WHOLE (FREE) FOODS

I have a secret. A dirty little secret: I am a sample whore. A food sample whore. Farmer's market on a Sunday... Would you like to try a homemade pickle? You bet I would! Costco (on any day really)... Would you like to try this shitty nut mix with a dollop of hummus? Sure! Why not. Whole Foods bakery section... A basket of  some seven grain zero taste bread that will back me up for days? Thank you sir, I'll have another!

It doesn't matter what they're passing out, if there is food, and IT IS FREE, I am in. Much like a wedding reception or any party where they are passing out hors d'oeuvres, I will bee line straight to the food source, ditching whatever conversation I'm engaged in, (in this case it's my shopping cart) to make sure that I get my hands on that spring roll (and yes, I would like to dip, please).... And I will then stake out the door that the waiter came through, coordinate with my fellow fat f*ck friends who also eagerly await the "tuna tartar," to make sure we've covered all points of exit/entry and have hit every different tray and option (BTW, Waiter with the caviar/creme fraiche- looks-fancy-but-really-just-filler-appetizer-BS?  You can keep walking. I prefer your friend with the fried stuff). But I digress....

The point is, I have taken food sampling to a whole new level and my "ahh, what do we have here" delight over a freebie, has tooooootally rubbed off on Baby-Ko.  No matter what, it seems that these days, when I go to a Whole Foods where they have their pizza bar, I am compelled (NO MATTER WHAT TIME OF THE DAY IT IS), to ask for a sample of the pizza. Yes. The pizza. Not a bite of the tuna in the case. Or a shaving the turkey they are cutting. A SAMPLE OF PIZZA, which if you are familiar with WF, means they are pretty much slicing me a goddamn piece and ME pretending that "Hmm, yes. So good. Do I want this for dinner? Huh. Hmm. The pesto may be a little too strong for me. I'm gonna walk around and think about it." (Cut to me in the check out line, thankful I had a little snack to tie me over to dinner.... In ten minutes). 

Today though, my compulsion to sample all things free and greasy made me feel a little guilty. As I was shoveling "today's special" in my mouth, prepared to make up an excuse for why I wouldn't actually BUY it, Baby-Ko started to beg me for  a bite of "pisa" (said like the tower).  I gave him the rest of my sample (more like a nibble since I had pretty much devoured it), but it wasn't enough. He wanted more.

"Mo Pisa Mo. Pisa, Mommy. Mo." 

"All done, baby. No more pizza," I said loud enough for the clerk to hear me.

"Oh, does he want some?"

"Aw, no. We're fine. Really. We're okay," I said eyeing the perfect end piece that could easily get stuffed in to my, I mean, Baby-Ko's mouth. 

Without missing a (my pathetic) beat, the clerk handed me a small slice. Wanting to keep it to myself, but feeling the entire deli line staring at me, I begrudgingly handed it over to Baby-Ko. "Pisa mommy," he said smiling and getting it all over his face.

"Yes, pizza," I said, about to bolt from the counter of shame.

He held up the slice in his fist. "No mo pisa, mommy. All done." WHAT?! Just like that? What about the starving kid act we had going? All done? Really?!  

With my now second slice of pizza in hand, I smiled politely to the clerk and said, "This is delicious. We'll take two slices to go please."

"Thought so," the clerk said (with his eyes).

Well... So much for being 5 pounds away from the coveted wedding weight. Looks like I'm having pizza tonight for dinner. Again....

MUFFIN TOP

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have an announcement please....

I. WENT. TO. THE. GYM. TODAY.

I do believe a "mazel tov" and even a "l'chaim" are due. The List God's Nanny is here today and along with getting some writing done and going to Target, getting my fat ass to the gym was high on my priority list. NOW, before you go burning my spanks, I suppose I need to come clean about my little "fitness routine" at the gym today...

Even though the Nanny is here, I didn't want to be gone too long so I decided to go to the ghetto gym closer to my house. The other one I usually go to isn't exactly fancy, but it's always crowded... Every machine is taken by gorgeous wannabe actors and actresses with killer bods. I used to go to that one and feel inspired, but this morning, trying to stuff my tribeswoman tits into my sports bra, was all the inspiration I needed. (More on breastfeeding in another post... maybe).

When I get to the ghetto gym, a wave of nervousness comes over me. First of all, it's packed. Second of all, there are young, good-looking people here. What the fuck?! Wannabe's don't live this far out in the valley! I spot an open treadmill behind a great big post, next to the only elderly person in the gym. I push the "manual workout" button and it automatically sets the clock for 20 minutes. Perfect, that's all I got in me. (Shut up, I walked fast. Very fast. Up hill... )

After my 20-minute fat-man-heart-attack-walk, I grab my belongings and jump off the treadmill. Behind my treadmill was a row of old school Stairmasters.... This guy gives me a look and then looks at my treadmill, as if to say "you were only on for 20 minutes? Seriously??" Quickly, I spot an open bicycle and leap towards it, hoping this guy sees me get on it, as if to say, "fuck you. I'm far from done with my workout."

As I start pedaling, I realize how lame I am... especially because I'm only going to put in another 5 minutes. (I have a lot to do today!) My 5 minutes are up before my Ipod even shuffles to another song and I jump off. Yes! Time to hit Target. Workout complete. I grab my purse and as I stand up, I feel more stares from all the women on the precor machines. "5 Minutes?! You really think you'll lose your MUFFIN TOP working out like a stroke victim after 5 minutes?"

Whatever. I have a baby at home whose need for diapers is far more important than fulfilling the recommended 30 minutes of cardio a day... I think. Plus, I'm still breastfeeding. I've heard a breastfeeding woman can burn like 600 calories a day- that's equivalent to a spin class. Precor, THAT, bitches.