It Has Pockets


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But at what cost?

I recently discovered that there is a direct correlation between the size of my pants and the size of my pockets. This is not implying that no pants equal no pockets. Wait, I guess it is. But here I am referring to my jeans. Specifically, the bigger the pants the bigger the pockets.

Allow me to elaborate. I buy most of my jeans, which is all I wear to work, at Lane Bryant. If I need jeans in a hurry, I buy them at Walmart. Lane Bryant is a plus size retailer, my local Walmart location doesn’t carry a huge selection of plus sized clothing. Now most of the jeans I’ve purchased at Lane Bryant are too big. This is not due to my recent Spite Diet. They were always big. All of those too big jeans are so big that if I don’t do something to keep them up I have to pull them up repeatedly throughout my workday. So big, in fact, that I have multiple times threatened to “moon” those around me just by walking or, lort forbid, bend over. The jeans I’ve purchased at Walmart, which are a few years old at this point are all two small (and all different sizes despite the number on the tag).

The few pairs of pants that I do not have to pull up or sinch at the waist, have small pockets. These are the Walmart jeans.

So, the problem is this, the only time that my phone can be put in my pocket without it threatening to pants me in public is when the phone can barely fit in said pocket. I suppose the choice is either struggle with my pocket or my pants.

Yes, this is an absolute ridiculous reason to post. This post is also not about the difference between clothing sizes and retailers. But there is a point.

Women’s Clothing Generally Lacks Pockets.

It is a well-known fact that women’s clothing, at least the bulk of it, lacks proper pockets. The phrase “Thanks, it has pockets!” couldn’t have become a thing without that being a fact. We ladies get super excited when we see we have pockets, especially ones we didn’t expect.

There’s a couple of theories floating around as to why this is true. One is the predominance of men in fashion. Men know how to design clothes that look good on a woman but don’t think about how the functionality of those items of clothing for the people that will wear them. The fact that MEN are more prominent in the designing of women’s clothing, is bonkers. But my theory about that is in the past women were always considered to be not for the professional world. Women belong in the home having families and taking care of husbands. And women back and that day didn’t need pockets to keep things in, but men did.

Another theory is that the main concern when designing women’s clothing is fashion over function. Designers make the items to look good, plain and simple, pockets are not a priority. And done the wrong way on an item, pockets can change the look or silhouette of the item. Like cargo pants. Imagine all the stuff you can carry in cargo pants. And then imagine how lumpy you’d look with them packed full of, I don’t know, marshmallows.

But not only does women’s clothes generally lack pockets, when they do have pockets, they are usually small. “Yes please, I would like the pair of pants with the pocket that I can fit this folded one dollar bill into!”

It’s all about Equality.

Seriously though. Men get pockets in their pants. Have you seen a pair of men’s pants without them? And they have big pockets, too. Everyone deserves pockets.

I do enjoy carrying a purse. I put all kinds of nonsense in there, but I don’t like taking one to work, the place I go most frequently, because I don’t always need all the things I carry in it, and with the Spite Diet, I have to carry a lunch box now. So, I don’t want to carry two separate bags to work when I don’t need most of the stuff in one of them.

Give me pockets and make them big enough for my phone and my Airpods and some cash and some lip balm. I don’t want a pocket that I can barely get my enormous smartphone into without wondering if it’s going to fall out of said pocket and smack its screen on the tile floor of my workplace. I cannot afford a new phone. Oh, and not just back pockets, like on most jeggings (yes, I still wear them, no I don’t care about fashion, sheesh).

In Conclusion

Pockets are just one of those “hot topic” issues that really shouldn’t be. It sounds ridiculous to get bothered by pockets, really. But its a the little things that can make life easier for everyone. Having a place to put a thing you wanna carry, without having to carry a whole other thing.

This post does not have pockets. Sorry.

The “Spite Diet” Update


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It’s a thing.

As a reminder, The Spite Diet is me decided to lose weight in my own because my doctor thought I needed to take a drug to do so, even though she didn’t ask if I was even trying.

That’s not me judging people who use medication to lose weight, but me figuring I should give it a good college try before I start pumping my body with medication marketed for something else.

The actual diet is me being mindful of portion sizes and making healthier choices as opposed to my typical “eat whats delicious and convenient in unhealthy amounts and not realizing I feel terrible because it’s bad for me and not because it’s normal”.

What I Eat

Breakfast: A protein shake (equate high performance vanilla) and a protein bar (usually quest) or Oats Overnight oats.

Lunch: To work I take a wrap, veggie straws, and pickles. I drink water or a low calorie packet mixed in water.

Dinner: chicken and a Turkey burger patty and a veggie.

