I may have mentioned previously that I am not a skinny gal. It’s a battle I continue to fight: at times my efforts are pretty hardcore.
Like now, for instance.
A working mom’s best friends are sometimes drive-thru windows and at least partially pre-packaged meals at least once or twice a week.
Not an option. I have a very limited diet and need to prepare my own meals. It sucks.
What becomes harder? Walking into the house and preparing a meal that will feed me and making additional options for everyone else…far tastier options.
It’s not just the cooking. It’s the dang dishes and the clean-up. It is a giant pain in the hooey.
What I need is a personal chef and housekeeper. For that matter, a personal trainer would not run amiss.
But if I had those things, I also probably wouldn’t need to work the hours I do, etc., etc.
Ah well. Night 3 of home-cooking included cooked cabbage. Not the tastiest item, especially without lots of butter and salt. My family’s option included pasta, which I can’t have.
I’m not bitter, not really. I ignored my daughter’s comments about my soggy lettuce. I tried not to smell the delicious carbs. I ignored my husband’s pitying look. I am eating what I should and hopefully it will lead to better things.
That said? The lovely cabbage smell? The kind of smell that sneaks up on you in hallways of random apartment buildings?
Yeah, they won’t be running away from that anytime soon.