Thursday, August 9, 2012

Fatty Says No

She's going to eat me if I'm not careful. 

This doesn't happen all that often - but the last two days my daughter has literally begged me to keep feeding her. From the moment she'd done with breakfast she will clean up and then instantly ask, "Daddy - can you get me something to eat." And today, just like yesterday she finished her lunch and then immediately half-whined, "Daddy when are you going to get me something to eat?" Her complete amnesia for eating is oddly selective though as she's more than well aware of each thing she's already eaten - and is adamant that she must have something different to eat. I've explained in multiple ways that it's a) impossible that she can still be hungry, and that b) this is exactly why she has sat down at dinner each night since Sunday and then meekly poked at it before saying she's full. The infuriating thing about that is that at 4.30 she's still giving the if-I-don't-eat-I'll-literally-whither-away trembles. For 50 minutes I'll fend her off - pointing out that dinner will be ready at 5.30pm. All the while well aware that she won't eat it. I tried to get her involved in it last night. All by herself she dragged up baked potato with two different toppings. That is oddly specific so I assumed she had some intent on eating it. Instead she did her best effort at recreating a Jackson Pollock with the bean juice and sour cream. I've tried my best to resist her convincingly sincere cries of desperate malnutrition but she really does think I'm being cruel by pointing out that she's just eaten an entire lunch, then a slice of bread with Nutella, then a bowl of nuts and craisins and then yoghurt. And that has been delineated from the stuff that I didn't designate as the lunch portion of the day. She had two different breakfasts and a snack before all that as well.

It would be okay but she clearly didn't eat anything from 3.45pm yesterday until breakfast. Prior to which she called me into the bathroom to marvel at the gargantuan monkey-fudge she'd curled out. She's clearly her mother's child in every aspect of that - especially the pride part. Honestly - if you haven't eaten anything how can there be so much poo? A friend knowingly referred me to the poo fairy. Which I was excited to tell my daughter about. Possibly even engage in an exciting caper involving Captain Cheesestick and Dr. Bonk in some sort of Indiana Jones-style caper involving a daring rescue and searching for treasure. But frankly I felt somewhat uncomfortable with the idea that my daughter would want to be the Poo Fairy in this story. Lord only knows what she'd end up doing. Add I'm terrified that she'll lead me into her room one evening - all smiles - pointing at her pillow. Underneath which she's chundered a disturbing gift to exchange with The Poo Fairy for cash.

Back to the constant eating though - my son is going the bulimic route so that he can enjoy the ride. Practically everything he's eaten bar today's breakfast (oatmeal) and a the chocolate bread has been masticated and then spat out. Normally he just does that with carrots. He gets giddy with excitement when he sees carrots on his plate because he thinks they taste amazing. He will chew them up and tell you with oohs and aahs about how delicious they are. But then he always gobs it out onto his plate and then picks up the next one. But then last night he did that with everything for dinner too. My wife at least ate her baked potato with coronation chicken - so it wasn't just a steaming pile of failure that I was unaware of. But right now he's gobbing out chewed-up banana that he begged me to give him.

I hope this isn't my fault. They've both witnessed me lose so much bloody weight that their mother is now trying out the anorexia jokes on me. This is because I now weight the same as her. She's the same height as me and finds the notion we are the same weight ludicrous seeing as she's quite clearly seen as long and thin. So that's from near 190 down to a dizzying 135 pounds when I got up this morning. That's a lot of weight. I've already traveled through the awkward phase of people asking if I'm dying. Which was partly down to a consecutive series of annoying illnesses that occurred all one after the other and me also still trying to wear clothes that were too big - thereby making the image of myself look strange. Now my own wife is asking if I'm okay because my face has started to look a bit too thin in her opinion. But then there's context to that which I'm nervous about to be honest - but we shall see how that fares for what is now seemingly an annual period of problems. Anyhoo at the very least I need a haircut. I don't like my hair looking like it hasn't just been cut a few weeks ago. I used to have long hair. Actually I used to have green, blue, white, purple and pillar-box red hair. Sometimes all at once. But that was some time ago. The days when I didn't have a normal man's haircut are nearly fifteen years in the past now. Instead I'm more content to just have the wife cut it off and get by on charm and getting people to focus on my ridiculously attractive kids instead. But periodically I'll let my hair grow out a bit. But as it doesn't actually have a style I end up with a strange unicorn-horn lump at the front that appears to be reaching toward the sun like it's a life-form of it's own - desperate to photosynthesize. I sometimes think I'm starting to look all Chris Isaak/James Dean and can pull it off. Then I'll catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and realize I look like a cross between Shakin' Stevens and Paul Shane from Hi De Hi. Except in a pair of tatty cargo shorts and whatever t-shirt my kids have picked out for me to wear. Which is why I hate Summer. You can't wear anything or you'll melt. So instead amost men end up dressed as a 12 year old boy. Which is decidedly not a good thing at all.

Lastly we tried to go out and do something interesting yesterday and this morning. Three playgrounds yesterday - all of which were riddled with wasps. The one this morning failed because my son was unexpectedly asleep when I drove up to it so I kept going. I recall the one last year being the same - but now my daughter's school one is off limits for the time being until the cold evenings come and murder all of the pointless bastards. At her school though we did get to see a few of the replacements to some old slides, ramps and whatnot. Like this panel for example.


That, "stay in school" hasn't been scratched on there by the way. When you rub your hand over it it's raised. Meaning that it's supposed to be there. I'm not sure what I think about intentional graffiti like that. My slippery-slope alarm is going off (conveniently only in the one direction) for some reason.

Right - time to explain why we aren't eating Popsicles anymore.

1 comment:

  1. Cargo shorts look terrible on everyone. Same thing with polo shirts, you put one on and it looks like y'gained 20 pounds. Seriously, I farking loathe polo shirts with every fiber (fibre? gaah I can't tell I am so annoyed)

    ps I claim my free Poo Fairy as promised.

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