As I sit here blogging to you, there is a large-ish bowl of chocolate pudding (made from whole milk) topped with whipped cream and smattered with heath bar bits, resting, half eaten on the desk top. Don't judge me. Well, ok judge me but at least hear the whole (milk) tale of events.
I have a theory and it goes like this: I am going to die. Someday you will too. And while I have a love bordering on obsession for veggie subs, salads and *sigh* strawberries, I also LOVE fat. The bad kind. The really-really-really bad kind. The kind that makes you buy a carton of whip cream reading "now richer and creamier" instead of the one right next to it labeled "lite."
"Lite." Psshhh. Who wants that? That's for the people who actually managed to convince themselves that sugar and splenda are interchangeable--such people should be made to wear tinfoil hats & re-take the food pyramid section of health class. ---"Lite"....pffhh.
Anyway, as for this theory? It has a lot to do with enjoying the heck out of what you eat-fat, desserts, salads and all-- a lot to do with being a normal custodian of your body (there is the miracle of Zumba after all, and dance, and yoga and...) and absolutely nothing to do with guilt.
Side note: This theory may also have developed out of another personal love: cooking. Fresh ingredients, a myriad of color, a whirl of spices and oula! ...you have just created something from nothing (or i suppose, something from a lot of other, littler somethings, but whatever.)
So get off the couch (or chair, bed, floor, rug, jungle gym) switch on some tunes & boogie down while you make something incredibly delish, using whole milk and "richer, creamier" ingredients...and when the last bite has left your fork, find a little corner of active paradise that just might fool you into thinking you're having a party rather than exercising:)
Cheers: Gen
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