I’d really like to lose some weight.
I also really love to eat.
This is a dilemma I’ve struggled with my whole life.
Occasionally I remind myself that there is an answer to this conundrum, a figurative and literal having my cake and eating it too. You may recognize it by its common name,
I’d like to think carrying an overflowing basket of dirty clothes from the third floor down to the basement laundry and back up again would be a valid substitute for traditional exercise, but sadly, the waistband of my jeans cutting into my stomach fat tells me otherwise.
In my book, grocery shopping should also be considered exercise. Load the bags in the cart, into the car, out of the car, up to the first landing, up to the second floor and then bend over lots of times to empty the bags and put the food away. That has got to equal a run around the track or 74 jumping jacks at least.
My thighs beg to differ.
The truth is, I’d really like to lose some weight.
But I also really love to eat.