them at homework time, as I have much to do on my own. She didn't look too happy. I just think that this kind of protocol is ridiculous.
  So, even though I was being told I was doing it wrong, I left satisfied knowing that I will show her. And my pride was still intact.
  

What is a closet sinner?

   So here it goes. My first blog post. I have always wanted to do this, but personally I fear ridicule. Here I am, about to pour out my soul to thousands (I hope that many someday) of people out there, including family and friends I am sure. I will remain as private as possible, my name will be changed to protect the not so innocent.
   I am a firm believer in Hell and all it entails. Weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth is a phrase I have heard many times to describe this warmer climate known as the home of Satan. My friends and family on more than one occasion have heard me declare I will be riding the bus to Hell, if not driving it. No worries though, it is a big bus, plenty of seats, even handicap accessible, and I am more than happy to accommodate any who wish to come out and announce proudly, that they are, as well as myself, a closet sinner.
   So what exactly makes one a closet sinner? I would say it is the little things in life that slowly ebb away at our goodness until we realize we are being consumed by an inescapable fire. Do you remember the story of the frog? Throw him into the pot of boiling water and he will surely jump out. Put him in the water and then set it to boil and he will stay, until of course he has become a nice frog leg appetizer. MMMMM!!!
   So my closet sins? I like to gossip. I curse, and I do have strong feeling of dislike (these tend to be towards my ex-husband and an old friend who betrayed me). I also like the drink. Not that I drink often or hardly at all these days, but I still think about it. On a rough day, I really want a cold beer. I love food, I over sleep and I have a tendency towards laziness. I have at one time or another committed nearly all of The Seven Deadly Sins and the Ten Commandments (except for murder, although I have wanted to kill my children from time to time).
   But to really be a closet sinner, you have to hide all of this from others. Most of my friends and family have no idea how bad I really am. I go to church on Sunday’s. I appear to be good in all aspects of my life, unless I believe no one is watching me. I go out of town a lot on business. That is when I do most of my sinning, but then I go home and all of that is shut up into the closet.
   Even though I appear to be fairly good in my day to day existence, I never claim sainthood. I don’t think of myself as better than anyone else. I am just better at hiding it than most.
   So here it is. I guess this is almost my way of going to confession. Maybe I will be lucky enough to have a priest read this, call me up and tell me how many Hail Mary’s I need to say, and then absolve me of my sins. But then again, I would have to write this under my real name and not a pseudonym wouldn’t I? After all, I want to remain in the closet.