What am I supposed to do when I come home and I am confronted with this work of art. Damn her, she knows my weakness. . . anything she cooks. I'm a very lucky man to have a girl that loves to cook and bake. Sparky twitching involuntarily, kitty dreaming. Probably suffering PTSD from the beating he took this morning after eating a nights worth of knitting.
Looks like some kind of blueberry cake. Was as tasty as it looks. I try and keep my shit in check, but I'm convinced, she likes me fat and happy. For the most part, we try and eat healthy. However sometimes cravings win out. I've had a taste for ribs for at least a few months and finally gave in and tried a rib joint near our place. Was happy I did.
It's strange to think of the relationship that we have with food. It's not always healthy. How many times have I found myself eating my feelings. It's not right. Sometimes, I just want to do some damage on myself. . . . like nachos and cheese dip. Yum. I try and stay away from empty calories and processed sugars. That doesn't always work out. I have a weakness for the sour Jelly Belly's and just about any cookie Polly bakes.
There was a time, a year ago, when I had much better self discipline, I wasn't making any exceptions with regard to calories. Wasn't drinking hardly any alcohol and was on a strict NO COOKIE diet. I was going to the gym more regularly and simply, was in better shape. I've let things slide enough. Gonna get back with the program. . . . as soon as the blueberry cake is gone. . . I swear it. . . . no really. . .
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