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Archive for the ‘Diet’ Category

Clean That Plate!

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 4:20 PM
Tuesday, September 11, 2012

At a lovely restaurant the other night with friends, I was the only one who ordered (and ate) dessert – chocolate lava cake. I don’t really like alcohol, so for me, as I’ve mentioned in past blogs, chocolate is my last remaining substance-intake-related sin.

If you can even call chocolate a substance

I prefer “baked love.”

Anyhow, as I was eating my baked love-AHEM-!-chocolate cake, my friend outed her husband. She told us that the reason he wasn’t partaking was because the night before, he had over-indulged in the dessert at a friend’s dinner party, and since that dessert was particularly disgusting, he had eaten platefuls upon platefuls of it until he felt physically sick – a condition that lasted until that morning.

Uhhhhh… excuse me, did I hear that right?

It was disgusting… so he ate it nonstop.


Apparently, yes. My friend explained to us that her husband was so eager to make people feel good (at least when it comes to their cooking), he always ate way more than he would normally when he was offered something he didn’t like, just so the person would never suspect that he didn’t like it and get offended or feel disappointed.


Actually, I can relate, because, while I don’t generally go to the lengths of making myself physically sick in order to ensure my host is happy, I do understand the desire to make a host/server/cook feel appreciated.

But THEN… it came out that in this case – the case of my friend’s husband, eating platefuls of the gross dessert –  the host never even saw him eat the dessert! So he literally had no reason to keep shoveling it in his mouth.


I still get it.

Because for me, when I eat something gross, I find I must “top it off” with something delicious. The worst part is that usually, I have eaten most if not all of the gross food/dessert (though maybe not platefuls of it), in the hopes that SOMEHOW it will start tasting yummier the more bites I take.

I mean, come on, it LOOKS delicious!!!

You know what I mean? So finally, when my body revolts and my stomach inflates like a hot air balloon, and a sour liquid starts to erupt in the back of my throat, I realize that I SHOULD actually just stop eating. Period.

But… I find that in the same way I only like a movie with a happy ending, I also only like a MEAL with a happy ending. So, no matter how many calories I already consumed, and no matter how tight my jeans feel across my belly, if I ate something yucky, I feel I MUST go immediately to the closest Urth Caffe and order at least one warm chocolate chip cookie.


(…or whatever close substitute I can get to, if I can’t get to Urth. Which is dangerous, because if I eat another dessert that ALSO tastes gross, I’ll feel even worse and yet STILL need to find that final happy ending bite…)



Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

See if THAT tasted bad, I'd be so disappointed, I would first eat the whole thing just to be SURE... and THEN I'd have to have some ice cream at the end of it just to leave me with a good taste in my mouth. Excuse me, I need to go barf now.

Flashback Friday! (The Key to Dieting – Those 3 Little Words)

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 11:35 AM
Friday, August 3, 2012

Every Friday, I post an oldie but a goodie blog for your enjoyment. To those of you who just started reading The Grownup Girl recently, enjoy the “new” blog! To those of you who have been with me from the start, but have memories like mine, enjoy the “new” blog!

And to those who were with me from the start and who already read this blog and burned it into your memory, word for word, photogenically, I say:

What are you doing wasting your time dilly-dallying on my website? Get out there and find me a book deal!

If you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below.

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – The Key To Dieting – the BLOG

Without reservation, I can tell you the quickest and surest way to get me started on a strict diet that I will adhere to no matter what temptations cross my path is for me to hear those magical three little words uttered when I least expect them. Each time it has happened – that is, each time the phrase was uttered to me and subsequently my new diet launched like a racehorse after a shotgun is fired – it came from the mouth of a small child – like a message sent directly to me from an earthly angel. You know what I mean, those big, wondering eyes look up at you with excitement and curiosity, and then without any of the adulterated filters that will come later in life, they blurt:

“Are you pregnant?”

What a nightmare. I can tell you right now, ye who have never been pregnant (don’t need to tell you moms – you grownupgirls already know what I’m saying) – the measure of joy, of being able to tell others that the reason your stomach is enormously fat is because there is a new precious soul growing snugly within, only just barely rivals the amount of anger and fury one experiences, when others suspect your enormous stomach must be the result of a pregnancy because HEAVEN FORBID someone’s stomach looks that bloated and or ginormous without a living, soon-to-be breathing soul taking up space from within.

