Veggie Pusher

I have a new friend in my life which, to my readers, means that there is a new character in my blogs.  I’ve never made a formal introduction of my friends in a blog before but I feel this gal merits one.  I mentioned to her that I wanted to write a blog post about her and she seemed uncomfortable with it and so I told her that I would not use her name.  She will be hence forth referred to as The Weirdo, Veggie Pusher, My Trainer, The Sadist and Alicia.

The Weirdo moved here back in February and I quickly related to her being new in a foreign place and the possibility of the move being temporary.  I know that feeling of having one foot in two different homes the aggravation of trying to learn a new “lingo,” the feeling of displacement and trying to rid that feeling by settling in but not getting rooted.  This quickly bonded us; that and being the mother of boys. 

Here’s about where the buck stops because shortly into getting to know her, I learned that she was once a personal trainer with a degree in nutrition and fitness.  I’m sure her degree has a fancier name than that but that gives you the gist.  She’s one of THOSE people.  She gets up and runs and bikes and does burpees for fun.  Honestly, I don’t think she really finds it fun but she gives exercise a high priority and so she’s very active.  On purpose.  Seriously.  She used to Roller Derby.  I started to have doubts about how we could maintain a relationship.  Also, she doesn’t drink wine.

“I really don’t know if we can carry on as friends, ” I told her.

“Of course we can,” she reasoned.  “Because you know that when I’m around, your wine is safe.  There’s more for you!”

This logic worked for me.  The Weirdo could stay.  I also thought this could be fabulous because she could train me and I’ll get into shape.  She loved the idea but warned that she’s not easy.  There is no whining.  Whining got you extra work.  I considered that because I do love a good bout of whining…I decided it would have to be internal because I certainly did not want to prolong my workouts.

A small group of us began to regularly meet with The Sadist.  We ran.  We did burpees.  We did lunges and squats and planks and all kinds of crazy stuff that I’m pretty sure was invented by the Nazis.  Seriously.  Some times she makes us run up a hill to grab a rock, bring the rock back down the hill and run up to get another.  We can bring back one rock each time until we have 20 rocks.  We then lunge to our rock pile to pick up one rock and do a side lunge to deposit the rock on the right and so forth on the left.  Of course we then have to put them back into one pile.  The Nazis did stuff like that!  Fact!  They would have the Jews move rocks around the camps for no purpose but to move rocks!  I, of course, can’t bring this up because it sounds a hint like whining and everyone yells at me and throws a few rocks in my direction because they don’t want to have to do extra lunges or something. 

When The Sadist and I go for coffee together or hang out with our families or attend a concert, we have a great time.  When we work out….I can hardly look at her.  I can’t stand her!  I resent every  bit of the work out and therefore her because she’s the one steering the boat.  We can’t really do anything together immediately after a work out because I need to decompress first.

She’s also been giving me some nutrition tips.  We have an app where I record what I eat and she can see it on her phone or computer. 

“You’re not eating enough calories,” she tells me.  “Where are the fruits and vegetables?” she asks.

“I had a glass of wine…” I point out that that has to count for at least one fruit serving.

Aside from that, I should explain why I refer to her as The Weirdo.  One morning she texts me that she has pygmy goats at her house if the boys and I want to come by to see them.

“You got goats?!” I asked.

“No.  I borrowed them.  They’re mowing the yard.”

“We’re coming over!”

“OK, but don’t scare the horse.”


Of course a horse.  He’s also part of The Weirdo’s yard service crew.  It’s actually pretty genius and I have now decided to borrow some neighboring livestock to mow my yard too.  But she doesn’t stop there….

“Today there is a donkey in my yard!” she text one day.  “Want to come ride it?”

“Are you asking me if I want to ride your ass?  You’re a weirdo and…OF COURSE I DO!”

One morning I arrived for a work out and her son was at her neighbors house trying to wrangle two calves.  My sons leaped out of the car with whoops and yee-haws to go and help their friend.  Apparently, they were house sitting for this neighbor and so the task of getting the calves corralled was theirs.  I informed The Sadist of the boy’s task.

“Well….guess what we’re doing for the first half of your work out?” she asked.

“Wrangle cows?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

“Wrangle cows.  But first you gotta run there for a warm up.”

