Monday, January 14, 2013

The Pleasures of Oatmeal



             I decided to begin the New Year with a healthier attitude towards diet and exercise. See, I hate exercise. I am basically a very lazy girl who was cheated genetically with the metabolism of a sloth. Other people seem to be able to down large amounts of wonderful, decadent, calorie laden food while still staying lean. I, however, am engaged in a constant battle with the zipper on my jeans.  

                My idea of a perfect meal begins with a cupcake as an appetizer. Previously, when I have committed to the “battle of the bulge” I would simply stop eating food along with the large amount of sugar I consume. I don’t care about food. I don’t overindulge on food. A pork chop does not excite me. I could go endless years without a potato.  Seriously, aren’t vegetables something you drown in ranch dressing? Food just isn’t an issue for me.  Unless… it is covered in sugar. Then I could easily overdose on a sugar high. I love cake for breakfast. I need to satisfy my sweet tooth with confections covered in chocolate. I adore skipping the lunch segment of lunch and jumping right into the hot fudge sundae portion. I think that cookies prove that there are many different kinds of heaven.

                But I really do want to live to a ripe old age with multitudes of grandbabies bouncing on my knee. I also want to be active well into my golden years and experience life without the aid of insulin and scooter chairs. I have decided, like many of you, that I will embrace a healthier lifestyle. I have committed to a regime of healthy living with nutritious food and daily exercise. I can’t say it has been easy, but I was diligent these last few weeks and have successfully stuck with the program. I had mostly convinced myself that I wasn’t even missing the sinfully pagan ways of my sugar loving old self,  until my husband woke me from a deliriously happy dream last night. He said I was moaning a sexy little moan and was wondering if maybe I was dreaming of him. I smiled a sleepy smile, trying to slip back into my delectable dream, and replied much to his disappointment, that I wasn’t dreaming of him; I was dreaming of oatmeal. Yup, oatmeal. 

                It wasn’t any old oatmeal though. The oatmeal of my dreams was covered in mounds and mounds of brown sugar. I guess I really can't fault my sinful, pagan, sugar loving old self, at least it added oatmeal to the wonderful gooeyness of warm, melted, gobs of golden brown sugar!

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