Snacks: low fat yogurt.

How It’s Going

Well, to be honest, my high stress life, has taken a toll on the journey. Yes, according to the scale I had lost 26 pounds since the beginning of this journey, I am an emotional eater, and all the things GOING ABSOLUTELY BONKERS WRONG in my life is not helping that.

I’ll not go into the gritty details, but I have turned to good to make it all better. While better it has not gotten, I know that food will not solve my problems. No matter how good it tastes.

I haven’t weighed myself in over a week, and didn’t even record it then. Should I go do it now? Okay not as bad as I thought. 301. Which takes my weight lost down a pound, but we’re letting that slide.

I have also slacked on tracking my food and water intake. I know that’s not the main goal here, and tracking doesn’t necessarily help the mission, but I feel better about it, and have accountability when I do it.

Tools of the Trade

Lost It: I just renewed my subscription (for a deal!) of the premium Lose It app. Now, I have heard some not so great things about the app, like how unrealistic some of the goals it’s sets for someone can be. But the thing is very customizable and it’s really just guidelines anyway.

Intermittent Fasting: LOSELY. I “fast” between 8pm and 8am daily. It reality it ends up being 8:30am or later before I have breakfast due to my schedule. And I don’t plan on closing that window anytime soon. I stopped eating after 8am when I was trying to lose weight before having The Kid, and it seemed to help.

You body tends to slow down on its functions in the evenings, and you don’t digest food well late at night (unless you’re in a schedule where you eat regularly at that time). You’re also not buying many calories while sleeping, so leaving food on your stomach over night is just bad form.

Some Overall Thoughts

  • Don’t deny yourself. If you are really truly craving something, go for it, just in moderation. Like I’d dance in the pale moonlight in my skivvies if I could get my hands on a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey. But I would try not to engulf the entire pint in one sitting.
  • Doesn’t have to be diet food. It’s just probably shouldn’t be garbage. Eat that Doritos Locos taco from Taco Bell, just keep the lettuce and tomato, and try not to order the whole cravings box and consume it all. Fun Fact the steak offerings come with a sodium warning.
  • Drink water. Muscle cramps suck.
  • Setbacks are normal. Don’t let it break you.
  • Small goals are good. They are baby steps to the big milestones.
  • Everything doesn’t work the same for everyone. Find what fits you and your life.
  • It’s a journey. There will be ups and downs.

Controlled Substances

The Kid Has ADHD & I Guess I’m ready to talk about it. Some.

This post was written and edited over a period of multiple weeks. Between personal issues and family issues to weather related power outages, I have managed to complete and post it.

My kid, who has been a glorious part of this world for the better part of this decade is the absolute best thing to happen to me. She is our miracle, as we tried for a long time to conceive and, until I found the right doctor, I never thought I could.

Now, almost ten years later she’s been a blessing. And also we’ve had some of the hardest times because of her.

I feel like a bad parent for saying that but I’ll explain.

The kid has been in daycare for her whole life. I cannot pinpoint for you when the trouble started but there were times, as she got older, that we would get messages from her daycare teachers, the women I often credit with helping raise her, that she was behaving inappropriately and unkindly.

This meant throwing fits and not doing what she was told. I don’t recall her ever purposefully hurting another child, but there have been times when her teachers have messaged me implying that if her behavior continued she would not be allowed to return.

Then school started, but she started school in the midst of a pandemic, and 75% of her kindergarten year was spent with virtual learning. To be honest, they had to give every kid a pass that year, there’s no way they all learned enough to be successful. The last half of her kindergarten year was mostly spent in a classroom. We heard nothing of any issues that year.

But when first grade rolled around we began to hear things. To be honest most of it is a blur. Except the number of times my husband and I had to leave work and go to school because she had a meltdown.

These meltdowns would range from shutting down and refusing to do anything or communicate to outright fits of kicking and screaming and falling to the floor.

No one has ever been physically hurt, but the kids were terrified, and school staff would have to clear the room until she could be calmed. And more often than not I was the only one who could calm her. That makes sense, as I’m often the only one she will listen to at home (no offense dad you know it’s true).

We also learned that she started second grade with an discipline plan, a plan of what to do if the situation occurs. Apparently it started in kindergarten and we didn’t know.

If it weren’t for the constant email updates for her amazing teacher and communication with the principals and staff (except for not telling us about the issue in kindergarten), and their frankness but kindness when discussing it, we wouldn’t have figured anything out. They also made it clear they too wanted the best for her.

It was my sister who brought it to our attention that she might have ADHD. My nephew, who is a teen now 🤮🤦‍♀️ had very similar issues when he was in the early years of school. So we discussed it with her doctor, filled out a form (Vanderbilt Assessment), which also had to be filled out by her teacher.

