I start each week with the full intent to eat healthier. For the most part, I meet this goal. But when it comes to “an apple a day,” I can’t seem to get my act together.
The result — at the end of the week — is ‘five servings of fruit’ sitting on my desk, begging to eaten, hoping to be spared the fate of rotting throughout the weekend. I want to aid them in their plight. I really do. But downing five apples in one sitting is a task even Superman would find daunting. So I have to improvise.
I cut them into small chunks to put into a salad. I pare down thick-cut wedges, then fill the middle with peanut butter to make a sort of boat — complete with raisin ‘captain.’
I bake them, fry them, slather them with caramel and peanuts. I sauce them, roast them, use that weird core-and-peel thingie (if only to entertain myself for half a minute).
I let them dry on the windowsill and marvel at how much they look like old people. And sometimes I just huck them at the wall, and instantly feel bad about it, then mad at myself for creating a mess that no one but me will clean up.
And through all of this, I’ve never once considered just not buying apples. I mean, they’re good for you, right? And if you buy them, then you are health-conscious and at least making an effort at improving your health.
And even if you don’t eat them, at least you get an ‘A’ for effort. Or I guess ‘A’ for apple and ‘E’ for effort, but no one can really say that with a straight face. Not even Superman.
This weekend, I am faced with the reality of consuming no less than seven apples. I only hope I can finish them before buying more.
by Federico LaDuenza | Residential Life Magazine