The Lost Plum…

I wrote a post I haven’t posted yet. The topic of this post was to debunk the age old claim that dating or being in a relationship makes you fat or makes you gain weight.

I have always lost weight while in relationships, not gained and after thinking on it and even asking others I’m still perplexed at where this idea comes from. Does being in a relationship really make you fat? And if so where is this happening? I’m looking at you Dr.Oz, tell me!

I haven’t posted the post, because well, I might disagree with my statements now, I may have to jump on the bandwagon and say that being in a relationship just MIGHT (might) make you gain weight.

It all depends on who you are dating…

In my unposted post I outline that yes you go out and dine more with a partner but I think you are more conscious of it. You share things like apps and deserts, and you wait to eat with no snacking as to not ruin your appetite, and after your big meal is done your ready for other after dinner activities. Your meals are more planned out. More timely. You and your partner plan to do lunch there for you don’t spend all afternoon eating a sleeve of puddings. You mix it up more, not ordering Chinese then eating the leftovers for 2days and then reordering Chinese. I don’t think a relationship is cool with splitting a muffin and a bag of left over movie popcorn for dinner, but when it’s 10pm and I’ve realized I haven’t eaten yet the muffin/popcorn combo works fine for me.

I’ve dated alot of guys who made comments about my weight, or my appearance. And yet at those times I was like half the size I am now. Maybe I’ve been more aware of it in the past cause the guys I was with made me so. Maybe them telling me I was fat or that I should watch my weight made me more conscious then the average. Made me in a sense not be the norm and actually lose weight while in a relationship.

Also I’ve dated a bunch of vegetarians, strike that I’ve dated way too many vegetarians! Now don’t get me wrong I love a big dinner salad, and get them all the time. And I don’t judge them for not eating chicken (for not eating bacon I do!)

Ok so maybe it’s not the vegetarian thing at all. Maybe it’s that I’ve dated alot of guys who overly care about their appearances and like their women to fit into a pretty little not over a size 8 box. In fact, I think that might be it. In fact, I’m sure of it.

Maybe all along not only have I been dating the wrong guys but my waistline has been too.

So here’s the thing: I love food! I eat. I try new things like I’m just experiencing them, cause alot of times I am. I grew up in a house where I don’t think salt even was/is present. Sugar kids cereal was the luxury, and there are no real restaurants around. When I went to undergrad University I slowly weaned myself back onto gluten and boy is gluten good! And tried things for the first time like chocolate milk!  I started traveling and experienced the pleasure of that. Cause the true test of being an adult is making the choice to only eat gelato for two days when in Rome.

And then I moved to NYC and the foodie in me was unleashed like a razor to Britney’s head. Add on top of that that American portions are bigger then my face, and I’ve falling in love with spice, butter, and meat. And although NY street meat has got nothing on Toronto’s it’s a hell of a city to fall in love with food in. Thus I started to gain alittle, or maybe a lot….

Maybe I just need to fall for the right guy too! Maybe my stomach has been on a hunt. A hunt not only for the perfect hotdog but well for the perfect “hotdog”. A hunt for a guy who introduces me to things called ”Combos” or “Popeye’s Chicken” and even “Pop Tarts”. A guy who makes me nachos for dinner and indulges in the idea that we each get a desert and share them.

A guy who likes me for me and even though I might be at the biggest I’ve ever been in my life by like 20 pounds, holds my hand while we walk for street side tacos at 2am, and tells me I’m beautiful as I have taco grease running down my chin….maybe falling in love with the boy who loves ‘All’ of me is something I can really sink my teeth into.

SIDEBAR: I hate hate hated the book Eat, Pray, Love. Gag me with a spoon!

I did something the other day. Something I haven’t done in like 4 years.

I started to clean out my address book on my phone.  I began the daunting task of deleting numbers unneeded, adding to those I have further information for, and all the good head scratching that comes from filing through ones address book of 724 contacts.

I have friends, work contacts, old work contacts, restaurants, stores, doctors, old friends, and of course boys.

We all have our own version of the chick-ionary or in my case I guess my dick-ionary.  And we live in an age where such books, such contacts are usually on our phones (and consequently our computers).

And in the digital age t has allowed us to gather more information, or a greater vocabulary to add to our dictionaries.