It was concluded she did in fact have signs and symptoms of ADHD. We started her on medication, first a 5mg dose of Dexmethylphenidate HCL ER, generic for Focalin. We ended up raising the dose to the 10mg when her outbursts continued.

She’s been on the medication for fourteen months. And she hasn’t had major issues in some time. She has and a few incidents but we discovered those are anxiety related. Anxiety can often occur in patients with ADHD. Ninety-nine percent of the time she does amazing. When she has her medicine.

Therein lies the problem.

I do not give her her medicine when she is home. I don’t see a reason to make her focus when she is at home doing nothing. If she is in a situation where she needs to be calm and receptive to instruction and good behavior, or when she might get anxious (I’ve been told my numerous people the meds help with anxiety), we give it to her.

So, the thirty day prescription can last longer than thirty days. And we only pick it up when she’s running low. That is also part of the problem.

Because right now, there is a shortage on many types of ADHD medications. This means that accessing it is difficult. And considering it is a controlled substance, walking up to my pharmacy, where they know me, and asking about it daily makes me feel like a drug seeker.

Honestly I probably need some kind of drug but well not get into it right now.

I’m sure the pharmacy employees are getting tired of seeing my face, but knowing what mg child can be like if she hasn’t had her medicine, scares me.

There have been a few people who have offhandedly commented on the fact that I am medicating her. But I won’t say what I think about their lives. Sorry that’s rude.

The Kid has been without her medication for almost three weeks. While she hasn’t had any major issues, we’ve seen some signs that perhaps she’s nearing an explosion. And that’s what I’m afraid of.

The most we can do is try and grind into The Kid’s mind how to handle her own feelings and emotions and how to calm herself down in case she gets upset. I’d love to not have to medicate her anymore, but I don’t foresee that being a possibility anytime soon.

Drugs y’all.

I have regerts

My life is a series of bad decisions. Not the “should be in jail” or “how am I still alive” bad decisions. But the, “everything could be different” bad decisions. Like, fifteen years ago when I graduated college, I made the decision to take time off before I started looking for teaching jobs. I babysat (I still have the bite mark to prove it) I then got married. And I decided that I didn’t want my new husband to have to keep paying my student loan payments. So, what did I do? Did I go out and try to get a teaching job?


Of course not.

I went and applied online to the local retail establishment. The thought was, “I’ll just work here for six months and then get a teaching job.


I got comfortable. I was making money already, why would I need to get a teaching job?

Then I started to realize that I wasn’t feeling fulfilled in said retail environment. Or was it that they offered me a position on the floor? I don’t know, it’s been a long time.

One of my more recent bad decisions I like to lovingly blame on the sudden influx of confidence from a brave (for me) new hair style. In April of 2021 I bought The Truck. Oh yes, for about 48 hours I loved the truck. Until the “Check Engine” light came on. My current working theory is that the dealership either bought a new battery or just left the one in it disconnected and the light cleared for a while.

More recently, two weeks ago, at the bottom of the hill where my day job is located, it died. It started to shake (NOT like a polaroid picture), the steering stiffened up, and then she died. Well, the engine died. The lights and everything else worked. Thankfully, since I was able to put my emergency flashers on so idiots didn’t rear end me in the dark.

See, the ironic, coincidental, or curious thing is, I asked the universe (my mom, in spirit) to give me a sign. What kind of sign, for what, you ask?

“Give me a sign if i shouldn’t put in for this promotion.”

Something like that nonsense. What better sign that for my only mode of transportation to the place where the promotion would be given dies at the bottom of the hill before I could get there. Ah yes, that funny little thing of maybe I should listen.

After dropping roughly $344 down a proverbial well, hoping to fix the thing, it died again four days ago. Luckily it was in the middle of town (its a small town) and not far from my Mother in Law’s house. We got it home the next day, and its not been started since.

But wait, there’s more

There’s a list of things, big and small, that have worn on my mental health over the last few weeks.

