Dahlings Let's Have A Teaparty!

Dahlings, hello and good morning and all that other mushy stuff I'm prone to say on a day such as today.

You see, its TEAPARTY time here the Reasonably Chubby  residence and really there could be nothing more fun.

You think your husband buying you a diamond ring would be more fun? Well, see that proves you don't know anything.

Bungee jumping? Well. that just proves you're plain crazy with a little bit of dumb thrown in.

No, dearhearts, its TEAPARTIES that are fun, the absolute most fun in all the world and I wish terribly you could all be here to join in the merriment. But, alas you cannot. So, I shall drink a cup of tea with four sugar cubes in your honor instead...

I have 7 friends coming tonight and it's taken me 7 hours to get ready. Coincidence? I think not. Thank goodness I've decided to throw a party. I needed a reason to dust. And clean the potties.

I'm serving scones with clotted cream and lemon curd, chicken salad on croissant, and of course chocolate covered strawberries.

Here's my sweet daughter slaving away in the kitchen. This thrills my heart like none other-my children being my personal servants. I asked her to wear a uniform to make it official but she refused. It's hard to find obedient help these days.

It was such a feast for the eyes I took another picture.

And another...MOTHER, she growled with a meaness I hadn't heard before...She's going to make an excellent mother someday now that she's honed 'the look'.

Dahlings, I'll be thinking of you tonight. I promise. Especially after all my guests have gone home, and I'm looking at the disaster left behind  in my kitchen.

Tootles for now...Oh, and hugs and cheeky kisses!

Good News!

I have good news. I will not under any circumstance be changing the name of this blog. Unless you pay me like, at least a hundred bucks, or offer to take me out to dinner. Then, I might.  I'm cheap and flighty as you well know.

This decision came after careful thought  and napping and my youngest daughter saying, "what, are you stupid?
And that's what woke me up. Literally, her voice in my ear, saying, 'mom! mom! take me shopping... She reminded me that being "reasonably" chubby was perfectly acceptable. Desirable even, at my age. (Thoughtful of her to point out. Even though she did kind of say it in a mean way.  "Who wants some stringy-armed old woman to give you a hug? I like soft."  Her words, not mine. I quicky reminded her, "I'm only 44, not 104. You realize me and Cindy Crawford are the same age?  I can still bear children."  She just stared at me...)
 She reminded me that a "reasonably" chubby lap was always the favorite spot everyone wanted to be on a cold winter's night. (She does love to cuddle. She'd probably like it if I'd feed her a bottle but I refuse. I have my limits.)

Anyway, I know you're absolutely THRILLED  my blog will remain as is. That's why I like you. Small, insignificant things thrill you.  Me too. I can't even begin to share how happy I was with my newest nail polish/file kit picked up for 5 measly cents today at a garage sale.

P.S. I'm on a 'healthy eating for 40 days kick'.  So far, so good. 1 1/2 days down, 38 1/2 days to go... If I keep this up I'll probably be able to speak perfect chinese by breakfast.

My Name Is Slim...

I'm seriously considering changing the name of this blog. To  'superskinny'. Or maybe 'wispofawoman'.  I've also considered 'superfit',  'ieatcrunchylettuce', and 'scrawnychicken.'

Why? you ask? in your shrill voiced,  frightened way... *SIGH*   Leettle grasshoppah, come hee-uhre. I shall enlighten you. It is after all one of my favorite jobs, enlightening the world with my brilliant flashes of insight.

 I've come to the realization that by referring to myself as 'reasonablychubby' I'm doomed  to suffer with  perpetual plumpness. Yes, it's a cute name. Adorable if you ask me. ReasonablyChubby...  it rolls off the lips, and makes me want to eat a whole stick of butter.  BUT....  I'm reinforcing an image of rotund roundness in moo-wah's mind.   (I realize 'suffer' is a relative term. If one considers eating cheesecake 'suffering' then so be it. And sometimes I suffer and take midday naps. When I could potentially be outside sweating in 100 degree weather burning additional calories.)

So, you see? If I refer to myself as the self-disciplined, tiny boned woman that I really am, ( *see above picture*  )  I IMMEDIATELY get a craving for broccoli and sparkling water straight  from the tap.  Or, 'agua' as I like to call it.

Yes, that's another benefit.  Thinking of myself as the tall, world traveling, you can't see me when I step behind that stop sign, my gawd her cheeks are sunken that woman must never eat supermodel that I am, I immediately gain the ability to speak fluent Spanish. Taco, burrito, quesadilla, fajita, salsa, cheeps with lots of salt, queso, rice and beans...

Adios amigos!

The New Love Of My Life

I don't know how I forgot to include this in my anniversary pictures...this piece of manna- from- heaven, melt- in- your- mouth, I-can die-now, hallelujah-and-amen piece of  Wonderfulness. It's called Banana Foster's Cheesecake.

 And it was almost the highlight of our trip to New Orleans. I kid you not.  We still  haven't fully emerged from the sugar buzz it created. Mr. Wonderful and I have been staring at each other with glazed eyes and loopy grins for two days now.

 Yeah, yeah, I know. You're thinking, "well that's somehow not surprising coming from a fatty-potatty like yourself."
I hear your jealousy. I understand.
But seriously. I miss it already.

Hey, by the way, did you see I now have 54 FOLLOWERS!!! whoo-hoo! I'm on my way to nekkidness in Rome...I'm going to go scream  into my pillow.