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Swamp Mermaid Sustenance

donuthaiku

Damn, I love donuts.

They combine two of my favorite things: carbs and sugar. I know I talked about how much I love pancakes…but I’m like known by my love of donuts. This was my birthday cake two years ago…donutcake

I knew it was a thing of mine. Not my proudest thing. I mean…it’s not like I have some really cool fit hobby. Like I will never be the Crossfit girl. I think I would die if I tried and I’m not ready to meet my maker. I’m not the half-marathon girl and certainly not the full marathon girl. I mean- I have a deeply negative visceral reaction to the thought of running 26.2 miles.

One time I actually texted my roommate to bring me donuts while she was on a date. I was feeling too swampy to put on a bra and drive the mile down the street. Plus,  I was doing bed yoga. Yes…bed yoga. It was too much at the time to get on the floor and stretch so I child-posed-it-up on my bed. It is actually surprisingly dangerous as you can smother yourself in the mattress if you’re not careful.  See picture below.  I don’t recommend it.

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My favorite place to get donuts is Mrs. Johnson’s Bakery. It opens in the late evening until noon the next day so that Swamp Mermaids and Mermen can be blessed with the flakey delight of some of the best donuts at the hours it is worst for the digestive system. I may or may not frequent this donut shop on the reg.  I believe its owned by this sweet older couple I usually see there.  The lady most often takes my order in complete silence. I give the order, she nods, I hand her my card, and then I stuff my face.  This has been going on for perhaps two-ish years. The other night this sweet lady says “haven’t seen you in awhile”.  I smile and mutter something polite.

I drive away in horror and literally say out loud to myself, “Awesome! Perfect. The donut lady knows me. Perhaps I need to reevaluate some things.” Sigh.

Luckily I had a half dozen piping hot donuts sitting in the passengers seat that my roommates didn’t know about yet. I could eat my feelings via donuts while I contemplated if eating my feelings via donuts had gotten out of hand.

I’m not sure why but I always assume I’m incognito when I go into this shop or drive through…like they can’t actually make a firm identification of me.

In my sugar induced coma I contemplated which of my top 5 negative coping mechanism I should use.

  •  Denial? Stupid donut lady popped that bubble.
  •  Shopping? Can’t- cause I’m a social worker for a non-profit = no monies.  Plus- all the stores are closed and online shopping doesn’t have the same je ne sais quoi!
  •  Eat donuts? Already did that for this very issue. Hmmmm….don’t think it will work.
  • Make false exaggerated promise to self? No- already did that today and already ate the donuts.
  • Bring others down with me? Ding, Ding Ding! We have a winner, but I’m gonna need your help. You can try donuts from my top favorite Austin donut places.
    1. Mrs. Johnson’s Bakery…duh
    2. Little Lucy’s Donuts. They are adorable little mini doughnuts with an assortment of dipping sauces. Stick with the cinnamon and sugar   (Favor does deliver…just saying.)
    3. KC Donut Store in South Austin. There will be a line but it is ALWAYS worth it!
    4. Round Rock Donuts. They must be fresh though!
    5. Voodoo Donuts. Only because someone will make make the observation I didn’t put this on the list. They are good…but let’s just calm down with how good they are. Maybe I’m just a donut purist. I’m not impressed by the mound of cereal on top. I’m not Buddy the Elf. The 400+ calorie sugar coated  fried dough will do just fine on its own.

Now go embrace the flakey gooey goodness and sustenance of this fellow Swamp Mermaid.

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The Swamp Mermaid is Born

I am a Swamp Mermaid.

It all began because my best gal pal always referred to herself as a garbage human. Several months ago we stumbled upon this way cool salon called Swamp Mermaid and it was if a linguistic blessing descended from heaven and plopped into our brains. We are not garbage humans…We are swamp mermaids.  We didn’t have the language before but now we did.

