Today, I went to Safeway and walked out with a box of 12 waffle cone bowls, a half gallon of cookies'n cream ice cream, and a gigantic bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos (which I will continuously refer to as hot chips because that's just what they are. Don't ask questions).
"But it's not Paleo!!!" Screw Paleo. I tried it once. For 2 weeks. The result? A poor ass bank account, an empty hole in my heart where bread used to be, and a permanent frown that looked like Jeff Dunham's puppet friend, Walter. Seriously, I was NOT 'bout it.
The trip to Safeway today made me think about all of those somewhat lame Instagrammers we all follow.
LAME, right? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'll admit I follow instafemmefitness, but c'mon. Here I am, walking out of Safeway with a bag of slow American death, but how many cares do I give? NONE I TELL YOU! I'm gonna stuff my mouth with that delicious ice cream and maybe even sprinkle some hot chips on top. Who the hell knows.
I'm all about motivation and keeping myself driven, but women these days have the weird ass need to constantly remind themselves of their fitness goals by inundating their computers and phones with pictures of other chicks that have photoshopped abs and fake boobs. I'm still learning to embrace my love of hot chips AND crossfit, and I think all those normiegirlycrossfitters should too.
Embrace YOUR love for your metaphorical bag of Hot Chips and truly carpe that diem.
Embrace YOUR love for your metaphorical bag of Hot Chips and truly carpe that diem.