My girl friends always tell me I’m crazy for keeping number of like ever guy I have ever exchanged numbers with in my phone.  They never understand why I don’t delete them. My response is always that then I know who is contacting me.  The response is always the same “Well I don’t pick up unknown numbers” and the way it is always said is sorta a dig. I’m not sure what type of dig but the tone is always there.

Of course I don’t pick up unknown calls. Who really does?! The real problem is those unknown text messages.  Those really throw me for a loop. I am always to intrigued to answer back.  Thus knowing and having numbers for almost everyone I have encountered in life is important. Or at least I used to think it was…..maybe that has changed, but then again maybe it hasn’t.

SIDEBAR: I always add little notes to every contact I have to help better recognize or establish who they are. These include “works with so and so” “from Texas” “the boyfriend” “reflexology” “so and so’s bitchy girlfriend” “mommy-moo” “my best Pal” and so on….

Regardless I’ve started deleting numbers. These at the moment are mostly composed of random guys numbers, which I’ve decided I don’t need because I frankly don’t care. But for your reading enjoyment I leave you with 7 favorites of mine thus far.

Dan ( the onion ring guy from bar) yuiy8

Hj ehBehn (guys friend food likes 22 years old)

BJ hater dude (two shirt)

Shawn (not sean! old married guy in pj pants at bar) I am drunk

Aussseeettin ( guyi who knows heather)

Mikee (madeout with at 6^th wrad)

Salor Halloween man sexy (matt?)

SIDEBAR: I find this story a great follow-up to the last one.

My cousin has been visiting and we were talking about how people ask her for directions all over the city (something that happens to me often no matter where I travel) and I was saying it must be because we appear to be nice, sweet, approachable Canadians. But no one really knows we are Canadians. We just seem nice, sweet, approachable, and helpful (like most Canadians)

What makes someone approachable? And what doesn’t? I always share the ridiculous pickup lines that guys have used on me, but do I just seem like an easy approachable target that looks sweet enough to fall for their terrible lines or do they really find me attractive?

Do I really have nice, sweet, and approachable (Canadian) written all over my face, or is it just in my head……

One time I had gotten off the subway on my way to an event. I had about 6 bags in hand and it was a hot September night. I got off on one of those stops that are way under ground. You know the ones that take like three levels of escalators before you see the light of day.

As I could see the first set in my view I noticed it wasn’t running as people were clopped up the ’stairs’. Urg…I struggled with my bags up the long (and first) flight of escalator stairs. I started to sweat in my party dress. I was starting to get angry, but after this flight the escalators will work I thought to myself. But then…those weren’t working either. “F-this” I think, and I made my way to the elevator. Now subway elevators freak me out. If you have ever been in a NYC subway elevator you know what I’m talking about and if you haven’t just think on it for a bit.

I push the button and wait. As I’m waiting (the elevators are really slow, I want to mentioned that) this guy makes his way next to me to wait. He’s attractive at first glance, and on crutches as one leg is in a full-length cast. (I start thinking about a broken femur bone, which must hurt like a firey hell as I wait for the doors to open) He smiles, I smile back.

The elevator doors open and I go to walk in (crutches boy had gestured for me to go first) But I stop just past the door as I notice something. There is the corner of the elevator is a big pile of poo. Yes real human poo! “Hells no!” I think to my self, and probably said it out loud too as I go to leave the elevator. As much as I don’t want to climb two sets of escalator stairs with all these bags sweating up my party dress I sure ain’t getting in that slow ass elevator with someone’s feces!

“Wait!” The guy says.

“Pardon” I turn back.

“If I ride up alone when it opens people will think I did it.”

I stare sorta blindly at him.

“You serious?!” I say

“Please. It’s only one floor.” He gives me this look that only a sweet approachable Canadian girl would fall for.

I step in the elevator as close to that door as I can. The doors shut.

I turn back and look at the guy I followed into an already gross NYC subway elevator that just happens to have a pile of poo in the corner.

“If this elevator stops and doesn’t open I will break your other leg!”

He begins to laugh…and laugh hard.

I begin to laugh.

We get off the elevator at street level laughing like I’ve never laughed with a stranger before.

“Thank you so much! You’re really sweet.”

