clean eating

This is true love

I love cheese.

I’ve fallen in love with every water (and waitress) that has come by to offer to sprinkle cheese on my Italian meal. And by sprinkle, my meal is cheese with a side of Italian food ingredients.

Today. Valentine’s day. I hate Valentine’s Day. Valentine’s Day is the reason I started blogging. I decided to ignore the whole concept. Didn’t bring chocolate to the office, dressed in black (and purple), just a normal day in the life of Vanilla.


My junior knocked on my cubi-office, and handed me a aluminum foil rectangle.

From one single girl, to another… Happy Valentine’s Day.


She got me a grilled cheese sandwich. If that is not true love, I don’t know what is.

I did say I have the best team ever? As if I needed further proof.



Kuduro cucumber

I’m PMSing, y’all. Because that is obviously a topic of general interest, I have detailed various symptoms about my PMSing here and here and here.

This past weekend was not a weekend of moderation. On Saturday, I worked out for the third time in 2017 (yay, traveling! So much fun, except so much jet lag, and bloating and delicious but unhealthy foods). Of course, one hour of intense exercise with Coach Dr. Booté warrants me eating ALL of the food ever, right? Recovery diet, and all that. Sunday: brunch with a friend, followed by supper at a resto with my Pops, and wine, and cider, and chocolate because TREAT YO’SELF ITS THE WEEKEND!

Yesterday, I woke up feeling bloated. I decided: New Monday, New Day, New Me. Imma go on a diet. All morning at work, this happened. Then, I had a business lunch with a key consultant, fancy stakehouse, and why not? Entrée, bigass meal, chocoholic dessert.


I was so bloated my nylons and underwear were cutting off circulation in my lower body. It was so uncomfortable, I considered going commando at the office, but I opted not to and suffer in almost-silence (I only updated my team about the status of my bloating every 15 minutes, including but not limited to such descriptions as “I’m as bloated as a cucumber!” “I’m never eating food again, I swear” “Being a woman suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucks”), not because I felt it was scandalous, but because I felt that was the ultimate sign of defeat. I had to learn to live with my poor life choices.

I googled “death by water retention”.

Imagine my horror when, at dance class, I realized that of ALL the days… yesterday I had packed a crop top as my dance outfit.

I considered going home. #piorities

I didn’t bail on dance class. But I did sweat scary amounts, and turned the dance floor into a swimming pool. #sexy

Today, did I learn from my mistakes and eat healthily? HAHAHAHAHAHA no. I woke up craving a grilled cheese sandwich, and waited impatiently till noon to go and buy one for myself, which I scarfed down in approximately 34 seconds, and here I am sitting at my desk, debating if eating an entire chocolate bar counts as a serving of protein. I’m not sure, the science is out, but I’m thinking the answer to that legit question is “obviously”.



Holiday diet vs January diet 

After 10 days in Paris, and 2 weeks of holiday festivities where I drank on average 1 bottle of wine/day, consumed a scandalous amount of jellybeans, chocolate and happiness, I had put on 10 lbs.


1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10 TEN (!) pounds.

(As Teacher so kindly put it, when he saw me, “Damn, girl, I can see the weight in your cheeks! And your legs, but especially in your cheeks! You weren’t lying when you said you got chubbier.” Bro, stick to dancing, and shhhhh. Don’t speak. Like, ever.)

So, January 2nd, back at work. New year, new me, time to detox, and be productive. I decide to cut out alcohol (primarily because it is socially frowned upon to be drunk while closing out the books for the year) and eat a salad, because rumor has it that vegetables are not a bad thing.

I lasted 48 hours.

January 4th, I woke up and my kidneys hurt. Badly.

Its a well known mantra that you should listen to your body. So Jan 4th at night, I had pizza. Jan 5th, I woke up feeling better. So for supper I had wine and a burger and onion rings. And yesterday, Jan 6th, I was tip top shape. So I drank a bottle of wine at supper with my former roomie Kirsten.

Methinks losing the holiday poundage might be a very gradual process. I wouldn’t want to trigger kidney failure, for the sake of being slim. #priorities #wineisbae #pizzatoo

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The struggle is real…

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Naive + wishful thinking

Remember how I wasn’t worried about losing my vacation plump? “The food here won’t tempt me, no way, I am now a food snob, oui oui”.

Remember how I was going to eat a balanced diet because it is beneficial for my brain, especially now that I am struggling to keep the dark clouds from blocking out any sunshiny thoughts?

Behold, an exact representation of my behaviour at work the past few days:

My work is the best ever. There is ALWAYS free food, usually in the form of chocolate AND/OR candy AND/OR cookies AND/OR cake AND/OR pizza.

When I am stressed, I eat EVERYTHING.


This is a bit of a problem.

First red flag

During the holidays Beaut called me up to propose a great idea. He was sure I’d be down.

Why not go running outdoors together?

I didn’t understand. Voluntarily?

Yes, for fun. We both want to stay in shape during the holidays, as we eat non-ideal food. It’s a great way to combine our training objectives with seeing each other.


I was dismayed: all this time, I thought Beaut was a stand up, normal guy. Now, I realize he has a taste for pain and discomfort. #unusualtastes

NOBODY runs for fun. Nobody I wanna hang out with, anyhow.


What else is he hiding?



The end is near 


I must be very ill. 

Anticipating a very late night at the office, I went down to the office cafeteria around 6:30pm tonight, intending to buy myself chocolate.

Instead, I came back to my desk with a bowl of chicken soup.

That has never happened to me before.

The internet tells me that “disorientation” is a common symptom of:

  • Meningitis;
  • Acute Mountain Sickness;
  • Mad Cow Disease.

The next step is dementia and eating broccoli voluntarily.

It’s over. All downhill from here. 

Literally what happens EVERYTIME I go on a diet

And I do mean in the literal sense and not the abstract sense. The following monologue actually gets delivered OUT LOUD, much to my coworkers’ irritation.

Chocolate, I want chocolate. Oh it’s 9am – too early for chocolate. NO CHOCOLATE FOR YOU, hahaha sucker, you’re on a diet. Is it weird that I am having a conversation with myself? Maybe it’s time to do some work. Okay, I’ll work now.

Geez, so many emails? Why so many emails? I really want a muffin right now. No muffin for me (sing-songy voice). And if I can’t have a muffin, no one can have a muffin. No muffin for you! No muffin for you! And no muffin for YOU! I’m like the Oprah of deprivation.

Work work work. Accountants must all be fat, this is boring. Is it lunch-time yet? Oh, it’s only 10:10. Well, this sucks. I guess I’ll drink some water – hydrate my pretty skin.

Water is not doing it for me.

Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine, I’ll work now.

I have a headache. Must be from sugar withdrawal.


I want dessert I want dessert I want dessert I want dessert I want dessert I want dessert I want dessert I want dessert I want dessert I want dessert I want dessert I want dessert.

This apple is a shitty dessert.

K, I just did 24 minutes of work, can I have chocolate yet?

FML. This is going to be a long day.

Whaddya mean, I should stop talking? ARE YOU TALKING TO ME?!



Best gif ever, found on my newest favorite site: