The scary truth about Fiber One

7 Jan

So the not smoking thing sucks. And I mean sucks as in I suck at it. I started smoking again Friday night. I did however make it a whopping 13 hours without smoking. Maybe next week. I am still on my quest to no longer be a hog beast. While I can’t seem to drag my lazy ass to the gym, the Weight Watchers thing is going pretty well. I’m tracking all my food and behaving, which is nice for a change. I’m eating a Lean Cuisine for lunch. Lemon pepper fish. It’s remarkably good. It may just be the hunger talking, but it’s really not bad. It’s surprising what tastes good when you’ve realized that your fat jeans are too tight and you refuse to buy a bigger size.

I had a Fiber One bar for breakfast and was like, mmmmm, chocolately goodness. Now normally, I’d be all mmmmm, chocolately cardboard. Desperation is a funny thing that way. How sad is that I actually look forward to eating those gross bars? The last time I was on Weight Watchers I ate them all the time. Kat had gone into the pantry to get a snack in the snack basket and she pulls out a Fiber One bar. She was like, ooo, chocolate. Can I have it? I was like, yeah, but it’ll make you poop. She’s like, that’s ok. I have to poop anyway. I was like, well go ahead, but I warned you. So a couple of hours later she’s watching tv and gets this horrified look on her face and goes racing up the stairs. She came back down all relieved looking and goes, phew. Mom, those bars make me poop FAST. I was like, I know, I told you that. So Davey, goes, um…Mom? I had 2…what’s going to happen? I was like, oh my God?! You had 2?! Davey, that’s so, so bad! You’re going to poop your pants! His face totally fell and he got all teary-eyed. I was like, aww, I’m totally kidding. He’s like, THAT’S NOT ANYTHING TO JOKE ABOUT MOM!

He didn’t poop his pants of course, but he’s never had another Fiber One bar. He also is very leery about granola bars. It’s probably a bad thing that I scare my children into not eating healthy food by tormenting them with threats of pants-pooping. Heh. That’s quite possibly the strangest sentence I’ve ever written.

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