Bread Cheese Brownie Wine

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 all the stars align all I really want is to enjoy myself. When I am depriving that quarterly craving to eat a pan of brownies I am not enjoying myself; when I deprive myself of anything I like I am not enjoying myself. Who says we have to be martyrs to the diet guru when we are happy and healthy and taking good care of our family?

Deprivation can be a tricky thing. Some call it will power. After a successful 60 day pasta fast I was proud of myself, although I almost broke down several times. But if I had truly felt at any time I was depriving myself rather than just exercising will power I would have done just what I did at the end of 60 days, and devoured a giant bowl of angel hair!

Hi, my name is SuperWoman and I love Bread, Cheese, Wine and Brownies. So what?

#onwardandupward

It was almost 4 months ago now. “The Breakup”. It felt life-shattering, irreversibly damaging, and as bad as any tragedy I had ever experienced. It was dramatic and traumatic. It was something out of a romance turned horror film. It started with a suspicion and ended on vacation. In a blur of nausea, starvation, and sobbing, I spent my last 48 hours in Puerto Vallarta in disbelief, thinking I might die of heartbreak. Four months later while I still feel a sense of loss (mainly of time) I also feel I have gained much more. Maybe it is what I re-gained. The opportunity to be me. The chance to smell roses and meander rather than constantly running. Regaining my self confidence, self control, self worth. Regaining my security. Rediscovering my love for the world and releasing my discontent. As a master of the “all or nothing” method of loving someone, I martyred myself for what I thought was the benefit of my relationship. I blinded myself from any possibility that it would not wor...

"A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it." -Oscar Wilde

The night trying too hard almost killed me. The evening started as a success. Thousands of dollars were being spent with each paddle's rise, benefitting a charter school on the island. On the microphone a local, well-liked politician energized the group with his beaming smile and rhythmic descriptions of items up for bid. Wine flowed endlessly, poured by the smiling staff hustling around the tent to ensure glasses remained full. Alcohol is a good fund-raising lubricant. The team of servers kept close watch on our table especially. At our table, their boss, my partner, was keeping close watch on the execution of this important evening. The auction ended and as we all dispersed from our seats to congratulate our table-neighbors on their winnings, my partner approached me quickly. His hand firmly grasped my empty arm (as the other was holding a wine glass) and he told me we were leaving. I was confused at first but as he began to describe the flaws in service he noted during the...

Last Call My Love

I have been there a hand full of times... having a great night out, beverages flowing and big smiles punctuated with glazed eyes all around me. Stumbling up to the bar my eyes squint with the realization the lights have just come on. "Last call!!" I am feeling an internal cocktail of relief and annoyance. Who are these people to say the party is over?? I protest, learning that once the lights are on, there is no bargaining. Somehow I make it home and fall asleep in my dress with one heel on. Before I know what happened my mascara is leaving its mark on my pillow. The next morning I vow never to drink again... until the next night like this one! While memories of mornings like these aren't my proudest moments, they highlight the universal truth that ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. Sure, the bartender just wanted to close his drawer for the night and go home or have his own fun - but what he really did was let us all know that we didn't need any more drinks. After recently processi...

Un-Balancing Act

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