The Smartass’ Guide to Handling the Food Police

So, I participated in my first Diabetic Connect Diabetes Education chat tonite, and it was a lot of fun. I always like to meet new people online (because we all know I have super social anxiety in real life, eek!) and the group was a kick. Tonite’s topic of discussion was handling eating during the holidays, and someone mentioned the thing that is always on the Top 10 Biggest Annoyances list for any diabetic: the food police.

You know who I’m talking about, those people who watch over your shoulder, asking if you can eat that roll, telling you to put down the pie and generally just being worse than your mother was 6 days after coming home from the hospital.

Every diabetic has come across at least on in their life.

Diabetic Connect has a very good list of ways to handle the food police, and they are most certainly very good and should be given a look by anyone who has ever found themselves in a position where people are questioning their culinary choices. But since I’m a snarky smartass, I really can’t see myself implementing them after the first round of being asked “doesn’t that have sugar?” six times is over.

You were warned

You were warned

So, in that vein, I now give you

THE SMARTASS’ GUIDE TO HANDLING THE FOOD POLICE

Snarky Responses to “You Can’t Eat That.”

1. Really? I thought I was the one going to college.

2. That’s cool, because you really shouldn’t be talking with your mouth full.

3. I think this pie would look way better on my ass than on yours.

4. That’s too bad, because these mashed potatoes are so lonely, they need a friend. Like the turkey I just ate.

5. For one day, my body can handle it. You, however, will always be ugly no matter what you eat.

6. Several peer-reviewed articles in Diabetes Care seem to disagree with you.

7. Good thing your insurance premiums/tax dollars are paying for my insulin pump.

8. Blame Obama.

9. I’m a piranha. They in the Amazon.

10. Silly me, I forgot you are an expert on diabetes care! Please, what can I eat?

11. Hold on, let me grab my towel and consult the Hitchhiker’s Guide.

12. You’re fired.

13. Taking a break from bothering your spouse/significant other/parent I see. How about you take a break from bothering me, too.

14. I need you to go outside and double-check that the dairy elves haven’t smeared the metal posts outside with ice cream again. It’s impossible to get off and I don’t want to spend the money replacing them again. The only way to do it is to preform a taste test. (Works best in cold climates).

15. Your ever-widening ass shows that you have no business giving me dietary advice.

What would be on your Smartass’ Guide to Handling the Food Police?

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The Bowels of Mediocrity

I know I’m not the only parent out there who sees some cute little art project and goes “awwww that’s soooo cute, imma try that!” You know what projects I’m talking about, those adorable ones involving painting infant digits and transposing them onto various media. These Pinterest Martha Stewarts come up with some awesomesauce idea, try it out, and then post it out there for the whole world to see.

Aww, that’s soooo cute, imma try that!

Well, after an attempt at getting Baby Imp’s little hands onto some Christmas ornaments for the grandparents, I have only one thing to say right now:

Fuck you Pinterest moms.

That’s right, you heard me. Fuck you all. Fuck you and your perfect little art projects that go perfectly and your expensive cameras that photograph it perfectly. Fuck your well-behaved, grass-fed angelic children and the horse they rode in on – which would be you.

In the words of Lily Allen: Fuck you very, very much.

(Seriously, go listen to the song. I fucking love me some Lily Allen. ❤ We’ll just forget for a moment that I’m the one being hateful and distasteful…)

If there is one site on planet Earth that can make a mother feel like a complete and utter failure, it’s Pinterest. In the sea of perfect mothers, I’m one of the bottom-feeders. I can’t get my food to look pretty, my living room is super uncoordinated and my Christmas tree could give Charlie Brown a run for his money.

Merry fucking Christmas

I can’t get my child to not eat paint and I sure as hell can’t get her to sit still for the mere 10 seconds it would take me to get her damn handprint on an sphere of cheap plastic. Please, for the love of God, tell me what it is you all do to make it so that your children sit still long enough to make a perfectly-designed art project. What are you feeding these kids? Do I need to invest in some Ritalin?

I can’t even blog without my daughter keyboard mashing. She has somehow keyboard mashed so that I can’t cursor in to the middle of a paragraph and add stuff without it typing over things. The good news is, this experience has taught me exactly what the key labeled “insert” actually does.

But I digress.

While Pinterest moms can suck my left tit, I did find comfort in Craft Fail. It’s nice to see I’m not the only mom who epic fails at this sort of stuff:

That looks JUST LIKE MINE!

There’s even a cute little blurb along with every craft fail, go check it out. It made me smile in the midst of all my anger.

All I was trying to do was make some nice Christmas presents for the grandparents and great grandparents that didn’t look like they were a mess, and all I got was a messy baby and a chance to revisit my softball-playing days by throwing the ornament across the kitchen.

I hope all you Pinterest moms have ten thousand epic fails for every awesome thing you post. I send the demon of craft fails upon you all.

In the meantime, I’m going to go eat homemade chocolate nuts. Because while my cooking always looks like dinosaur poop, it at least tastes delicious.


A big shout-out goes to Lord Imp, who got the baby bathed and diapered for me while I was being angry. He’s awesome.