Beyond mountains, there are mountains. No matter what challenge I tackle, I will always see the next challenge in the distance. From writing to crafting, from motherhood to running, I'm climbing mountains and mountains and mountains...
Friday, September 16, 2011
Intervention
Hi. My name is Megan, and I'm addicted to butter. Sweet, glorious butter! Whether generic or Lake o Lakes, with the Indian lady's knee/boobie peek-a-boo trick, butter is amazing. Without it, toast would just be crunchy bread, and butter-cream frosting would be non-existent! And poor Paula Dean would be unemployed!
My love affair with butter started at an early age. I was an anti-sauce kid, so I ate my pasta with butter. Rice with butter. Veggies with butter. My mom tried to switch to margarine for awhile, but I staged a coup and butter was quickly reinstated at the family condiment of choice. At restaurants, we would always have to ask for extra packets of butter for our rolls. I mean, do they really expect that one tiny square to sufficiently cover a roll? Really?? It's not like my excessive butter use was harming me; I was an active child, and skinny to the point of awkwardness. Butter wasn't slowing me down, not one bit!
However, when I arrived at college, I stopped my normal routine. I usually had a dance class or play rehearsal every day after school - at college, I had way too much free time, which I normally spent bumming around with my friends. A sedentary life style, along with my love of butter led my down the path of the dreaded Freshman 15. And Sophomore 20. It was not a pretty picture. Did this stop my buttery obsession?
No!
I still smear it on bagles, bread, pasta, pastries, everything. Today, I decided to bring leftover spaghetti and meatballs to work for lunch. Hubby watched as I added a few pats of butter to the spag before scooping up some sauce. He shook his head in utter dismay and said "Megan, we need to have a butter intervention."
"What, why?" I asked, wondering if I should lick the buttery knife clean.
"Butter is ruining your life! I don't want to come home one day and find you covered in butter! Think of the baby!!" I could see his mind swimming with images of me, sitting on the kitchen floor, shoveling sticks of butter into my mouth a la Homer Simpson.
I know I should cut back, or even quit. Not just for my health, but to set a good example for Little Toots. Butter is a sometimes food.
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