Today's post is brought to you by: these shitty tasting carrot sticks I am currently eating.
I swear, I am the worst example of healthy living.
I kinda feel like it doesn't matter if you are one of those weirdo 100% vegan tree huggin' hemp wearin' hippies who only ingests organic mush 24-7 and hikes the Appalachian trail barefoot OR if you are one of those eat whatever, and drink and smoke whatever because only the good die young. There are tons of cases of 90+ year old women who drink wine and smoke because they have done so since prohibition ended. And old dudes who have coveted their special brand of scotch since the paleolithic era. They are perfectly pickled.
I'm sure that the "perfectly pickled" people (say that 5 times fast!) are somewhat of a medical mystery. They probably have been getting yelled at by their doctors for decades, and despite their wishes kept up with those pesky habits.
Why do I mention these things? Because now, now I am a mom, and well no longer 21 - my metabolism went in the shitter after the baby got here. I don't feel quite as foxy as I should, and I actually have to formulate a plan to lose some poundage, and remain somewhat "healthy". I really don't want to set a bad example for Adeline that will haunt her for the rest of her life. And for me diet plans always work better than heavy duty exercise routines. Running, and playing any sort of sport is laughable when I am involved. The only time you will see my ass running is if something is chasing me. And sports, well, I played softball for barely one season when I was 10, and that mostly consisted of me walking up to bat, getting nailed with the ball, and getting to walk to first base. I don't even like sweating. Seriously, I didn't even sweat when I had a baby...Not gonna say it was easy (oh wait, it was) but I just don't like sweating. Which reminds me, I need to get the hell out of GA.
So there ya have it. I am stuck somewhere in the middle of not wanting to become the vegan spokeswoman for PETA who climbed Mt.Everest...Twice... And not wanting to become that 103 year old perfectly pickled pain in the ass who will never die and leave my children their well deserved inheritance. What can I say, I want to have my steak and eat it too!