Ohh, chello there. Happy warmer weather days, Happy Easter, Happy Passover, Happy bunny and chocolate eating. Is it just me, or do Reese's Peanut Butter Cups taste better shaped as an egg? They do, I don't know why I asked. We have entered into my second favorite time of the year.
This past weekend, after many hours of St. Patty's Day fun, I came to the realization that sometimes I really hate my body. My feet were tired, my mind was happy, and if I'm being honest, I was a little bit tipsy. We sat down in a restaurant and I watched some of my friends share a deliciously cheesy pizza and another friend eat a yummy looking sandwich on fluffy, fluffy bread.
I've always longed to be the type of woman who spends her mornings out back in her garden, dirt plastered under her fingernails. The type of woman who makes soups and stews from all her own vegetables. But, in reality, I'm not.
Last week I finished thirty days of the most intense discipline I never thought I could handle. I went thirty days without tasting the yummiest things on earth: no sugar, grains, dairy, beans, soy, corn, alcohol. And guess what? I did it!