I'm sorry m'am. Didn't see you there. I just thought you were a really, really big pastry. (Or: Why I'm going back to executive

So I’m trying to go back on this vegan thing. Remember when I was doing the Eat to Live cleanse? I ate whole cantaloupes for breakfast? Iput ground flax on everything? Of course you remember. How could you forget all of the minute details of my life that I parcel out to you on here. We are besties after all.
 
Did you not know I quit that vegan thing a while ago? Did you not know I gracefully took a break from that vegan thing a while ago? To be fair, it was a slow decline into (or out of, depending on your perspective)madness.
 
I was so good.
 
Then I got married. And I ate cake. It had buttercream frosting and was made with real eggs and butter. (I took one look at it and told the veganism to kiss my ass.) 
 
Then, on the honeymoon, I ate seafood. Why? Because they were catching it right in front of my face. I said, “Shit, that’s fresh.” And I ate a lot of it. Oh. And I also had a Jamaican Coffee every morning. (For those of you who don’t day drink/haven’t been to the Caribbean [because they’re the same thing], Jamaican coffee is like 20% coffee, 20% dairy, and 60% rum. And it is by far the best way I’ve ever gotten sauced before 10 AM.)
 
Then we came home from the honeymoon and I rediscovered my love of tacos. Beef tacos. (If it’s ground up and no longer resembles beef, it doesn’t count as meat.) I still think that tacos should be the official national food. Because I’m multicultural. And because they’re f*cking awesome. Oh, and what tacos are complete without an appetizer of queso. But I justified this by insisting pointing out that it’s can't be “real” cheese. (Truly, I can justify anything.)
 
Then my grandma came to help out with my dad. She’s an amazing cook. She made the following:
-          Party Chicken – This is chicken that has been wrapped in bacon and layered atop chip beef, covered in sour cream and cream of chicken soup and then baked. BEST. THING. EVER.
-          Roasted Pork Tenderloin with a Gorgonzola Cheese Sauce – This is the double threat. Meat. Covered in melted cheese. Foodgasmic, I tell you. Foodgasmic. (It's ok, militant vegans, you can fall over and die now from desire. We all know you want to.)
-          Italian Beef – Just like they make in Chicago. On a hoagie, covered in melted swiss cheese.
-          Bacon and Eggs – OMG

Ok. So I’m a terrible vegan. What do you want from me? There is no joy without cheese. 

But I’m doing this cleanse again because I’m tired of the circulation to my brain being cut off every time I bend over because my pants are too tight. That, and I hate my muffin top. What’s a muffin top? I refer you to this pictorial representation.

Figure 1:
 
My muffin top is bad, kittens. Bad. And I want it gone. So I’m back to eating 5 lbs. of vegetables a day. 
 
...Sort of. 

Here’s what the good Dr. Fuhrman of the Eat to Live Cleanse prescribes for every day consumption:

-          Absolutely no meat ever.
-          Raw vegetables – UNLIMITED. Salads should be staples. And you should eat a lot.
-          Cooked vegetables – unlimited quantities, such as green veggies, eggplant, peppers, tomatoes
-          Mushrooms every day.
-          Beans – at least 1 full cup a day
-          Fruits – at least 4 servings daily.
-          No dairy whatsoever.
-          No more than 1 cup daily of starchy vegetables
-          Nuts and nut butters – no more than 1 oz per day
-          Avocado – no more than 2 oz per day
-          1 tablespoon of ground flax seed every day. Mandatory.
-          Oils – no more than 1 teaspoon per day

Sounds fun, huh? Of course not! You could give this diet to a freakin' bunny and he'd say to you, "Bitch, please.  I ain't eating all that roughage." (This is, of course, assuming that you had a particularly profane rabbit. Which isn't  hard to find. Rabbits have potty mouths. Everyone knows that.)

So, as I no longer have the motivation of the giant taffeta sausage casing that was my wedding dress that I had to look good in/be able to zip, I’m adjusting my expectations a little. I feel like if I do 90%, I’ll be doing ok. Here’s how my version of selective veganism will probably look. 

