Thursday, February 10, 2011

Cereal Monogamy

I stay true to my food, peeps.  I get in the mood for something and I go shop for it and then I will eat said thing morning, noon, and night, as meals and as snacks, day after day after day.

This is partially due to the fact that I don't like to cook; partially due to the fact that food in general freaks me out and is hard for me to figure out/contemplate/decide upon; and partially due to the fact that Big and I have completely different diets, so when I get stuff, it's hard to get it in one portion.  So I get a bunch of something and then I just work my way through it, like a caterpillar munching his little fuzzy way through the leaves of an entire tree.  Day after day, meal after meal, until it's gone.  Sometimes the craving persists and I'll go get another batch of whatever it is and subsist solely on it for another few days, and another.  I've eaten my third generation vegetable soup, and nothing *but* said soup, for a week at a time.  This, in other universes (universi?) is considered weird.  In my world, it's also considered weird, but I embrace my weirdness.  (OK, now the word "weird" is starting to look like I spelled it wrong.  Does that ever happen to you?  Suddenly a word just looks wrong  for some reason?  Well, it's starting to look a little...weird.  Ahem.  Moving along.)

Like serial monogamists, I will cleave to my beloved and pledge devotion and won't even bat an eye at anything else.  Nom nom nom nom nom....and then, after a while, the bloom falls off the rose, and I'm finding little flaws there that I didn't see before...the thrill is gone, baby, and I'm off to find a new love to brush my lips against.

This week?  Sundried tortillas (a shoutout here to Ole Xtreme Wellness Tomato Basil Tortilla wraps:  70 cals!!! Low enough to overcome my nausea at the purposeful misspelling on the label, something that I normally hate, despise, loathe and abhor).  I fill these bad boys with pico de gallo, lettuce (with more lettuce on the side, lol), scallions, and a few sliced black olives.  A little hot sauce thrown in the mix for good measure.  Back up the truck because you can eat these until you are blue in the face and, coming in at 125 or so with tax, tag and title, the damage is minimal.

I am a fickle one and I have no doubt that in a week or so, I'll be flirting with a cute little package of facon bacon on aisle three.  But for now, love reigns supreme.

*kisses burrito*