We parted.

This story always leaves me confused. Does being sweet mean you’ll ride with poo for a complete stranger? It may, but it sure smells wrong to me!

While on holiday I’ve been doing a lot of nothing. Well that’s not true. I’ve been working, seeing friends (one of my bestest friends got married to one wonderful lady this past weekend), and a lot of topless sunbathing in the pool.

I spent my first week of holiday in my hometown.  Ah, Northern Ontario Canada in the summer, it really is one of the greatest places you can be this time of year.

SIDEBAR: I’ll challenge anyone to a duel that says otherwise, and my sword skills are amazingly good!

Wherever you happen to hail from it always holds a special place in your heart, even if you would cut off an appendage before moving back there. Your hometown can teach you many things. Some good and some ugly, but all in all there is always a lesson to be learned.

8 Things I’ve Learned from growing up in North Western Ontario Canada!

1~ Fish do and will bite you in the open water!! And I can most likely tell you what type of animal that squished up unrecognizable pile of blood and fur on the road used to be

2~ Drinking and operating any type of moving vehicle is not a good idea. If I even tried to count deaths I’ve known of as a result of drinking and driving/seadooing/ boating/snowmachining, and so on it would take years!

3~ I’m a great shot. Don’t mess with me.

4~ I have at least three major outdoor survival skills, and I know all the best ways to keep warm.

5~ Curling is hard. If you want to joke that it’s the easiest Olympic sport, I suggest you take a look at bobsledding, even the Jamaicans can do that! Curling is hard, and I think the only section I always failed in PE.

6~ I always dress appropriately and come prepaid for impending weather. I also know what “looks like” followed by any type of weather description is, and am pretty much always right!

7~ I can walk on ice with little effort, infact I can even run on it.

8 ~ It is possible to be friends with past lovers and old flames. In a small town people jump romantic partners all the time, but your social circles never really change. You learn to get along with the ex that is now dating your best friends little sister who used to date your old brothers best friend who you once dated as well who cheated on you with the girl who is now dating your brother. And all in all you learn to be civil and kind to others, and respect peoples romantic choices (I mean you might judge but still)

So I need to talk about something that has been driving me crazy for months. Something I’ve been seeing time and time again when I watch mindless TV and it just makes me want to cock punch someone while screaming “Allez Cuisine!”

I’ve talked about commercials before. I’m bothered by a commercial that deal with “female issues”, I just am. I’ve talked before on how I don’t like the women in most of them, and then I talked about how some point out how stupid the female population is. But this one takes the cake on pointing out how stupid/dumb/ridiculous the female population can be.

Bayer has come out with a new ad champagne that encourages women to learn more about their birth control. This comes off the back of them being sued millions of dollars for apparently not adequately informing women about the health risks.

Ok first off, if you take any medications you should know what it is, how it works, how it affects your body and interacts with other drugs you take. Your health should always be number one. You need to understand how stuff works. That’s “Living 101.”

Anyways, so although I agree that it’s good of Bayer to let you know that you should take control of your health I have an issue with their commercials. A huge issue.

If you haven’t seen the commercial in question let me break it down for you. There are these women who are blind folded feeling a rhinoceros.  They touch the rhino all over and are trying to figure out what they are touching.

These women give the absolute dumbest answers that one could ever say while feeling up a living breathing moving rhino!  Answers given include: a wall, a rope, a pipe, and my all time favorite is the stupid chick who get’s ear slapped in the hand by a rhino and guesses… A BRUSH!

WTF?!  Where are all these stupid women coming from!  At least I’m glad someone is trying to make sure they all know how to use birth control correctly, cause God forbid these dumb ass chicks get pregnant and start procreating…..that is if they can read the pregnancy test.

Oh here’s the link to the commercial so you can watch for yourself.

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Oh and if you like, dislike, agree, disagree, or want to cock punch me over this opinion (or me in general) you should check LostPlum (that’s me) out tonight from 10-11pm EST. on Shivio.com because I’m going to be a guest on Abiola on LSD: Love, Sex, Dating. The show is hosted by the ever amazing, always funny, constantly sexy Abiola Abrams!  It’s going to be hot hot hot.  You can watch, listen, chat, and even beam in….with me!