We’re Gay Bitches.. ?

For those not already privy to the onslaught of texts (which has been one person, actually), Jeff aka The SO, has been considering a re-enlistment in the military (he was Navy for just over 9 1/2 years).

Branch is negotiable and dependent on re-entry level and pay grade, etc., so there is much research that is required. But if he completes 20 years in the military, regardless of the branch he goes into, he is eligible for a retirement pension, which is about the only way anyone in this household will ever have any sort of retirement anything.

However, in order for him to do this, he must lose a minimum of roughly 50 pounds. I, being the queen of losing weight (not always in a good way, but with the sense of healthy eating necessary for this quest), have been nominated as the Diet Police.

No, honestly, this makes me happy. I get to be in control of something.

Why, yes, I am Type A, why do you ask?

Anywho, we’ve opted for this coming “Grocery Shopping Saturday” as the start date.

A clean slate.

A fresh start.

I advised him of the My Fitness Pal app on the phones, which he has no patience for because a) our phones are horse-crap and b) he doesn’t want to take the time to record everything he eats because of a).

So I tell him tonight to either use the app and suffer with the agony of the phone, or take the quick route and write it down so I can log it. OR? He can let me pack his lunch and then I will already know.

His response?

“Uh, that’s getting a little bit G-A-Y.” He spells the last word, apparently thinking our still-awake seven year old is too dense to sound out a three letter word (No, he’s not a total asshole for that comment, I swear. He’s just of the mindset that he doesn’t require a “mommy” to pack food for him; he’s always done it himself.).

“Hey!” I say to him. “Donovan can spell, you know.”

Donovan pipes up with “What? What was it?” He’s busy playing Angry Birds Rio on my horse-crap phone in very jerky segments, so he may or may not have heard the entire conversation.

“Nothing, honey. Just forget it.” I answer.

“Was it BITCH?!” he asks.

Snort!

What?

“No,” I say, failing massively at containing my laughter. “It wasn’t bitch. Just.. you.. just play Angry Birds! And don’t say that!”

I guess we need to have a talk with the school system about his spelling abilities.

My defense?

He gets it from his dad.

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About Caitlin's Concepts

Mom to 4 boys and drowning in a sea of testosterone!
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6 Responses to We’re Gay Bitches.. ?

  1. kris says:

    That is awesome! “Was it BITCH?” Snorty giggles!

    Mark won’t let me pack him a lunch either, because he likes to have choices at lunch. If he knows what is in his lunch, he gets all sad. Like a child. My husband is an expensive fastfood-eating goofball.

    Yay on the military plan!

    Good luck on managing his weight loss plan.

    Control is fun!

    Ahem.

  2. Shell Things says:

    LMAO!!!! Just start guessing bad words, I guess!

  3. jeleystorey says:

    Wow, this is a major change! Good luck to SO! HE SHOULD BE THRILLED TO HAVE YOU PACK HIS LUNCHES! So not gay! Love Donovan’s comment! Hee-hee! Bad, but funny! I will miss you when this plan goes through, and it will. So proud of SO to want to join the military. He is exactly who we need defending our country! I had thought about doing that long ago, but was deterred with the reminder by my mom I think that I did not respond well to authority. And I whine. That would not be a good place to whine! Love you guys! Thanks for the laughs! You are the best. Always great posts whether funny or serious!

    • that I did not respond well to authority. And I whine. That would not be a good place to whine

      bahahaha! Oh, I know what you mean. I never had the desire myself to go into the military, but I have nothing but the utmost respect for those people that do!

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