I hate salad

This post is brought to you by my truly horrendous lunch today.

Ever since my body realized I'm almost 30 and my metabolism retired to Del Boca Vista I've noticed a genuine need to watch what I eat.

But I ignored it.

And then my butt got big.

And then I went to a ladies Christmas program where I sampled 15 different desserts and had to unbuckle my pants to drive.

And then I tried to run on a bloated belly and found myself waddling and unable to breathe.

Time for ch-ch-ch-ch-changes, Stace!

So, on Saturday I bought myself some greens at our local farmer's market.  As an avoid-salad-at-all-cost eater I was unsure of which type of greens to purchase:  there were spiky greens and purple greens (?) and big greens and small greens and grass-looking greens.  The nice farmer suggested a mixed bag.  She said it was more of a spicy mix and that I would really enjoy it.

I hate it.

Yes, it is 100% the worst.

The spiky greens make my mouth tingle, the purple greens taste green and the other greens taste even greener than green.

My poor bottle of honey mustard put up a good fight but is completely under seasoned; it was definitely made to compliment another ingredient in the salad, one I am missing terribly.  I found myself today sitting at my desk with dressing all over my face and my mouth stuffed with my horrible mixed bag of lettuce I'm "really going to like" in an attempt to get it down as fast as possible and not actually taste one bite of it.

I may or may not have immediately afterward shoved a milk chocolate truffle in my mouth.

...

So in conclusion: I gave salad a chance.  Several chances, actually.  And now I'm going back to carbs and brownies and big butts and walking 5k races.

Don't judge.