Sunday baking

There's a constant battle in my mind over baking. I LOVE to bake. And I'm sure I'll never stop or anything, so I guess it's not so much a battle…. just little debate in my head over whether to feel good… or guilty.

There's nothing more homey, or comforting to me than the smell of fresh chocolate chip cookies or homemade bread. I still remember one of the most magical things to me as a kid (besides the foil pouches full of juice I got at soccer games (capri suns) ) was that moment where you stir the chocolate chips in to the dough and it just-- looks--- like--- heaven. We always got one big spoonful before the cookies were baked. As we got older, we snuck lots more.

However, while looking through old photos for good ones of my dad, I've been forced to realize that all of the spoonfuls of cookie dough seemed to have left a little bit of residue…. on my cheeks, my arms, my thighs…. a little bit everywhere really. I think I must have fluctuated 20 pounds through high school and I never had a clue. I felt perfectly lovely.

I WISH I could enjoy that sort of oblivion now, but I'm convinced that once you've had a baby and you look back at the pictures of your blown-up pregnant body, you hear the record screech--- and the curtain's been lifted. You know too much. You can never again blissfully munch your way to an extra 15 pounds with the pleasure of not noticing.

Oh no--- your body tells you--- I remember this feeling, and last time it left me looking like a Dr. Suess character. (Ok… I stole that from Mad About You I think? Is that right Sarah?) But isn't she spot on? It's like all of my proportions turned upside down after babes. Which just means that every extra pound I do accrue doesn't find it's way to those curves we can justify as womanly… oh no, mine all join forces to give me extra manly curves, like the ones we so tenderly call, muffin tops, or the belly of a drinker.

But my point is. This does not come CLOSE to stopping me. I love my treats. I love the smell and feel of homemade goodies. And I know that as long as all things are in moderation, life is good. But there are those times when I feel so much admiration for a health NUT. Like a full-on NUT. I don't like the ones that obsess outwardly about it. And talk to you like if you're starving and snacking on your kid's gold-fish you must think that refined sugars and starch are good for you. But the ones who eat so clean and pure, you know they must feel like an Olympic athlete all the time--- I have so much respect--- I think there's something to it.

And this is when I wish I didn't feel a warming of my SOUL through baking. :) The garbage on grocery store shelves, we can live without (when we're not lazy), but the clicking of the gas in the oven and the smell of butter and sugar (since that's all that REALLY matters) browning… I think it's here to stay.

And SO, so is my muffin top.

I'm so glad I've resolved this through this post. Ross, I hope you're ok with my decision.