Bananas and Leprechauns

What I’m about to reveal may shock you.  In fact, you may want to sit down first.  Here goes:  my family goes through 28 bananas a week.  Yup.  Twenty-eight.  As in two shy of thirty. 

A lot of Bananas, but not all 28

I know what you are thinking, because it is probably one of the same things the surprised cashiers can’t help themselves from blurting out when I appear at their registers each week with enough bananas for an entire sex-ed class:

“Wow, you must really like bananas.”
“Heh, that’s a lot of bananas.”
“Whooah.  How many bananas do you have here?!?”
And my personal favorite: “Heheh.  Do you have a monkey? Heheheh.”

My response?  “Yes. Yep. Twenty-Eight. And no, unless you count these two brown eyed beauties swinging from my cart.”

But it’s really not as bad as it sounds.  Four people eating one banana a day just adds up quickly.  Chris takes one to work every morning, and Allison has been eating an entire banana with breakfast since she was 11 months old.  Nicole reliably eats all but the last two inches of hers.  (I’m convinced she believes the end of the banana is merely the ‘handle’ which is meant to be unceremoniously discarded over the side of her booster seat each morning.)  And me?  I see bananas as a vessel for my daily dose of Nutella.

I wonder if we could get a banana tree to grow in our basement.  It would probably save us a bundle.

On an entirely different note, I received an interesting email from WeightWatchers yesterday.  I haven’t actually participated in WeightWatchers in ages, but occasionally they send me a “We miss you” postcard or email to try to entice me to put down the cake and get back on track.  I usually just put my fork down long enough to hit ‘delete’ before moving on, but the subject line of this one caught my eye: “Slim down for St. Patrick’s Day!”

Really?  For St. Patrick’s Day?  I can see wanting to slim down for summer, what with all the sleeveless tops and swimsuits and all.  I can even see wanting to slim down for Christmas (all those family photos).  But St. Patrick’s Day?  Do they think I want to look good in my leprechaun costume?  Because if I recall, leprechauns are pretty short and stocky, and my costume has never fit so well.

Or perhaps they mean I should slim down to look good when I go hit the pubs.  Two problems with this theory:  A.  I am no longer childless and twenty-something, so the only thing I hit on a Saturday evening is the couch.  And B.  Even if I did go to the pub, nothing melts away your body’s imperfections like other people’s high blood alcohol levels.

Sorry, WeightWatchers.  You’re not getting me back this time.  But let me know when bikini season is nigh; it may be just the motivation I need.

Speaking of not dieting, I found the most wonderful thing at Costco while perusing the samples.  I can’t remember what they are called, but they are like chocolate-covered-pringles from heaven, and I highly recommend them to anyone trying to gain ten pounds before St. Pat’s Day (I know not everyone is blessed with a naturally perfect leprechaun build, but with a little work, you can get there).