This morning I composted the last of the dessert. Well, the second to last. There is still an entire flan to eat. Anyone? Seriously. I was so excited for Thanksgiving because I was going to "let" myself eat whatever I wanted. And there was going to be so much to want, at the ready, easy as pie. I was a dam ready to burst. Enough of this bullshit healthy eating, I want "real" food! But now, four increased blood pressure days later, I remember why I "choose" to eat healthy. My allergy to wheat and dairy causes wild mood swings, melancholy, and crying jags. I become more emotional, in a puffy, throw yourself on the bed and weep kinda way. Thanksgiving was a reminder that those foods, that look, smell, and taste sooo good, don't make me feel good. Feeling good trumps tasting good. Ahh, into the compost last piece of blueberry pie and three slices of gingerbread cake. You were stale anyway.

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