It’s happened several times to me with adults, too – that is, a clueless adult will ask me how many months I am or some such bullshit, and I have to break it to them that I’m not pregnant, just fat, apparently, thank you very much. As recently as this morning, I attended a bris ceremony, and as I sat down at a packed table to eat my brunch, a man I’ve seen around but don’t know well stood up. “Please,” he offered, as if I needed his chair as well as mine to sit down. “I’m fine,” I smiled back at him. “No worries.”

“It’s okay,” he beamed, continuing up and away from our table. “Anyway, you are eating for two!”

It took me a good second or two to process what he meant. Lucky for him, he had departed by then. If you, dear reader, would like to avoid this & other faux pas, please refer back to my earlier blog where I break down a whole list of Do’s and Don’ts.

But for some reason, it’s when the children start to chime in – maybe it’s their innocence, and my subsequent inability to blame them in my head for being pigheaded, rude and obviously blind – that I suddenly wake up to the fact that if I don’t start and stick to a diet RIGHT NOW, my stomach will go from looking mildly swollen (or “newly pregnant”) to downright round and balloon-like (“5-6 months along”), at which point my hips, butt and face will start to fill in too.

The first time a child graciously helped me start a new diet was about six months ago. Looking straight into my belly (the height her head came to), my neighbor’s eight year old asked sweetly, “Are you pregnant?” Two weeks later my husband and I started the Suzanne Somers Diet, and four months later, I was a lean, mean (just kidding – I’m really nice), dieting machine.

Then I fell off the wagon. Or more accurately, I just felt like, ‘my body looks pretty great now, so why don’t I eat that piece of pizza/cake/cookie/brownie/plate of pasta/you fill in the blank_____ right now since it looks so good/smells so good and I’m really hungry/tired but want to stay up late/I’m bored/I’m with friends who are eating/I’m alone?’

I went from dieting six days a week and cheating once a week (okay, twice), to eating whatever I wanted six days a week and sticking to my diet once a week. I also took a new job three months ago, so with that my gym attendance deflated from the robust 4-5 times a week it had been prior, to the current 1-2 times a week. I had gotten so slim, so in shape that it really didn’t matter, the food, the gym; it didn’t seem to be affecting me at all… until…

“Mommy, you look like you have a baby in your tummy!” were the exact words my four year old exclaimed to me today. Her words tinged, I might add, with the slightest bit of hope and fear, due to the fact that she’s often asked for a little brother but is not quite sure whether it would be exactly the party she hopes it will be if it does happen…

Lucky for you, baby, there is no such life-changing occasion about to present itself in your life (i.e., a new sibling). There is however, a new life-changing event taking place in mine…

Diet starts tomorrow.


Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

Pregnant? Or just REALLY full?

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Flashback Friday! (Food For Thought, Part 1)

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 11:06 AM
Friday, June 8, 2012

Every Friday, I post an oldie but a goodie blog for your enjoyment. To those of you who just started reading The Grownup Girl recently, enjoy the “new” blog! To those of you who have been with me from the start, but have memories like mine, enjoy the “new” blog!

And to those who were with me from the start and who already read this blog and burned it into your memory, word for word, photogenically, I say:

What are you doing wasting your time dilly-dallying on my website? Get out there and find me a book deal!

If you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below.

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – Food For Thought Part ONE – the BLOG

There’s dieting, binge eating, picky eating, healthy eating and gorging… and now, gentle readers, I have coined a new phrase you may all feel free to use: Redemptive Eating.

I don’t mean eating to prove the worth of one’s soul, though that sounds good, too. I’m talking about eating something satisfying and delicious to REDEEM the nightmare piece of crap disguised as food that you ate prior, and now feel sick about.

Por ejemplo: last week, in a rush to “save money and eat healthy,” I sautéed some pre-packaged tuna steaks. Popped one in a Tupperware, and took it to work with me, with a red pepper. Perfect!

Except… it was disgusting.

Not bad fish or anything, thank GOD… but I over cooked it a little, and this fish already being of the non-fresh Trader Joe’s variety, was none too helped by my overcooking.

I ate almost half until finally giving up. For the next two hours, I was caught in a dilemma: do I now go out and spend money on a second lunch? I wasn’t even really hungry anymore. BUT that last food I ate, the tuna? We all know where the phrase “left a terrible taste in my mouth” comes from, right? And you, who read my last blog, you know I like happy endings, right? (If you didn’t read it, go take a sec, read it now. I’ll wait. Really, go ahead. Enjoy.)

