Unhealthy Addictions

What is thick, dense, and soft?
No…I was not hinting at my body image....it’s the way I like my chocolate chip cookies!
I thought I would share the "love" by giving you my recipe below.


The Bulging Hips Chocolate Chip Cookie

1 C Dark brown sugar
1 C butter flavored Crisco
½ C Sugar

Mix well.

Add: 2 eggs
1 tsp. Vanilla
1 tsp. Soda
½ tsp. Salt

Beat well. Then add:

2 ½ C flour
1-2 C Chocolate Chips

Bake at 350 for 9 min.

*Remember cooking time will vary depending on the elevation. If you add too much flour—compensate by adding a little bit of applesauce.

If you want to turn the cookie batch into the Mile Wide Thunder Thigh recipe, then add mini m&m’s, walnut gems, and chocolate chunks. (Come on, be honest, didn’t you just feel your jeans pop out a few inches? That’s why I named it appropriately.)

AND THAT ladies, is the formula for destruction.
Use it wisely.

Those who know me well, know that my weakness and favorite thing is a chocolate chip cookie. I like em’ Texas style—which means bigger. Have you ever found a recipe that you just love? I am the kind of person who is too afraid to ask someone for a recipe. I wonder if it’s rude or impolite, but to me, it’s a compliment. Still, I don’t dare ask because you never know what the reception will be.

The recipe above is super yummy! But here are a few tips.

TIP #1-- Use really good chocolate chips. The more expensive the chocolate chip bag, the better tasting your cookie will be. Cheap chocolate chips are waxy. Honestly, go buy an expensive bag vs. the cheap bag. You’ll notice the difference. I think it adds to the overall goodness of the cookie.

TIP #2—Don't nuke your butter! In recipes that call for butter, don’t microwave it. When you melt your butter to a liquid, the batter doesn’t have the correct “thickness.” (I consider myself a cookie cookin’ pro! I got my doctorate degree at allrecpies.com—my hips graduated with honors :)

For myself, there is just something so empowering about a cookie. When I make a batch, I feel like I can conquer the world!! (I don’t think the counselor in my head is working…)
A cookie makes everyone in my household happier. My kids will do ALL their chores, and then some—just for a single cookie.

Bribery is not beneath me, and I admit, I use the technique often to get them to clean and to avoid fights. Hmmmm - - - That is probably why I make so many batches…

Actually, to tell you the truth, there’s this love/hate relationship going on.

Truly, there is a physical struggle between me, my hand, and a chocolate chip cookie. My mind is saying “no” my mouth is saying, “Bring it on, baby! Bite me!” The hand holding the cookie is trying to decide who will win—and it’s going back and forth during the battle of “Yes” “No” “Yes” “NO!”

It looks like I’m having a convulsion.

I tell you, when I pull out that first batch of warm cookies, the inviting aroma fills the kitchen and I gravitate to it like a bear to a trashcan. (I know, you’re scratching your head at my analogy. I’m just so tired of over-used analogies like “bee to a flower” or “moth to the flames”….yeah, ‘props’ to me for the invention of a never-been-used-before analogy.)

My husband has a severe case of “sweet tooth.” (He’d shoot it into his veins if chocolate could be administered by IV to get into his system faster.) He is always in the kitchen making something. In fact, this is what a typical week at our house looks like.

Monday: cookies. Tuesday: homemade ice cream. Wednesday: brownies. Thursday: a treat from the store. Friday: cookies again. Saturday: $.25 ice cream cones at Artic Circle.
Sunday: Open for suggestions now that I’m 10 pounds heavier. If I add another 5 pounds, I can have built-in drink holders installed in the cushion between my hips.

Cookies are yummy, HEaVeNLy. However, cookies don’t love me as much as I love them. They play havoc with my weight. Occasionally it will sneak up on me and suddenly…..

It doesn’t matter where I am in the house when my husband is making something delicious. My head immediately jerks up…like a shark…smelling blood…in un-chlorinated water…(Ah, come on. I’m on a roll for bad analogies tonight.) And I will swim—wait—Zoom like a roadrunner to the kitchen when my husband pulls out a batch of whatever goodie he’s making. I actually don’t care what it is--my nose has developed a “super hero” sense of smell and I go dashing (or dancing, or frolicking all the way….)

Actually—the dancing or prancing part depends. It alternates according to my moods. As Jordan pointed out, if it’s that 'GREAT BEAST OF THE MONTH' time, (Jordan's picture kindly inserted below,) I stomp into the kitchen, demand the entire sheet of cookies, promising severe harm to any unfortunate who tries to stop me. Then I depart, cookie sheet in hand, leaving the kitchen like a bad ‘cookie monster’ outlaw—guaranteeing I’ll add another 7 pounds to my hips, but don’t tell me that at the time, I just might bite your head off and call it good eatin’.

(The Great Beast of The Month story HERE.)

Okay—so my weakness is cookies. Big deal, right?

My hips say otherwise. The cottage cheese on my backside screams every time I plant my buttocks down in any given chair and suffocate the heck out of the cells pumping blood through the veins. Maybe that’s why people pass gas….maybe it’s because their butt is losing its oxygen supply, and when you stand…..WHEW!

Or like on a Sunday when you’ve been lazy all day, pigging out on cookies and junk food and you suddenly have to get up—like running for the phone—and every step you take, “pfft, Pfft, PFFT, CABOOM!” (My mom calls it the ‘walking farts.’)
Maybe it’s the backside panting, due to a sudden burst of exertion because you’ve indulged in cookies all day.

I have a hunch that I’m not going to get very many comments to my post this time…

Sorry ladies, I wrote this post late at night, very late, and my hands and sleepy brain were taking over like….like an invasion of Ambien-induced alien sheep. (These are such crappy analogies. I’m suffering right along with you.)

However, I still dream about my long-lost “teenager” body. (I look south—the area between my belly button and my chin. Everything is so….so…floppy. *sigh*) What happened? I had this dream in my head of how I would be, how I would look when I reached this milestone in my life. However, my hips seem to be writing their own epitaph.

Here lies Camryn’s younger years
Her teenage bod has disappeared.
The bod bit the dust thanks to cookies and scones,
Now just look at those hips—did they just groan?


My loveable hips are quite self-sustaining at this point. Who needs food storage when I could live off the fat stores from my hips for a decade?

Remember ladies, it’s about control. If you’re not careful you may end up like me—addicted. And, hiding out…