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Blogfession: Wings 'n' Wedges... = Love?

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So yesterday evening I visited with my friend Nikki and accidentally had chicken wings and potato wedges from Double Double. Okay fine. I can't really say accidentally since we called it "Wings’n’Wedges" night and had been trying to plan it for months. Whatever.

Three things:

1) I'm eating everything awful this week to get cravings out of my PMSing system before I have to record a week of eats honestly for celeb-trainer Harley Pasternak's discerning perusal. Or judgement. Judgement because I have his books 5-Factor Fitness and 5-Factor Diet, both of which include a range of super-easy healthy recipes I'm totally ignoring. Judgment because when he was in town months back, he told me I'd done well since I'd last seen him, but I had to step up my game -- and I've beyond stepped it down.

God, I hope I do better next week. (Must drink green tea, not coffee; eat foods rich in vitamin A and omegas 3 and 6; get lots of sleep; and maybe get in a brisk walk or nine -- or stress-hormone cortisol is going to do my comfort eating for me and THAT. IS. BAD.)

2) Aside from the fat quotient (shut up), wings’n’wedges mean tons of salt, especially on crispy, so-yum chunky potato wedges.

3) I had a dream last night. One of my favourite kinds and the best part of my PMSing: a hormonally charged dream. Got to make out with a dream hottie dude. Only when he's sexily drawing me close for the kissing part, I'm dream-thinking in a panic, uh oh -- those wings'n'wedges have given me such dry mouth, maybe I shouldn't kiss him -- damn.

But wait! Apparently dream hottie dude doesn't care. *swoon* Now that's a dream guy.

Don't judge me.

Image courtesy of Dreamstime/Danielle Phaneuf.