June 3, 2010
Yesterday afternoon, while I was walking the aisles of the grocery store, I made a very impulsive decision. I decided, with certainty, that I should eat a lot less dessert-type items--and in order to do so, from that point forward, I would only buy organic junk food.
The logic behind this move was twofold:
First, it's no secret that organic junk food is really freaking expensive. So I put two and two together and decided that maybe, if I spent $4.59 on a little package of cookies instead of $2.39 on a big ass box of cookies, the sheer cost would encourage me to savor three cookies instead of inhaling fifteen.
Second, we all know that organic foods are good. They're good for the babies, the dolphins, the song birds, the happy farmers who whistle in their fields, the Disney princesses, and so on and so forth. It all boils down to this--if organic foods are good and I think that I'm really good, I won't eat so much candy.
That makes sense, right? If not, read it again--because I swear, I'm a highly enlightened woman.
So, fifteen minutes and one $20 bill later, I left the store with two packages of Newman's Own sandwich cookies, a pint of chocolate flavored coconut-milk ice cream, some organic m&m knock-offs, and a new lease on life.
I'm not exactly sure what I was trying to accomplish with my sudden lifestyle shift, but I'm sure we can all agree that I was on my way to something excellent.
When I got into my car, I snatched up my iPod and silenced C&C Music Factory as fast as I possibly could. "This racket is not conducive to my new way of life," I thought, "so I will play some Indigo Girls instead. I bet they don't shave their armpits either."
And just for the record--I really want to shave my armpits, I'm just short on time these days.
When I got home, I laid my collection of organic junk food on the bar and went to get Jared. "See this," I commanded, "it's expensive, and organic, and it's mine. Don't touch any of it." And just to drive my point home, I wrote AMY across every single package in thick, black marker.
"Why'd you buy all that?" he asked.
I rolled my eyes, let out a sigh and used the most adolescent tone I could muster, "To change my life, Jared."
"Again? I think you try to change your life every day, Amy."
"Because I'm an exceptional person, Jared."
With that, he grabbed a can of coke, cracked it open and held it up to make a toast. "I'm gonna sit in my chair and watch some 24 reruns on Netflix. Just like I've been doing for the last five months."
"Well I think I'll use portion control, and self-love and sit here and eat one scoop of this high-fiber coconut-milk ice cream. And I'll probably think about God while I do it."
So I did. And it sucked.
So I jazzed up the ice cream with some of those organic cookies. Six to be exact.
It was okay, but it sure as hell didn't launch me into Nirvana or anything.
So I added some organic m&ms. Well, actually, all of the m&ms. Not bad, not bad at all.
Then I added half a cup of generic chocolate syrup--you know what I'm talking about.
I topped it off with three scoops of Edy's rocky road, and finally I had myself a sundae.