  • One of my bosses made me feel like he wasn’t confident in me in the promotion so it made me feel like I wasn’t good enough.
    • Said boss unintentionally made me feel like I was being punished for putting in for said promotion, It is important to note that not only would I be on his level had I gotten it, but he/we would be losing an employee in our area that would not be replaced.
  • I learned some interesting information about the whole work situation that made me feel like I would get it only to feel like i definitely won’t
  • The store manager is leaving, and I despise when there is a management shakeup. Especially when you develop some kind of rapport with the manager and you have to try to do the same with the new one. I’ve been through that process a lot.
  • The Kid lost the tip to her fake Apple Pencil, after someone “pre-ordered” a sticker of their dog. They paid money for it. And we paid money for the pencil that is absolutely useless now.
    • I am going to let her use my pencil and ipad to draw the dog and we will get the woman her sticker.
  • Apparently, I cannot use the available means of selling items on my website because PayPal wants me to use a business account so they can charge two different fees. I don’t sell enough stickers to validate eating the fee.
  • Since making the decision to apply for the promotion, there seems to be a negative change to The Kid’s behavior. She was doing so well and has had issues at school and home.
  • OH, and because we don’t like to give her ADHD medication when she isn’t at school, we forget to pick it up regularly every month, only when we are running low, not only will it not let us pick her new prescription up until MARCH, but they got the older one on file to go through, but THEY ARE OUT.

This sounds dumb but that list doesn’t feel long enough for what these last SEVERAL weeks have felt like. It’s probably the combination of all those things plus the overwhelming feeling of stress and worry that comes with them.

I still owe over $12,000 on the truck, I know I cannot sell it as is, it would have to be fixed, and I cannot afford to fix it.

I’ve kept myself in a constant state of panic and worry and stress over this promotion that I honestly don’t know heads from tails.

Also, my heartrate was at 120 when I finally pulled the truck into the driveway on Saturday. It took about ten minutes to get it to settle down into its normal range.

I’m chocking all these issues up to my terrible karma. I firmly believe that I unknowingly pissed in some vengeful spirit’s cheerios and they’re taking revenge on me. Anything I touch gets ruined.

Just thinking about all this is giving me chest pains. So, I’m going to end with a few notes. First, I’m trying to work on both Pretend Fantasy Novel, which will have a title soon, and Silent Secret, the 2nd Story. I want to have two separate pages for them, but don’t want to have to charge separate subscriptions. I’m going to try and finish the multiple free fiction stories that I’ve started, including Cora. The goal is also to have more side stories/lore/background/etc for PFN.

I am also going to try to post here more, including the only post anyone ever seems to hit like on, Spite Diet posts.

The Path of Least Resistance


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I’ve realized I’ve begun to base my life around how many days until my next day off. I was just off a day. My next day off is in three days. I literally just had a day off.

The fact that I am at the phase, or point or stage or whatever of my life that I am basing my life around when I don’t have to work is disappointing. Starting the countdown over again after a day off.

I do not work the same schedule as typical Americans. The average schedule is 9-5 Monday through Friday. The good ol’ 9-5. You hear it in movies and tv shows, newspapers and books and magazines. But not me, no.

I’m a lowly retail worker. We don’t close at 5 or 6 on Friday and open back up at 8 or 9 on Monday. Hour current store hours are 6am to 11pm seven days a week. I’m lucky enough to have gotten, after almost fourteen long years, a stable schedule working the same time every day. But I don’t get weekend off unless I ask for it. And even then it has to be approved my management.

Now, I already know that this living “day off to day off” is a symptom of not loving my job. While there are aspects of my job I do enjoy, and several I have grown to love appreciate, I do not love my job, either parts of it or it’s entirety.

This is a fact of life for many Americans. The majority of which (which I am a part of) simply cannot afford a career change, for one reason or another. So they are stuck in the path they have made and cannot fathom divergence from it.

Personally, I made some decisions early on and over the course of multiple years that led me to not leaving this path.

Think of it like this: you’re young and walking along a road. For several miles it is one lane, one direction. And then suddenly the road widens. Then signs up ahead warn you adulthood is approaching. Once you reach, more signs. Signs telling you “this way for higher education” whether that be trade school or college.

But the path varies for each individual. After college my path divided. Warning signs stated, “try for texting jobs ahead” and “take time off”. Guess which path I chose?

Then there was the marriage path. And then, again, “try to teach” and “job. Now.” I didn’t want my new husband to have to keep paying my student loan payment.

And after that the rest doesn’t matter. Because I quickly passed the detours for teaching and never realized until too late that I’d run out of chances. Except that once, when I interviewed for a teaching position. But honestly at that point the road was out.

Now, the only exits I have will keep me on the same track in the same state. Sure, there is always the potential to attempt a new route to the same destination. And that’s frankly the only option I have to have nicer scenery.

The fact is, I know if I take another route I won’t be happier. I’ll still be on the same level of life that I am now. Aspects will improve but, as has been said, with great power comes great responsibility. The situation doesn’t change, it’s just a little shinier. There’s still rust underneath.

The Spite Diet: 32 Day Update


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“Scales and Arpeggios”

Hi, my name is Crystal. Hi Crystal. It’s been 21 days since my last Update.

