there's no other way to say it-
here's the thing-
i have a genuine problem with eating too many pastries, cookies, and cakes.
a problem which has become all the more apparent in my present state.
uh-huh.
my mystery back/leg infirmity is better, by far, but it's not all better by a long shot.
that means less exercise,
and shorter, less intense, but more strenuous, walks with the dog.
and all of that,
in turn,
means that my ancient body is accumulating the caloric gains of all the treats,
like a fuel stockpile,
with no big bursts of expended energy
to mitigate the mealtime/snack-time/all-the-time shark gluttony
that has hallmarked months of home aloneliness.
ummmmm.
yeah.
now that i'm old and busted, and parts are wearing out,
it seems that doing the things that i do is now doing me a mischief.
so,
to all those questioning comments left on my instagram
as to how i am not some random multiple of hundreds of pounds,
what with all the incredible edible excellence i ingest in immeasurable amounts?
thanks for jinxing it, jerks.
i'm experiencing an expansion explosion at the moment.
yuck.
shoutouts to consequences, i guess...
on the ones,
taking a daily five or six mile uphill hike has been exceptional for my metabolism-
but turning it down to just a two-ish mile hobble isn't helping,
even though that's about all i can manage without crawling on my last leg
for the last length on the way back...
also,
trying to engage in dynamic movement to get the ol' heart going,
and maybe convert some of the blarp to usable mass isn't working either.
nope.
lifting anything much more than my own body, (which i'm barely managing)
has me hunched over and hurting like a wounded weakling.
ugh.
does any of that sound good?
i didn't think so.
and there's just one even bigger problem, as i see it-
peanut butter chocolate coconut pastry bites sound SO GOOD.
that's the catch.
there's the trip-up.
that's just the thing that derails an already damaged train of thought......
the treats aren't any less tasty because my body isn't as mobile.
word up.
dudes,
check the self-destruct-type teleport:
I'M GONNA GET SOOOOO FAAAAAAAATTTTT!!!
aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!
uh-huh.
crimpy, crispy, crusty, sweetened, buttery pastry cups,
with a powdered sugary, peanut buttery, vanilla-bean-pasty blop of hottness
in the center,
yup.
a big ol' scoople of that natural peanut butts,
with a teaspoon of vanilla paste,
and a quarter cup of powdered sugs,
a splash of soymilk to emulsify it,
and 3 tablespoons of freshly-ground unsweetened dry flake coconut.
how good is that?
it's kinda like a less translucent butterfinger filling.
i mean it.
a little added fat would've probably made it incredibly butterfingered.
i'm glad i skipped it, given how greasily, gooey, and gloppy they already are.
oh?
yeah, thanks for the reminder,
but i'm well aware that rules is rules, fools-
so, maybe i didn't put butter in 'em,
but i sure as heckfire put chocolate on top of 'em,
and i glistened that with a droplet of agave, to help it melt!
when they came out of the 420F hot-as-F* oven,
after about 20 minutes fo golden-browning,
i added a little tingle-springle of coconut sprankles as well!
that's IT, neighbors.
too much is the right amount,
and i won't let up, even if i have to pop a button on my pants sometime soon.
ha.
ok,
that's not entirely true.
i do NOT want to all-the-way blarp out.
i guess that means that starting today,
i've got to eat more space-consuming crunchy veg,
and less sugar-packed cookies and cake-
at least until i look like myself,
or, until my back is better enough that i can burn through
way more calories every day.
awwwwwwwwww.
i'm self-aware, and i'm self-conscious,
and i'm consciously selfishly aware of my own self-image.
it's all really happening,
and if i maybe wasn't so effing expert at all this food,
none of this would be an issue.
however,
i couldn't live with myself trying any less than my hardest, y'know?
that's real.
being dope is as important as staying ugly,
there's just no room in there to also be fat;
never quiet, never soft.....
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