So, I know I’ve been that girl. Not Marlo Thomas, but that girl who has been blabbing about her upcoming wedding. It’s hard not to when having a stripped-down wedding seems to still create like 9,567 tasks. However, I’m finally starting to get to the fun parts…namely the Bachelorette parties. Yeah, I said “parties.” That’s right. I had two amazing weekends with some of the most awesome friends a lady could ever have. I had a tiki gnome-led scavenger hunt around NYC with the Ladies and Gilded Age extravaganza in Newport with The Gents.
We laughed about old times. I got a little toasted from the cocktails as I got roasted about my past misadventures. Remarkably, one thing that came up BOTH weekends was my past love of marshmallow fluff. Jerome the Tiki Gnome and his bevy of Ladies gifted me a jar of Fluff in front of my old Lower East Side apartment. (There always was a jar of fluff in that place.) The Gents used to hope for an “Empty Calorie Fabulous” wedding theme.
What can I say? I wasn’t born a health coach. My transition has been a work-in-process. It still continues to evolve.
What I can say is: I grew up with a grandmother who would make me little graham cracker & fluff sandwiches served on her midcentury Lu-Ray Pastel dishes. Over the years, I ate fluff when I needed some comfort. I ate fluff when my life was a tad too bitter. Some days I was too impatient for The Swiss Miss to visit with her warm chocolate concoction. So, I just ate it out of the jar with a spoon. I even double-dipped. Ew.
I have one more confession.
I pulled out a spoon last week and dug into the jar that has been face-height in my cabinet for about two weeks now. I know, I know…not very plant-based for someone who just graduated from a Natural Kitchen chef training program. I ate two giant spoonfuls. (I double-dipped again.) I knew what was going to happen, but that sweet, white Siren is alluring. Our relationship had changed though. She was cloyingly sweet. Two bites were two bites too many. Within about 20 minutes, I was parched, headachy and unable to focus. No grandmotherly love. No Lu-Ray plates. Just a tooth-rotting, chemical sugar high. Lesson learned.
Do you have a food that makes you weak in the knees? C’mon, be honest. I’d love to hear your funniest stories here. Post them in the comments below.