Spite Diet Reminder

  • The goal is supposed to be to change my eating habits and lifestyle to improve my health and see how much weight I can manage to lose before my next doctor appointment on March 29th.
  • I started it because my “lady” doctor, suggested i ask my regular doctor about Ozempic, a drug manufactured for diabetics that has shown positive results doe weight loss patients. And I wasn’t even asking about losing weight.
  • There’s a blog post coming soon about Ozempic.

For more info see this post.

So, how’s it going?


Seriously, listen. I’ve let the idea that I’m not going to be eating all my favorite foods the way I was eating them, the absolute consistency of routine has become boring, and I’m frustrated with a lack of results.

I’ve had more Pepsi than I should have (I firmly believe it is my one true vice and I’ll need a 12-step program to break its hold on me), I had a mental breakdown the other day and decided I needed Mexican food.

It was absolutely delicious and I regret most of it.

I feel terribly alone in this journey. There’s a post about that too but I’m not linking it.

I know how to fix (most) of it

But I have issues. I won’t go to the gym by myself because i’m an anxious scaredy cat. I won’t message them because I’m afraid of doing something to look stupid. And it’s too cold to walk.

And to be honest I can’t really go walking or to the gym on days it would benefit me most (high stress days) because it’s my job to pick up The Kid from daycare on those days. And of course I don’t want to add to His high stress.

I also know that to see results I need to break my own rules way less often. I saw more results (lost more weight) the first week because I had zero Pepsi and really stuck to the diet. I made less not so great choices and tried harder.

I want to do better. I need to do better. I want to prove my doctor wrong, even if I won’t see her again for another year. I don’t need drugs to lose weight. I need willpower, determination, and to not be so depressed gosh darn it.

So, wish me luck I guess?

The Spite Diet: sucks.


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It’s hard to change your lifestyle when you are alone.

When my mom had her stomach surgery, she was in the hospital for two months, she was on ventilator for a large portion of that time. In that span of time she had gone through the withdrawal of her nicotine addiction and had been without a cigarette.

When she was released into my sister’s care (excellent care) she was without cigarettes. I cannot remember how long she stayed with my sister. But she eventually decided that she was healed enough and knew how to take care of herself and her newfound circumstances, and was ready to go back to the home she shared with my dad.

But when she returned, neither my father nor my brother, who both lived with her, nor my other brother, stopped smoking around her. My sister and I were smart enough to never pick up that habit. But the rest didn’t care enough not to smoke around her.

She was in her late 50s, and it would have done her a service to neglect to partake. I’m sure pointing this out to them now would mean nothing to them. But had they done so, she might have stopped for good.

However, one day, she decided that she would stop at a gas station, and buy her first pack of cigarettes in months.

She tired to hide it but we knew.

Had her lifestyle change been important to everyone the same way it was to her and myself and my sister, she might have had better success. Her support system could have been larger, so to speak.

Of course a lot of it has to with the individual’s willingness to stick to the change. But it helps having people around you who are right there with you. It’s easier to do things together than it is alone.

There’s a point to my rambling.

I’ve been doing this “Spite Diet” thing for one month. I’ve only lost 6 pounds. I’ve weighed myself three times. I’ve not gained it back. But I’ve only lost 6 pounds.

I tried to go to the gym but couldn’t get in.

I try to eat healthy and meal prep.

The other night I cooked some diced chicken and quinoa. It was delicious and I wanted to save the rest for lunch the next day. I rested for a while after my meal and returned to the kitchen to package up my leftovers, and it appeared I’d left less chicken than I thought.

My first thought was, “oh, maybe I didn’t just take half? Or “did I maybe get seconds without realizing?” As if my eating disorder (not claiming to have an eating disorder here) is so bad I black out while eating.

Now, I knew my husband had made his own dinner. I saw the cooking paraphernalia on the stovetop. He wouldn’t have ate some of my chicken as well as what the hell ever he made for himself, would be?

Oh, but he would. “Honey, did you eat some of my chicken?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I was going to save that for my lunch tomorrow.”

“Oh, sorry.”

That’s it. Oh, sorry. That’s all.

Tonight, I had my dinner and was going to make a quick wrap for lunch at work tomorrow. I was thinking about that wrap all day. The last one was so good.

It’s a whole wheat tortilla, a serving size is good deli turkey, a single slice of Swiss, some spinach, a little Mayo, and if I was feeling frisky a thin slice of tomato (too much makes it soggy). I would pair it with veggie straws and some pickles.

I walk into the kitchen and see, sitting on the counter, my turkey. Now, last I left it there were enough for two wraps. There was barely enough for one. I could have made it work.

