Aside From Wanting to Give Marie Antionette a Swift Kick In the Shin, I'm Getting Hotter By the Day

The Palinode and I have decided to go off bread. Or, at least, I think we decided to go off bread, but I've caught him stuffing a New York Fries hot dog wrapped in a white bread bun into his face at movie theatres twice in the last week, so I guess that I decided to quit eating bread, and he decided to quit eating bread when it isn't wrapped around reconstituted cow mulch that's been shovelled off the abbatoir floor.

That reconstituted cow mulch is oh so tasty, but I managed to stave off the temptation by taking the large-theatre-popcorn-with-extra-butter route. Because I'm thinking about my health.

Aside from the evils of theatre food, though, we have been taking care to stay away from the major wheat gluten foods, because our middles were doing this slow, middle-aged expansion thing that does not bring all the boys to the yard, and I have a strong streak of celiac disease running through my family. It only seemed to make sense to head future health problems off at the pass while also getting hotter as I edge closer to forty. Everybody wins!

What I didn't take into account is the incredible addiction I have to bread, bread-wrapped foods, muffins, bagels, cake, and every other fabulous thing baked with wheat flour. CAKE, people. I do not make my own cakes. Where, oh where, can I find delectable yet gluten-free cakes?!

I didn't even really eat that much cake before this whole gluten-light diet started, but damn do I want it now that I can't have it.

Remember that Sparklecorn unicorn cake?

Sparklecorn unicorn cake

Good times.

Anyway, so we're trying the bread-free, if not completely gluten-free, way of living, and so far so good. I can tell that I've lost a few pounds in just the first week-and-a-half, and my gut looks less jiggly and more firm. I'm not heading for a six-pack any time soon, but getting rid of the frowny face that the fold mark above my protruding stomach makes in conjunction with my nipples when I sit down would be good, and I'm already on my way.


I apologize for making you think about my nipples, but it was necessary to illustrate a very important point. My torso looks like a sad fat kid whose mother drank during pregnancy.

And completely aside from that awesome visual I just left you with, SCHMUTZIE.COM IS SEVEN YEARS OLD TODAY. That's hella ancient.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand... scene.

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Grief's Children

Grief's Children