File Under H for Healthfood

I don't use the word 'ginormous' lightly.  In fact, I don't ever use it cause I don't like it.  But it is the only word I can come up with appropriate and accurate enough to describe the size of the big, fat reuben sandwich that just came out of my panini maker.  And I am going to eat every last gorgeous bite of it.

I saw a fitness tip written somewhere today that basically said if you aren't having the weight loss you want but are working out like a fiend, it could be because you are not taking in enough calories.  Well how about that.  So, either slow down on working out, or step it up in the eating department.  Sounds good to me.  I'm pretty sure that the idea is to eat healthy stuff like fruits, vegetables, whole grains, lean protein, etc.  But for some reason I think my body has gotten the wrong idea.

See, I love food.  I eat just about anything, I'm not picky.  There are certain things I purposely leave out of my diet, but it isn't because I don't like them.  In fact, there really isn't much I don't like.  Since I was little, I've always been easy with food...not like one of those kids who will only eat three things, and they're all...white, or breaded, or whatever.  No sir, not me.  So naturally as we get older, this could present a problem.  Metabolism slows down, life picks up.  We get busy with kids, jobs, life, and convenience foods get the better of us.  We gain weight and it gets harder and harder to lose it.  Hopefully we pick up a fitness program and stick to it.  I have, and I'm loving it.  I work really hard, and I feel good, and feel good about myself.  Maybe I work really hard so I can eat whatever I want.

Last night when I got home from the gym after an hour long workout it was already waaaay past dinnertime.  For so many reasons, after a workout I usually go for my recovery drink. Of course, I'm out of it.  I need the calories, and considering the time of day I don't want anything too heavy.  So instead of making another equally healthy choice, I go to the freezer and pull out the strawberry ice cream.  There's this little voice in my head asking what the heck do I think I'm doing, don't do that!  I shut the voice off and reach for the ice cream scoop. As the third pretty pink lump falls in bowl, my dear husband walks up.  His eyebrows go up as I drizzle the bowl with chocolate syrup, and his mouth hits the floor as I reach for the can of whipped cream.  He begins to comment on what I'm doing, and I simply tell him that he just better hope I keep working out.

Can we have ice cream for dinner?  Who am I to say no?  I'm just making sure I get enough calories to keep myself going.  So now I've got this big, fat reuben willing to help me out.  Musn't keep Reuben waiting!