Bread and I are like a set of frenemies on the Hills. I hate its existence but I can not live without the constant drama it brings to me. I have an addiction. I love it. I wish I could say I have forgiven it for its power it holds over me, then I could just forget it. I feel like telling Heidi off in a passive aggressive manner would be easier than giving the kiss off to the perfect sourdough roll.
Think about it, bread is the root of everything wonderful. The perfect sandwich. A Five Guys burger. Not to mention, it is the perfect partner to a great bowl of soup or it can be used to scoop into cheese or spinach dip. In my eyes, it can do no wrong ... except add unnecessary calories to my life. I can only think of the perfect french bread with the right amount of crunch on the outside and the soft, warm inside. Yum. What is it that you say? Control? Portion size? Hah! I appreciate your stock answers, but if I could do that then I would not be in this predicament.
I have been off of excessive bread for two days. Where is my poker chip? Where is the meeting of my peers? I will tell you where they are at?! Panera.
I should add that I ran two miles today and ate well. At least I can add something positive to the end of this blog.
XoXo-
E.L
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