As Jekyll and Hyde approaches I began to worry about the weight I gained on vacation and how that will translate on the stage and in photos. 

“They always make these posters of the shows and hang them in the hall of the theater.  They stay up for years!  I can’t have pics of my fat arms hanging in the theater for YEARS!”

“That’s a place where you store your fat,” My Trainer said.  “10 servings of vegetables.”


“Ten servings of vegetables a day.”

“This is your recommendation to rid my arms of fat?  That’s impossible!  If I ate 10 servings of veggies a day I wouldn’t have room for anything else!” I argued.


So I tried her way.  Half way through the day I text her that I’m starving.

“What have you eaten today?”

“Eggs for breakfast and then vegetable stir fry for lunch, a cucumber for a snack….some celery…”

“Where is the food?  You need more than JUST vegetables!”

“For crying out loud!  You told me to just eat veggies!”

“No.  I said to eat 10 servings of vegetables but that doesn’t mean that you don’t eat anything else.  You still need balance.  You still need protein.  The extra vegetable servings will replace snack foods.”

We had a BBQ.  I ate veggies.

“Do you see me eating this salad?” I asked, making sure to make a big show of eating a floret of broccoli.

“Very nice.”

The next morning I text The Veggie Pusher, Caren and Robby and asked if they wanted to join me for Bloody Mary’s at a local diner. 

“I’ve gotta get my veggie servings in,” I reminded them.

“If you think that’s a vegetable serving than we have a problem…” said The Veggie Pusher.

“It’s totally a vegetable serving!  It’s like V8.  Isn’t that actually 8 vegetable servings?”

We’re still arguing about that one.

Recently she sent me this:


“Now you get it!” I said.

I didn’t mention that The Veggie Pusher is from another land.  A land that has wonderful and different foods.  This land has Pickle flavored chips.  This is replacing my love and devotion for Lime Chips.

Recently, Man and I went to a concert with The Veggie Pusher and Her Man.  Our plan was to tailgate before hand.  We put together a simple menu.  The day of the concert The Veggie Pusher text to touch base.

“What else do I need for tonight besides the BBQ pulled pork and tickets?” she asked.

“Pickle Chips.”


“Well, damn woman, we have to have a veggie!”


“I have potato salad and I’ll bring a vegetable tray,” I said.

 “Great.  What about for after?  Something snack like…”

“Um…Pickle Chips?”

Can I also tell you that she threw a Bacon Party?!  That’s right.  A BACON party.  Basically, every dish brought to the party had to have bacon in it.  What kind of a nutritionist is that, I ask you?  It’s mean really because it just makes me feel like I have to work out harder.  She’s twisted I tell you!

Oh!  And the newest bit of hell that has been added to my regime is, again, due to Jekyll and Hyde.  Tuesday night we ran a number with singing and dancing and I was completely out of breath.  The music director asked if she could meet with me one morning during the week.

“Yes!  Tomorrow would be great!  That way I can get out of boot camp!”  I foolishly informed.

“Oh no…” smiled my director.  “You have to go to boot camp.”


“And you need to sing though it,” she advised.

Ugh!  I knew she was right.  I considered keeping that bit to myself but I also knew that it would do me no good.  I wasn’t going to sing through boot camp unless I told The Sadist.  If she knew than I was ensured reinforcement.  She kind of lives for new ways to make boot camp more horrific.  So I dutifully told her my music director’s request and The Sadist gleefully enforced this fresh new hell into my work out.

I hate when they’re right.  I hate that doing the right thing and the good thing for yourself is 98% of the time hard to do.

So this is the new friend in my life.  Geez…it doesn’t sound like I like her very much  but I do!  She’s a nut, yes, but I admire her tenacity and strength of mind and body.  We have so much fun together!  Our families fit so well together!  Plus….she has the Pickle Chips.





About buddyandbug

Man and I moved from Texas to Colorado with Buddy and Bug. This blog is a chronicle of our adventures as we deal with homesickness and adjust to Mountain Living. “If you are a dreamer,come in. If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, a hoper, a prayer, a magic-bean-buyer. If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire, for we have some flax-golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in!” ~ Shel Silverstein
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