Fact: I am still adjusting to the appetite of a preggo.
One minute my tummy is content and then the next, wham!, starrrvvvviiiinnnngg.
And I must admit that I am really trying to maintain a mostly-healthy lifestyle. Now that I’m out of my elastic-bottomed, men’s-sized, sweats (at least during daylight hours) and off of the couch, I have rejoined the gym. woot! for small victories. I am also being mindful (most of the time) of my diet. And by diet, I don’t mean diet. I mean the foods that I’m fast and furiously shoveling down my gullet.
The very first time I ever planted herbs, I planted a basil plant in a pretty little pot, sat it outside my apartment, watered it, loved it, doted on it…
…until the time came to make pesto. And I cut him down at. the. knees. As in, literally. Nearly all the way down to his fragile little roots.
Fact: I just exercised my powers of restraint.
As I scanned my list of recent posts, I realized that 4 out of the last 5 have been slathered in nut buttery deliciousness.
In a vain attempt to remind
you myself that I do, in fact, lead a fairly balanced lifestyle, I am going to toss my peanut butter cup ice cream back in the queue. Sad.