Just when I think I’m turning into one of those well-balanced women with multiple talents, I realize I’m not. Case in point: to redecorate the kitchen, I have fed my family mac and cheese and pbj’s for weeks. Oh, and fast food. Lots of fast food. If Jamie Oliver was here in my kitchen, he’d be weeping copiously while piling mounds of corn dogs and cheeseburgers all ’round in great heaps.
I decided to turn over a new leaf the other night, after looking disgustedly at myself in the mirror for a while. Here’s the thing. You have your own comfort level, you know? And I don’t like the dimensions of my current shape. So I’ve decided to go on a diet. Kind of.
Being the youngest, I watched my mom and older siblings and sibs-in-law wander through every diet program known to man. I mean, South Beach, Cabbage Soup, Weight Watchers, Slim-Down Workshop, Slim-Fast, Atkins, etc. They did ’em all. Primarily I recall them chowing on multiple Weight Watchers frozen desserts in one sitting. “It’s a reward,” they’d say.
So I’m genetically predisposed to try and fail at diets. I’m not at that stage yet, though. Right now, I’m just focusing on trying to eat like an adult. And not so much the adult with the Playstation T-shirt and sweats, but more like the fit, responsible adult with a clean car.
Today I went to the grocery store with that goal in mind: buying meat, fruit, and vegetables. It was my first time at Costco and I was pretty intimidated. I mean, do I want 24 cans of pork-n-beans? I found myself standing in the middle of the aisle, frozen in indecision. On one hand, I need 5 pounds of sweet potato fries, I think. But 17 bucks seems like a lot. But it’s a lot of fries. So. Or salmon, do I need salmon? A lot of salmon?
So now I have some grownup groceries, and I want to eat Oreos. The upside is, a healthy subcutaneous layer will probably pay off in the end times when we’re all eating locusts and stuff.