-          I will not eat meat. Unless it’s shrimp. Or we’re at San Antonio Taco Co. (Taco meat doesn’t count, remember?) Or I’ve had a really bad day and the only thing that will cure it is a Hawaiian pizza from Mellow Mushroom. (But there’s pineapple on it. So that cancels out the meat. So really it’s just a cheese pizza.)

-          I will eat lots of raw veggies. Like carrots. And salad. 

-          I will not eat eggplant as it is the devil’s vegetable. The other stuff can stay. Although does it count if I cover the broccoli in General Tso’s sauce? Nevermind. Of course it does. 

-          Mushrooms every day. F*ck that. 

-          1 cup of beans every day. Does hummus count? It has to. How else will I choke down my raw carrots?

-          4 servings a fruit a day. No problem whatsoever. Why, just last night I drizzled some vegan chocolate on strawberries. What? That doesn’t count? This diet is bush league.

-          No dairy whatsoever. But there is no joy without cheese! Ok. Fine. No dairy whatsoever. Except for pizza. And the goat cheese that goes on my salad. And Cheese dip from San Antonio Taco Co. Because it’s not real cheese, remember? 

-          No more than 1 cup daily of starchy vegetables. I never liked white potatoes anyways. Unless they’re fried. So does this mean I can have 1 cup of tator tots per day? This diet may not be so bad after all. 

-          Nuts and nut butters – no more than 1 oz per day. Pssh. Like that’s going to happen. If I’m supposed to eat 4 fruits per day and the only fruits I can afford are apples and bananas, I’m gonna need some peanut butter. On all 4. Because I am a child. 

-          Avocado – no more than 2 oz per day. This diet is horse shit. 

-          1 tablespoon of ground flax seed every day.  Ok, fine. I’ll put some flax on all the things. 

-          Oils - no more than 1 teaspoon a day. Who need’s ‘em? But if we go out for Italian, I WILL be dipping my bread. Make no mistake about that. What? I can’t have bread? Suck it, Dr. Fuhrman. 

Ok, I get it. 

Worst. Vegan. Ever. 

But I’m trying, right? That’s got to count for something! And we’re joining the YMCA so that I can swim and do yoga and go to spin classes and say that I belong to a gym. Although, being a member of a gym can sometimes make you feel worse about yourself. And no, I’m not talking about those skinny bitches in your aerobics class.

I’m talking about those Tuesdays when you decide that you shouldn’t go to the gym because it’s raining and what if you slip in the parking lot in a slick puddle and die or your tennis shoes get water logged and then you sweat in them for an hour at Zumba and get trench foot or the rain turns into a tornado that hits the building and you are killed by taking a windblown elliptical machine to the face. (I paint in extremes, remember?)

While all of your excuses are perfectly valid on that rainy day for not going, you still feel really bad about yourself for paying $50 a month for the gym when Mother Nature won’t even let you go. You feel horrible. But not horrible enough to put down the Cheetos and turn off the Gossip Girl marathon. That would be ridiculous. We’re health-nuts, not Nazis. 

Given that I will be (mostly) giving up  cheese, chocolate, meat, and joy, things could get pretty interesting around here. Toss in an increasingly hostile uterus and you have a recipe for some amazing and filter-less posts. (Speaking of which, I’m thinking that my hostile uterus should get its own Facebook page, where it can be friends with Colonel Meow and I can write condescending things on its wall like, “At least you’re not tilted, mother f*cker.”)


(Note: If I really do create such a Facebook page, my mother will disown me, my father will throw up, Carter will slap his forehead with the palm of his hand in exasperation, Kara will say “This is why we can’t have nice things,” and Lola will try to stuff herself under the couch. Actually, scratch that. In addition to the above, they will all disown me. And Lola will never bring me her whale again. Which is the more serious? If you knew anything about it at all, you’d know that the answer is whale. Obvi.)

Happy Wednesday, y’all! 

(Except for you, uterus. You can go to hell)

(I promise, this is the last time I will use the word “uterus” in a post for at least 10 days.)

(Ok, maybe 7. This is the last time I will use that word for at least 7 days.)

(Ok. I’m being realistic. 2 days. That’s all I’ve got.)

(Is this why we can’t have nice things?) 


Katie

Nested

http://nested1.blogspot.com/

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