I said I was going to juice more this week and I have been. Well, a little bit, still not as much as I would like to. I asked hubby to buy me some carrots to add flavour to my juice. I must have been mumbling or something, because he came home with a 10 pound bag and then promptly went on a business trip. Ten pounds just for me, are you kidding me?
Normally I would have a simple solution - carrot cake - and lots of it, which would make everyone happy. Not this time though.
If I had a rabbit - which I wish I had by the way - we would still struggle to get through it. So guess which juice I'm drinking this week?
Yup, 4-5 carrots, one apple, and a 'top of your thumb joint' piece of ginger makes a delicious drink. Actually it's delicious the first time. By the time you have had 6 of them, you start feeling a little um, well, nauseous is a good word. I keep looking at my hands, but they haven't turned orange yet.
At least I'm getting my beta carotene and anti oxidants.
But really, I'm just avoiding the truth here. My chatter about carrots is to hide the real issue.
The real issue is that all I have been able to think about today is having a poached egg on Saturday morning for breakfast. Actually I've been debating whether I will be able to stop at one, or will splash out and have two.
And you know what a poached egg means don't you. It means toast too. You can't just eat them on their own, it wouldn't be right.
I just can't help myself okay. This 40 days suddenly seems like a very long time. And, I can hear those eggs and those little poaching pods calling my name every time I walk into the kitchen. I've shoved them to the back of the drawer and turned the music up louder so I can't hear them, but they keep calling.
What's a girl to do?
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