If someone had asked me last month if I was ready for a lifestyle change, I would have responded yes – if by lifestyle change they meant winning the Lotto or something along those lines. That would present a pretty significant change in lifestyle, no? If they meant the other kind of lifestyle change (Translation: YOU NEED TO GO ON A DIET), I probably would have punched them in the face and called it a year.

The truth is I have made a lifestyle change due to a recent meltdown I had at work a few weeks ago. Other people’s stupidity coupled with my body’s knack for high drama of the blood pressure variety, sent me to the nearest Urgent Care. Talk about being scared straight. Stroking out is no joke, people. So - since I don’t want to embarrass myself and die at work slumped over a stack of paper, I decided to drop the food shovel that’s strapped to my back and look for some bad-ass Nikes instead.

I wanted THESE: 

But I'm smart enough to know that this is not the look for a grown ass woman with no historical ties to Hello Kitty or a love of basketball. So I'm stuck wearing my old Nikes for now and they work just fine for the......wait for it......Zumba party! That's right - I ditched the workout and joined the Latin American party bus headed for Fitnesstown, USA. Since I wasn’t losing any weight using only the power of my imagination (I’ve been winning gold medals in my head on the uneven bars since 1984, when the movie Nadia came out on TV), I had to actually…well, move a little.  By God, I’ve become some kind of merengue superstar. I am on my way to kick ball changing my fat from here to perpetuity and I love it. It’s the most fun I’ve had exercising since Richard Simmons’ Sweatin’ to the Oldies 1, 2 & 3 on VHS.

So how does this figure into the whole baking career? It doesn’t. I’m not going to fiddle around with recipes and try to make them healthier. And while I applaud the very few who can turn a vegan dessert into something not akin to dog caca, that’s just not what I do. Interestingly enough, I don’t go hog wild on my own baked goods anyway. I distance myself from the final product, only allowing myself a small taste test to make sure that what I’m presenting is in fact, not only edible, but damn good. Nope. I will continue on in the spirit of full-fat/gut-busting desserts because unlike the Avengers, I can’t save America from space invaders or its obesity problem. I can only save my own fat ass one salt-free, salsa step at a time.

Now for a comparison...

                                         My former breakfast of choice:

                                                   

                                    

                                    And now.....oatmeal with a shitload of fruit                       

I wish I had won the Lotto.