tales of a monday evening

Monday at 7pm seems to be tv's magical hour, wouldn't you say?
The Bachelor
Biggest Loser
How I Met Your Mother

So tough to decide. Feelings get hurt.
The hubby is especially not happy when the decision each week is usually to watch the Bachelor.
So tonight, a compromise was made.

Andy could play Halo with his friends from 4p-6p.
We would eat dinner at 6p.
Andy would do the dishes.
Rachel would watch the Bachelor (by herself!! this is part of the condition as Andy usually mocks relentlessly during this show) while Andy does homework.
Then Andy would be allowed to play Halo again until we go to bed.

We are such a fantastically compromising couple, wouldn't you say?

This left me about two hours to meander around the apartment while Andy used the xbox.

I shut myself into the second bedroom in order to mute the profanity that always follows Halo playing  and I bring along my new favorite drink-- lemon, ginger, mint, and cucumber sure taste delicious and fresh together! I know that people saying it's a huge detox is most likely a complete scam but I care not. I'm trying to find a substitute for my diet coke addiction-- and pull up netflix with the intention of watching another episode of Downton Abbey (I'm hopelessly behind and it's something Andy would never watch so I have to find alone time to catch up). But I decide to watch a documentary, because those tend to be entertaining enough that I don't die of boredom, but boring enough that I can usually focus on my painting or whatever I'm doing (in this case, my digital illustration assignment about sleep apnea, which is a ridiculously dull assignment in the first place but what should I expect from an overworked professor of about 80 art students at a school that no one gives a crap about.... I digress...)


I pull up this documentary called Hungry for Change which turns out to be extremely informative but leaves me feeling brainwashed and incredibly guilty about my daily eating habits. I think about texting my neurotically healthy best friend (neurotic in the kindest of senses, dear friend) about this film to ask about it's accuracy, but I was terrified that her answer would leave me feeling like even more of a fat slob for having just made an entire roast pot roast the night before, complete with potatoes, white rolls, and a cheesecake. All for just the two of us.

So now I'm going to make dinner for my man. I had already made the decision to heat up some left over rolls and make soup out of a cheap soup mix that I got because it was two for a dollar. I'm looking at the ingredients of the soup mix which happens to be a long list of words I can't dream of pronouncing and I'm just feeling hopeless. How on earth was I ever going to become one of those crazed juice freaks who gets high off the smell of beets? I could hardly eat the soup stuff when it was all made. Sure it was nasty, but after watching that documentary I just knew that all I was eating was blubber made out of a factory. I chopped up some celery and threw it on our plates to earn a few half-assed healthy points.

It's now my time on the couch in front of the TV. I've been preparing myself for some Tierra slashing all day and I'm getting excited. But I keep thinking about the two slices of cheesecake that I've been saving (since yesterday, mind you) in the fridge for this very occasion. I've resolved to just sit on the couch and forget about it. I've had my 1200 calories for the day. I've been decently healthy. I've had my two fruits and two vegetables. My body should be happy with what I've given it.

Then suddenly I jumped up and quite literally ran for the fridge. I took out the entire pie pan with the two remaining pieces and a spoon and plopped myself back onto the couch just in time to hear that Tiarra knows that her eyebrow has its own twitter account. And I felt absolutely FANTASTIC.

Why? When this film spent two hours telling me that my body can't be happy unless I'm constantly shoving carrots up my butt, slurping down chia seeds, and bathing myself in organic coconut milk?

Because cheesecake. is. AMAZING.

And I would SO much rather be wrapped up in a blanket eating cheesecake in my sweatpants while watching the bachelor, then feel sorry for a second that I am an average healthy weight human being living in America in the 21st century.


I bet you were expecting some exuberant story about how I miraculously changed my life and my body changed over night. But you are wrong. I am a regular 20 year old with a quadruple butt and cankles, but I like the way I am and I'm not about to let some high class health film change too much about what I think. Only a little. Mostly about how gross high fructose corn syrup really is. Ew.

I think people now are starting to polarize. Either you are convinced that the lettuce on your Baconator counts as a vegetable serving, or you think that you are going to shrivel and die if you nibble at a sprinkle. I vow to always be directly in the middle. Some days I'm going to eat four pieces of pizza and be completely happy about it. But most days I'll try to eat mostly fruits and vegetables and be satisfied with a late night glass of chocolate soy milk. That is absolutely okay with me.

My favorite quote from the documentary was this:

"Whatever you hold in your mind on a consistent basis is exactly 
what you will experience in your life."
 -Anthony Robbins. 

Moral of the story. Be freaking amazing and be happy about how amazing you are, no matter if you love to chow down on pad thai every friday night, because it's how you think about yourself that matters. 

And that is how my Monday night went. 

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