Now, you should know that I’m all about knowing your self-worth and being able to acknowledge the lovely, intelligent, beautiful, and powerful woman I am. After all, I’m not in middle school anymore and post hoc hundreds of dollars and a handful of rueful therapist I did discover that…hey…maybe I’m pretty ok. Heck, I might even be fabulous.  A strong sense of self-worth though cannot be truly present without its buddy self-awareness.  This strong sense of self-awareness shines a very real light on that fact that despite my fabulousness I also have disgusting capabilities and in general can be a hot mess emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

So that is what being a swamp mermaid is all about! Embracing both your fabulous and mildly disgusting qualities. I am a beautiful mysterious mystical creature…I just might have to live in a swamp. Still confused?  Let me share some examples:

When you haven’t washed your hair in 5+ days and are out of dry shampoo, but the thought of showering is so horrendous you just lather on perfume and a hat = Swamp Mermaid

When you wear tights in the winter but your leg hair is so long it pokes out through your tights = Swamp Mermaid

When you drop popcorn down your shirt and crotch and unashamedly dig it out and pop it into your already overflowing mouth = Swamp Mermaid

When you Amazon PrimeNOW two gallons of ice cream, a bag of chocolate chips, and super plus tampons and answer the door with no bra just daring the poor amazon delivery person to judge you = Swamp Mermaid

When you have to face another baby shower/wedding shower and take a shot in the car alone before going in = Swamp Mermaid

When you can’t remember the last time you washed your go-to favorite beige bra (like babies have possibly been conceived and born) = Swamp Mermaid

When you say you are driving to the gym but instead go get beer and burgers = Swamp Mermaid

You get the idea. Right now you are probably feeling one of two things:

  • Horror. You are gagging at the thought that such people exist and wondering if I really have done all these things…yes. Yes I have and I’m mildly horrified as well.
  • Relief. You feel like you’ve found your people. Welcome friend. You have reached a judge free zone. Feel the embrace of the swamp sisters. Take off your bra. Slip on the stretchy pants. Be free.
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Swamp Food

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Is it just me or is it physically impossible to get full eating pancakes? I swear there are several foods I can eat and never get full. Pancakes are one of them. They have to be one of humankind’s greatest creations.

I don’t discriminate against any form of pancake. Flapjacks, griddle cakes, crepes, plain, fancy, sweet, savory…they all whisper to me sweetly and intoxicate me with their glorious carbohydrate goodness.

Do you know that most countries outside the U.S. find it excessive & gross that we enjoy stacks on stacks of pancakes? I’m all about embracing other cultures and cultural awareness/competency/proficiency but that fact alone evokes a weird compelling notion to yell ‘MERICA!

My favorite pancake of all the pancakes is from a nifty Austin gem called Pacha. They put two of my favorite things, bacon & cheese, into my favorite carb and I get to drizzle it in sticky sweetness and butter. Tell me you aren’t a little turned on right now.

Last Monday I was having a “working” aka “stare at all my e-mails” breakfast at Pacha before my therapy sesh and a miracle happened. The barista had an orphan mocha and I was magnanimous  enough to adopt it into my stomach for free. In the excitement of documenting such a magnificent occasion I got syrup all over my arm. Which lead to getting it in my hair, and finally on my winosaur t-shirt. I feel like there is only so much you can do to get rid of syrup. It’s contagious. So after licking it off my arm hair and doing my best to wipe the rest away I quickly headed to therapy.

winosaur

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Of course I arrive late to my therapy session because I always do. I CANNOT seem to get there on time. Maybe it is some subconscious avoidance of dealing with my swampiness but I really don’t want to pull at that string too much.  Any-who…I apparently just didn’t have much to say this week, so the last 5 minutes we had a staring contest. But see- I’m a social worker and the daughter of a therapist. I could win an Olympic gold medal for allowing silence.  It is how we Jedi-mind-trick you into baring your soul. BUT I HAD NOTHING TO SAY…it got awkward. I almost had to start making stuff up but then luckily she asked for payment.

At the end of the session you have to pay the therapist which is always weird considering you just told them such intimate stuff. I feel like I’m giving them hush money for what I just disclosed. Anyone else?

Well, I forgot my check-book and had no cash. Cards are not an option.  Whoops.

So… now I’m that client that:

  • Always shows up late
  • Wears a winosaur shirt
  • Leaves syrup on a throw pillow accidently
  • Awkwardly has a staring contest
  • Doesn’t pay you

Bet you she could use a delicious stack of Pacha pancakes and mocha with a shot right about now.