But, it was room temp. Now, one could assume that had it not been out that long, it might have been fine. But one does not know what I know, which is that my husband and child left the house around (you know what I don’t know what time) before noon. Eight hours before I went to make my lunch.

I’m a dumbass. But I’m not so much of a dumbass as to not know that eating eight hour old counter lunch meat would make a good time not. I mean, I might lose some weight afterward, but that’s not how I want to do it. Or how I want to die.

So, when he walked into the room, I asked him, “honey, is that my good Turkey?”

“What turkey?”

I point. “That room temperature Turkey over there.”

“Yes. The Kid wanted a sandwich. Sorry.”

At this point I really just shut out the universe. pretty sure I said, “it’s fine” at least ten times.

He asked me if I wanted him to go get more. It was after 8pm at this point. No, it’s fine. Are you sure. It’s fine.

He went to his room was gone for a few minutes, and came out dressed for public (meaning not shorts) and said, “I’ll be back.”

Where you going? To get Turkey. I said it’s fine. Are you sure? It’s fine. I’ll figure out something else or I’ll buy lunch. It’s fine.

You know, I understand the kid was hungry. I understand that even I have forgotten to put stuff back in the refrigerator (RIP giant bag of frozen broccoli). We all do forgetful things, and we also have to feed the children.

But he ate my chicken, when he had or was making his own dinner. He’s not trying to lose weight or eat healthier (going all day and not having anything but off brand slim fast and Quaker chewy bars isn’t healthy either).

I’m alone in this. I’m doing it by myself. Just me and a stupid app that reminds me that even if I think the food I’m making is healthy, it is in fact not. Because of all 9,000 things that have to be taken into account.

If I didn’t just THOROUGHLY LOVE FOOD, if my emotions and eating were not lovers who slow danced from dawn to dark, if I didn’t crave the most delicious gawd awful unhealthy delicacies, then losing weight would be a cakewalk.

But two days ago I had Mexican food, real Mexican food, because I was having a stressful day and craved that polo bandito, and a large Pepsi. Tonight I had Taco Bell. And you know what, the first thing I’m gonna eat when I finally give up the charade of this “Spite Diet” is most of a little Caesar’s hot and ready pepperoni pizza. And I’m going to have some kind of enormous delectable ice cream dessert.

That six pounds I lost two weeks ago, well it’ll be back. Like Arnold Swartzenegger in that terminator movie. Even if I don’t quit, even if I improve my eating, and change my lifestyle completely. Because I’m not made for success. I’m built for failure. Like a structurally unsound tower made from off brand Lego bricks from the reject bin.

Why am I even doing this? To live longer? For my pants for fit better? To be able to work an eight hour shift without wanting to remove my own feet?

None of those things. Who wants to live a long life in this world? most of mg pants fall off me right now anyway, losing weight will make it worse. And the damage is already done to my feet and ankles.

No, I started this last month to prove to a doctor I see once a year that I can lose weight without taking an injectable diabetes once a month. I did it to spite that doctor. To prove her wrong. And all I’m getting out of it is depression and cravings for food I can’t have.

I’m not a happy person anyway, and this is not helping.

Relax he doesn’t read this



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One year, for Christmas I assume, my mom got my sister and I necklaces. They couldn’t have been very expensive, by any means, definitely less that $100. But my mom never did anything half way.

Her 100% always came in the form of thoughtfulness and care. When giving gifts she put a lot of thought into it, wanting to get someone something that she knew they would love, or that meant a lot.

Now I cannot remember for the life of me what my sister got. But I remember mine was a key. She told his, when she gave them to us (at least she told me), that she picked them out special, and there was a reason she got us what she did.

I asked her why she got me the key and why it was so special. Her answer was super annoying at the time but also very much her. “You’ll know.” She said. “It’ll come to you.”

Now, this was a long time ago, I want to say I wasn’t married yet. But I tend to remember obscure useless things as opposed to important information, so it’s safe to say I’m getting something wrong. But I do remember saying, “well, I do like keys.” And I do.

(There’s a bag of random keys somewhere in my house that happened to be in my husband’s brother’s belongings when he passed. My mother in law gave them to my husband for me and said, “give these to Crystal, she might be able to do something with them.” I actually have ideas.)

Now, not knowing why she choose the key for me bothered me, for years, but not enough for me to stress it. It wasn’t that big of a deal, and I did love the necklace. And my mom.

But through the circumstances of life, one loses things, they go back and forth, and get misplaced, no matter how valuable they are to you. I cannot tell you the last time I saw that necklace. And it’s not been recent. It hurts my soul that I’m missing something from her. But I’m sure she’d understand, she’d lost enough of her own items in her lifetime.

