I am a glutton, and I flounder around the emotions of guilt and rebellion, not sure if I want to hate myself for eating a good portion of the french bread before it hits the table for dinner or love myself because the only reason I care is the fact that some people say white food is bad. It's quite a feeling when you know the bread is fresh, you open the package and just tear off one little end, and then a little more, dragging it along the softened butter on it's way to your mouth. I mean it's REALLY good. We aren't talking about crystal meth here, but I can not help myself. The same goes for my regular afternoon pig outs of cheese followed by the evening flow of wine steadily from my fridge to my glass. Just a little Chardonnay really softens the remains of the day! It really is ok, despite what any one resource tries to tell us, to just enjoy what you like. Certainly I don't love the idea of constantly working out and worrying if my pants fit or not - but when