Sadly, I've found that the boys have been eating more greenery than I. This is the only world that could possibly exist in. Full confession mode: I have had french fries at least once a day since I've been here. Even fuller confession mode: when the rare day comes along that I skip getting ice cream, I'm proud of myself. Way to go Claire, why don't you give yourself a big pat on the back? You only ate kind of horribly today.
Einstein's, on the other hand, is a whole new level of bad decision making. If I had been here one year earlier, perhaps I would have avoided it since I'd already learned to live without it...instead, I'm shoveling in bagels and smoothies at a rapid rate several times a week. What is that?! It's so close, so delicious...pretty much the definition of the devil on your shoulder; a devil I've managed to quickly befriend and love so dearly. Boy oh boy have I done it now.
Amongst all of this, an even larger question looms-
"How many times have you experienced productive physical activity since you've been here, Claire?"
My response usually inquires whether or not living on the fourth floor counts. The response to that is usually the logical one: why, of course not.
In a perfect world, this confession would prompt me to rethink the next plate of mayo and french fries or smoothie run- but in this world, all I can do is hope that it does.
Say a prayer for Claire everyone.
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