I have spent most of my adult life HATING sushi. Any time I tried it, I was reminded of the Dania fishing pier near my hometown in South Florida. The place was an old wooden pier that reeked of cheap beer, bait, and fish. My friends and I would swim at the beach near the pier, and I would never fail to get smacked in the mouth with seaweed filled waves. My eyes would burn from the salt water, and of course some of the wave would manage to get in my mouth. The taste was like rancid spinach and saline solution. For many years, sushi was a combination of face-smacking waves and bait to me.
And yes, sushi lovers, I tried sushi EVERYWHERE: the mid-west, where I live now, California, Hawaii, and Florida. And yes, I tried the California roll EVERYWHERE. I hated that, too. The worst thing I ever tried is called “toast and jam.” It’s raw fish on rice. I had to spit that out.
So, you can imagine how thrilled I was when my son wanted to go to a fast food sushi place for his birthday. Couldn’t the kid pick a fancy steak house or Italian place like a normal teen? Well, it’s a good thing he chose Fusian because last Saturday, my opinion of sushi changed forever.
Here’s the thing about Fusian. You can create your own roll. It’s like Chipotle for sushi. Plus, they have two kinds of wraps, traditional seaweed (barf!) or soy. Hello, sushi without the ocean after taste. They also have a variety of meat and veggie fillings. No more bait scented fish only options. I had a soy wrap, STEAK, veggies and sweet chili sauce. And it was SO GOOD. Just for fun, we also tried a peanut butter and jelly roll on soy. That was awesome, too.
So, I don’t know if they have Fusian where you live, but if they do, go try it. Even if the thought of sushi gives you the urge to vomit or go fishing, I promise you will like sushi at this place. And no, they are not paying me to write this. Like all chubby girls, I just get super excited about food.
I try to spend 25 minutes every day with Mr. Dark and Handsome. I would do more, but that is about what fits in my schedule. It’s OK. My husband knows about him. I have even asked him to join us since it would be really good exercise, but he thinks that kind of thing is just silly. I disagree. There’s no reason why I should be the only one to benefit from this kind of physical activity.
Wait. Hold on. I’m not talking about a Craig’s List connection here. I’m talking about my imaginary personal trainer, Gilad. He comes into my living room every morning, and brings 4 assistants and a beautiful view of Hawaii. One time, he even had his mom on the show. She looked great, but Mama G didn’t attempt the little unitard and tights ensemble that the other females were wearing. This was an episode from 2004, back when people still wore these things to exercise classes. Oh, wait; that was 1985. At least, the Gilad girls don’t wear leg warmers. The token other guy in the class doesn’t either. Anyway, Mama Gilad had baggy pants and a Gilad t-shirt on. I can respect that, and relate.
As I mentioned, Gilad is nice to look at, for the most part, especially given the fact that he is 17 years older than me. Those of you doing the math at home, that would make him 44. Yes, I’m sure. Because I’m 27, that’s why. What teenaged son? Hush.
Anyway, he is pretty, aside from that unfortunate helmet hair, which he no doubt inherited from his mom. Gilad’s accent can be distracting, though, and I don’t imagine us talking about anything deeper than bun muscles. Just a feeling I have. So, I can’t really add him to the fake boyfriend list, See fake BF blog , but he is definitely the best imaginary personal trainer I have ever had, and the only male one.
Those of you who have seen me lately are thinking, “Wow, either your personal trainer sucks, or you must have a case of Twinkies hidden in your pantry.” It’s OK. I think the same thing whenever I see that woman with bad hair, bags under her eyes and a fat suit in the mirror. I really thought it when I saw that one HORRIBLE picture of me from a recent work function. However, I JUST STARTED working out with Gilad. Give me a couple of months and I will be halfway in shape just in time for swimsuit season to end. Uh huh. I’ve got this all planned out.
So, if you would like to borrow my personal trainer, just set your DVR to record his show on Fit TV, or whatever channel that is. You can just search for him on your cable guide, or the Internet. You could also buy his DVD’s, but who does that with all of this live streaming stuff happening. It’s not like it’s 2004 anymore.
There is a reason why I will never be skinny or make it as a contestant on the Bachelor. I like to eat. If I go for more than a few hours without eating, I need to be unconscious or I will get HUNGRY. By hungry, I mean that I will harm you if you are standing between me and food.
Over the years, I have heard about people who forget to eat. I envy these people. I plan meals days ahead of time. I have decided what I’m having for breakfast tomorrow (egg whites and spinach). I have never, ever forgotten to eat.
Then, there are those people who don’t really like to eat. Barry Manilow was on the Martha Stewart show a few years ago when he admitted to being one of these people. He let Martha make him a sandwich, after she pestered him about eating something. Martha Stewart. A sandwich? No wonder he is skinny. I envy people who do not enjoy food.
This is why I don’t DO fasting blood work well (and I will probably struggle with that upcoming “prep” but I will try not to write about that). After 12 hours without eating, I could probably bite someone without ingesting “bath salts” first. I really thought I was going to pass out and starve to death yesterday morning.
I PURPOSELY made my appointment for 7:00 AM. Yes, my doctor’s office is open at 7, which makes me kind of sad and kind of happy. It was still dark when I got there, which made the lack of coffee worse. I was armed with a cereal bar in my purse, and plans to hit a McDonald’s drive through. I assumed that they would draw my blood immediately, and then I could scarf down my cereal bar before the “physical” portion of my appointment. I was wrong.
You see, as the medical assistant explained, they like to have the doctor do the examination first so they can be sure that they are doing the proper blood tests. That makes perfect sense to me now that I am not starving to death. Yesterday morning at 7:05, that horrified me. The eating would be delayed. NO!
OK. OK. I calmed myself down. I told myself that the children in Iraq were crying for me, and that I should just “buck up.” So, the doctor came in and started flipping though my chart and asking me questions. These weren’t any old questions. They involved numbers. Honestly, I am surprised she didn’t add drug test to my list of blood work as I could barely form complete sentences.
Sometime during this questioning, it was determined that I should have an EKG. OK. This would delay my McDonald’s drive through, but I could probably eat my cereal bar DURING the EKG. Because OF COURSE they will draw my blood first, right?
NOPE. They did the EKG first. It’s a good thing I had to lay down for that because I was getting woozy at this point. Is woozy even a real word? Anyway, the EKG seemed to take forever. When that was done, finally, finally, I got to sit in the special chair and get the needle in my arm.
That is when I noticed the 4 empty tubes. Really, 4 tubes of blood now? I started having visions of me passing out due to low blood sugar on my way to my car. I envisioned being robbed, kidnapped, or legitimately raped. You name it. I was never going to survive this doctor’s visit.
At this point, I mentioned the cereal bar. I had to give the woman fair warning that she was standing between food and me. To be honest, I don’t even like cereal bars, but I didn’t think that scrambled eggs would travel well. The medical assistant apologized for not doing the blood work before the EKG. Duh! As soon as she got the bandage on my arm, that cereal bar was in my mouth. It was after 8 by this time. I am lucky to be alive.