Frozen Pizza, Part Two:

Goodness, who knew how many opinions there might be on such a prosaic subject as frozen food? Yes, I do actually eat frozen pizza every night. Well, I do have the occasional "wild card" day where I veer from the routine. But, in general I eat what I want. And that is pizza. Lean Cuisine and Lean Pocket varieties during the week and DiGorno on the weekends. If it makes people feel any better I eat only salads during the day...well, during the school year, anyway. I fall off the wagon a bit in the summer what with the lack of a schedule and all. In addition, I successfully managed to take off approximately sixty pounds just over a year ago and have kept it off through regular exercise and portion control. I see my doctor every other month for a weigh-in and med. review due to the ADD medication and have had a plethora of tests run over the last few months due to the Monkey Pox debacle in May. I am well taken care of and probably won't expire from malnutrition in the foreseeable future.

I am an excellent cook. Italian foods happen to be my specialty. I can make my own pasta from scratch. I bake bread that would make you cry.

I live in a resort community with access to some of the best pizza and pier fries you've ever had. And cotton candy should the mood strike.

Sadly, in order that I might have disposable income, I work two jobs. I teach full time and work for an agency in my off hours. Truthfully, the Monkey Pox took a toll on my ability to really put in the hours that I used to, but you get the idea. Time is something I don't have much of on many days. I don't cook as much as I used to.

The disposable income I mentioned is currently earmarked for my hobbies, although a good portion is continuing to go to Dr. DeSade DMD in order that I might pay off the ungodly amount of dental work that my insurance didn't cover during the six months that I was privileged to spend with this delightful gentleman. I would love to order out regularly, but would much rather get me some of that sweet, sweet fiber I do so love to spin.

I'm picky. And single. I have the luxury of eating what I want for dinner. The only thing I ever seem to want to eat is pizza. What can I say?

That's not to say that, should you invite me to your house for dinner, I will turn up my Sheepie nose at whatever you may be offering. My mama taught me better. If you tell me that we will be dining on lightly braised cow nostrils over a bed of pickled grass freshly harvested from your neighbor's lawn with a cactus salad on the side, I will withhold judgment and dig in just like one of the family. And, given that you work with such exotic ingredients, you will probably prove to be a chef of the highest caliber. I will not only take home the leftovers, but I will demand the recipe fully intending to dine on this fare for the remainder of my days. Said days will be numbered, however. For my will is weak.

I'm picky. I always end up back with the pizza. As choices go, it could be worse. I could have an ongoing hankering for Oreos or crack.

I do promise, however, to take my vitamins, eat my veggies and drink all eight glasses of water I'm supposta.

Honest.

SA