But I recently remembered it. I often do, when keys are involved.

When she died (I’ve always found “passed away” to be an odd saying) we were going through her things, as tradition sees fit. I never understood why it had to be rushed. But one of the things we decided to search through was her jewelry box.

Said jewelry box has its own history. She’d had it for many many years, I believe since she was 16. It’s beautiful and old and full of the most random items, that are NOT jewelry. Except the mood ring.

We went through that box that day, looking at all the little trinkets and knick knacks and items she’d hoarded with the best intentions. Pictures and figurines and pennies. Locks of hair and crumbled four leaf clovers.

All of it has attached memories and stories and lore that will never be shared again, at least not in the most perfect, wonderful way she told it. Memories lost of a lifetime turned to ashes blown in the wind one humid sunny day.

On that jewelry box, whose hinges had been pried off for access previously—I do not know who by, nor whether their intentions were good or bad, there is nothing if monetary value there—is a lock.

The lock is a sturdy one, strong. By a company that I believe no longer exists. The reason the hinges were pried off, was because they couldn’t get to the lock. Now, Mom had lost the key multiple times. Which isn’t hard to believe, knowing her and how long she’d had the jewelry box. There were two keys.

That day, the day she died, and we decided to dig gently through the physical representations of my mother’s youth, reliving the memories of the stories she told about every single item, I somehow became the guardian of one of the keys.

I now keep the key, hanging from a chain, with two cheap mother of pearl style buttons decorating it. I sometimes wear it out and about, and like to imagine that she’s near when I do.

As the years have gone by, as they do in spite of our best wishes, I think of my mom less often, and those thoughts are more often less sad. I’ve had one or two very very brief seconds where I have forgotten, for a glimpse of a moment, that she is gone. And living in the momentary thought, that maybe I could still call her number and tell her, “goodnight, I love you” is pure bliss.

But wearing the key to her jewelry box, and somehow the key to her memories and a key to memories of her and with her, I am reminded of that key necklace. And her reason behind giving it to me.

“You’ll know.” She’d said. “It’ll come to you.”

I am the keeper of a key. Her key. My key.

My world needs you, but you do not need this world. 🔑

Well, 62 was a good number.


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I’m not calling it failure because I didn’t put a number on it. I’m really just amazed I lasted as long as I did, even with a little cheating. But last night, after working on several different things, I forgot and went to sleep.

Here’s a list of things I did tonight.

  • Created a store front for sticker sales.
    • There are two stickers by myself and two by The Kid.
  • Made my Cricut work
    • When I tried to use it to cut stickers the other day, it messed up. I used some tips from TT comments to figure it out. I had to turn off my lights to do it.
  • Figured out how to keep Cricut Design Space from adding a bold black line to my images.
    • It has to do with transparency. Now I just gotta figure out how to fix the stickers I’ve already designed.
  • Completed The Kid’s stickers.
    • The only thing I did was create a white background with a distinct and clear border for CDS and the Cricut to cut.
  • Published the storefront and sold two stickers!
    • They were the kid’s but still. She earned $4.
  • Learned how to and made a stamp/brush in Procreate to easily add “The Kid ‘23” to her images.
    • At some point I’ll get her to help.
  • Printed two of each of The Kid’s stickers, and one of mine, just so I didn’t waste paper.
    • I then used the Cricut to cut said stickers. While they were cutting I got two separate notifications that two of hers sold.
    • We packaged those up in a sweet envelope, after she wrote a little message of course, and they’ll be hand delivered tomorrow. Ah, the glory of knowing your customers personally.

I have some to make for my nephew, he only gave me guidance on one, requested an edit on another, and liked one more but didn’t say if he wanted it. It’s not ready anyway.

I’m sure this will be yet another failed side hustle did me, but it’s fun. And if I don’t print something every day my stupid printer acts a fool.

I’m not planning on beating my streak for a while. Gonna post as they come. But I’ve got a few in the pipeline. Another page of Cora’s story. A review of some Oats Overnight flavors, and some Spite Diet updates.

Anyway here’s Wonderwall some stickers.

My Bob I’m tired.

Oats Overnight Redux: A Review (Part One)


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Since starting The Spite Diet I’ve made a point of searching for the best food options for a healthier lifestyle. My usual go-to for breakfast turned out to have more fat than the meals I was making for lunch and dinner during the diet.

So, I started searching for a better option, one that was just as convenient as my Chocolate Fudge Pop Tarts, and affordable. I kept coming back to Oats Overnight.

I’d had the subscription before, but honestly I got bored of it, and kept forgetting to rinse the bottle 🤦‍♀️. So I canceled with several pouches in my cabinet. Well, I went back the other night and found the box of neglected leftovers, and was going to fix me up a batch for the next morning.

