We need to have a talk. THE talk.
You see, when a man and a woman love each other and are in a caring, committed relationship.
Sometimes…they do things. For each other. With each other. To each other.
Special things.
A recurring theme on The Biggest Loser (and, I’m sure, other weight loss reality tv shows) is that most of the participants will tell you that they never realized just how fat they were. They knew they were large, and they weren’t happy at their weight, but they just assumed they were “big boned”. The number on the scale during that first weigh in is usually a shock to them. Because they felt lighter than they actually were.
And then you have me.
I actually truly believe I am one of those people who weigh more than they look. And I know it’s due to muscle, which isn’t something I should feel bad about. It’s something I should embrace, in fact.
But I feel what the scale tells me. I feel every ounce.
A healthy lunch and a way to appease your mother’s desire for you to be “more Italian”? This quinoa, fennel and pomegranate salad does it all. For the recipe, check out my post on Marcus Samuelsson’s blog!
I am submitting this to Souper Sundays hosted by Deb of Kahakai Kitchen.
You are reading this post on Eats Well With Others at https://joanne-eatswellwithothers.com. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the author and or owner of Eats Well With Others. All rights reserved by Joanne Bruno.
We may live in a democracy with equal rights and all, but I just think you should know that no matter what Thomas Jefferson wrote in the Declaration of Independence, all green goddess dressings are not created equal.
Sure, they’re all green, but so is pistachio ice cream. Which, though amazingly delicious, is certainly not health food.
(Moral of the story. You should never judge a condiment by its verdant hue.)
The thing about waking up in the morning once to the smell of lemon and rosemary and deliciously sweet dough baking in your oven.
Is that it’s habit forming.
All of a sudden, you can’t sleep because you know that you’re going to arise to boring old stale air.
You can’t dream, because you’re just completely preoccupied with the thought of all that stale air infiltrating your lungs and pervading your mind and blowing away the memory of the lemon-rosemary-heaven scent.
And you can’t wake up because what is there to live for, really, if these sticky buns aren’t going to be waiting for you on your counter in all their lemony-sweet glory?
“I can’t. Sorry. Bad timing.”
Those are the three incomplete sentences that the last boy I dated (yes, back in October. there’s no shame in celibacy.) texted to me seemingly out of nowhere on one truly absurd Monday night. And I am ashamed to say that I, myself, was forced to plagiarize them last week.
It was both a grammatically and ethically unsound move. But it had to happen. Dire times, you know.
I said them as I took my collection of baking chips and put them on the highest shelf in our apartment (the one that I risk spinal cord injury every time I have to scale two chairs to get to the top of it. If that’s not a deterrent…nothing will be). I said them as I rid my freezer of all the leftover frostings and icings and cookie doughs that I had stored throughout the past year. I said them as I told the head of my lab that I will no longer be working on characterizing genes that other people discovered and that have absolutely no function in insulin signaling in adipocytes, no matter how many ridiculous nanomoles of siRNA or completely non-physiological micromoles of insulin these other labs choose to throw at them. (Actually, I think what I really told him was that I renounce them. It sounded more official and less emo-teen-girl-drama. He, um. Laughed.)
(And yes. I’m still working on them.)
And then I said them to my laundry hamper full of clean clothing as I laced up my sneakers and headed out the door for a run. Priorities. Besides, who really needs unwrinkled clean underwear, anyway?
Welcome to Eats Well With Others, where we take a vegetable-and-cupcake laden approach to life (always with a bit of laughter on the side)!
Summer
