I consider myself a healthy person. I work out five days a week, I faithfully attend Bar Method classes on Monday and Wednesday nights, I eat oatmeal for breakfast, at least 5-7 servings of fruit and vegetables a day, pack my lunch for work, eat homecooked meals most nights of the week, and am constantly sipping water or green tea. I take my physical fitness and diet seriously, but I'm also one of those weird people who geniunely enjoys going for an eight mile run, and prefers eating fruits and vegetables to chips and crackers.
In other words, I should be one of those people everyone hates.
Operative word: Should.
While I do eat healthy most of the time (with the exception of meals out and some kitchen forays with bacon and risotto) and have the discipline of an athlete in the gym, I will never be featured in Shape or Self or Health magazine as an example of model behavior. Yes, I could probably be okay with going through life without those occasional pieces of bacon or bowls of macaroni and cheese, but I would never ever be able to overcome my sweet tooth.
When I read about women who only have dessert once a week, "enjoy" a bowl of strawberries after dinner, or eat one Hershey kiss a day, I feel genuine pain inside. How do they do it? I wonder, as I pull open my snack drawer and survey my loot of Chocolate Fling bars, chocolate-covered almonds, and, at the moment, a jumbo-sized Cadbury Scroggin bar (more on that later). The thought of pitching it all into the garbage or allowing myself just one taste every seven days is horrifying to me.
I am not pulling some stunt like those waif celebrities who mug with burgers for the paparrazzi cameras, when I say that I eat dessert everyday. I look forward to my after lunch treat (usually some sort of chocolate between 75 and 150 calories), love relaxing in front of the TV with my post-dinner bowl of Soy Creamy ice cream or chocolate pudding cup or chocolate ice cream bon bons, and am loathe to turn down dessert at a nice restaurant. I am in awe of women who are fine to live their lives without these small daily indulgences, but secretly glad that I am not one of them.
As such, when I received an e-mail from an editor at Citysearch a few weeks ago asking me if I would be interested in contributing to their new site, SugarBomber, I was thrilled. Not only because I would be able to do more of what I love (writing and eating), but because it gave me the perfect excuse to order every cupcake, cookie bar, bowl of ice cream, and blueberry crumble that I covet -- without feeling guilty about spending the money or ingesting hundreds of empty sugar calories.
My new status as a SugarBomber dictator made it completely acceptable to order both the peanut butter & jelly bar and lemon bar at Joan's on Third when I visited the cafe/bakery a few weeks ago. When my friend Ashley and I were at Pizzeria Mozza two weekends ago, I didn't even hesitate to order us the banana gelato pie. And that following Sunday, I made a special trip back to Huckleberry Cafe in Santa Monica for the explicit purpose of buying a salted caramel in the name of "research."
Nutritionists and physical trainers would shudder at my recent behavior, but these past few weeks of over-the-top indulgences have been a blast. I am cognizant that at some point I'm going to need to adhere to a three (or four... or five) bite rule when ingesting these sweets in order to keep my butt from jiggling when I walk, but for now, I'm having fun being a bit reckless. Even if it does mean foregoing that nightly glass of wine or that strip of extra crispy Applewood bacon.