But they had expired.

So decided I resubscribe. This go ‘round, I selected all different flavors, some new to me, some I remember enjoying the last time. The following is a review of all the flavors I received. This post will be several weeks in the making. Let’s get into it!

Mixed Berries & Cream

I poured the pouch into the free (with subscription) Blender Bottle and added 8oz of vanilla almond milk to the line on the bottle. I threw it in the fridge the night before around 10pm. I took it to work with me to enjoy around 8:30am.

  • Obstacles: (large ingredients that require additional effort) berries: not a ton and pleasant, fun to chew the rehydrated blueberries. minimal effort. 8/10
  • Flavor: berries and cream will always be a great flavor in my opinion. No unpleasant aftertaste. 9/10
  • Texture: basically thin oatmeal. Expected. No graininess. nothing unexpected. 9/10
  • Overall: easy to eat, enjoyable breakfast, fits well into my diet plan. Tons of protein.


Dark Chocolate Sea Salt

  • Obstacles: chocolate chunks. Small, hard but not difficult to chew. Seem to settle to the bottom. 7/10
  • Flavor: CHOCOLATE. It’s delicious. Tastes very much like a really good chocolate ice cream. Except for, you know, oatmeal and chia seeds. 10/10
  • Texture: no graininess. Definitely needed a good shake again, to disperse the ingredients. Expected texture for good overnight oats. No complaints 9/10
  • Overall: great flavor, good texture, a few obstacles. 8.5/10

Flavor in Development: Cookies and Cream

Enjoyed in January 24.
Via Oats Overnight Instagram
  • Obstacles: besides the typical ingredients from their base mix, like chia seeds, I had no issues. Ingredients list says cookies crumbs, but I imagine they absorbed the almond milk and got soggy. Like I like my Oreos. 10/10
  • Flavor: first let me tell you, when I opened up the package, I didn’t know what flavor it was. It smelled like chocolate chip cookies. I saw that there was cocoa powder in the mix based on color. I wasn’t mad. the flavor is delicious I can taste the chocolate cookie flavor, and it a good pairing for oats. Would enjoy again. 9.8/10
  • Texture: classic OO texture. No graininess, no inconsistency or bitterness. The cookie crumbs it touts in the ingredients maybe got lost in the milk overnight. But I can still taste the flavor. 10/10
  • Overall: amazing. Top of the list so far. 9.5/10

Strawberries & Cream

  • Obstacles: none detected. Pieces of strawberries are small enough that they blend right in, in fact, in this batch they might either be a little too small or sparse. 7/10
  • Flavor: delicious strawberries and cream flavor. Not quite as potent a flavor as the Quaker Oats version of S&C oatmeal. But this taste less artificial because of the milder flavor. 8/10
  • Texture: there’s a little bit of a mouth feel after you have a gulp and swallow. Not grainy, but like a residue? I’m sure if you take a swig of water it’ll go away. Otherwise, it’s typical classic Oats Overnight texture. 8/10
  • Overall: a more traditional, classic, milder flavor for OO. Could use more strawberry but not a lot. But it also could have been a “luck of the batch” issue. 8/10

Green Apples & Cinnamon

  • Obstacles: small chunks of diced dried apples. They rehydrate well, and give a bit of chew to the mix. Not unpleasant and a subtle not overpowering taste. 8/10
  • Flavor: it’s a very light subtle flavor. Not overpowering or overbearing. It’s a good neutral flavor. It’s not going to surprise you or be overwhelming in the morning. There’s no odd aftertaste either. Nothing to write home about either. 7.5/10
  • Texture: typical overnight oats texture, drinkable with little obstacles to have to break down or avoid. No graininess unwanted textures for overnight oats. 9/10
  • Overall: good simple breakfast that’s not overwhelming or too much for one’s senses first thing. 8/10

So far.

To be honest, I’ve gotten bored. There’s been a few times over the course of a month that I just did not want to drink breakfast. The flavor options I had or the one I’d premade the night before did not thrill me.

I’ve also had a lot of stress of late, and wanted something more fulfilling in a enjoyment sense. Basically meaning not healthy. So, I’d let the oats I’d made go bad or just skip making them altogether.

It’s important when your on a health journey where you adjust your diet to what works best for you to eat foods you enjoy, not just what seems healthy. Boredom can lead to making decisions that are counterproductive to your goals.

I’ve been trying to interchange my oats with other options, like a protein shake and bar. While I’m still not perfect at eating, meal prep, and all things The Spite Diet, I’m trying. And I’m a long way from giving up.

Important Spite Diet update coming soon!