So – I almost made the mistake of ordering an omelet, again. Had it the day prior AND the day before that. A girl can only eat so many eggs. What I really wanted to order was the Ahi tuna salad. (From Blu Jam, on Melrose, they are fantastic.) But it was so expensive! And… you know, I just ate half a tuna already!

In the end, I took a chance, and sprung for the Ahi salad.

Friends, you are reading the blog of one happy customer. Salad was divine. Tuna was perfect. The whole meal? Redemptive.

Redeemed my overcooked Trader Joe’s sorry excuse for a piece of tuna, that is.

Made me think about other times I’ve indulged in redemptive eating – like when a meal is so gross you just have to finish it with a huge latte, or thick piece of chocolate cake.

Anyone else get what I’m saying here?


Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

This salad probably wouldn't trigger a massive chocolate attack. Probably.

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posted by BatSheva Vaknin 11:05 AM
Monday, May 21, 2012

I’m tired this morning. And a little crazy.

But you went to sleep last night at 10pm! I know you are thinking. How in the world can you feel tired?

Okay, so you schlepped kids around all day yesterday, attended a pool party in the heat, cleaned the house and went to a barmitzvah party in the night.

Okay, so you drank a really strong vodka drink (after you promised yourself you wouldn’t drink, hello?!) and you ate about four pieces of cake (kids, can you say, sugar crash?) and you woke up at five AM this morning.

So what?

Wait… did you say FIVE? AM???

Ahhhh… now, we’re getting somewhere.

Was it a child who woke you up? Pee pee in the bed, perhaps? A nightmare, like the other morning when Esther woke up telling you “the car floated away and then I got in the car and it came back!” – ?


Gentle readers, I woke up at 5am this morning, and 5am about 4 days out of last week, and about 4 days the week before, and so on, because this week marks my fifth week.

Of Insanity.


SEAN T!!!!! WHAT’S UP?!!!!

DIG!!! DEEPER!!!!!

Sorry. I think I’ve been brainwashed.

But yes, I’m waking up at 5 a handful of days each week, and most other days I’m fitting it in before lunch, and when I say “it” I mean 45 minutes give or take of the hardest ‘boot camp’ style cardio workout I’ve ever done.

About three weeks into it, I realized I needed to change my diet too, or else all these washboard abs I’m surely creating will never see the light of day from beneath the “is there a baby in your tummy?” fat on my stomach.

Thanks, kids. Thanks a lot.

So I’m kicking sugar and alcohol for a while, too, except for a once-in-a-while cheat day, of which this past entire weekend  melded together and became just that – a Big Fat Cheat Weekend.

So I’m tired. But I’m pushing through.

Dig Deeper!


Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

I'm telling you guys, SOMEWHERE under my belly fat, my abs SO look like that.

Cold Case (adilla)

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 10:43 AM
Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Many of you know about the “cooking dynamic” that exists in my household. That is, my husband is an amazing cook – a veritable rice whisperer – and I, dear readers… am not. An amazing cook. Whatsoever.

Most days, my husband is able to either cook for our family, or I am able to re-heat something he cooked for our family a day or two prior. But SOME days, as you can imagine… we’re on our own, me and the kids. And the food I cook.

Sorry, I meant the food I “cook.”

Because some days, we just have hot dog popsicles – no cooking required! I think I could give Jessica Seinfeld a run for her money – who needs broccoli baked into meatballs when you can take a cold (pre-cooked) hot dog out of its packaging and hand it to your kids, encouraging them to “eat up! Hot dog popsicles for everyone!”

I admit, my son doesn’t like them cold, so I will usually go to the lengths to “cook” it for him – AKA, dropping it into a long coffee mug, filling the mug with automatic boiling water from our kitchen sink filter, let sit for 5-10 minutes, and… voila! A “hot” hot dog.

Another one of my favorite meals that I’ve distilled down to a no-cook dinner are “cold cases” or cold quesadillas. Don’t get me wrong, my kids do love a hot quesadilla – and it’s really not too hard for me to “cook” a couple slices of cheese atop a store-bought quesadilla, fold the thing over, then serve. But perhaps my children have unconsciously picked up that their mother does not love cooking – (Could it be from those times when I have unceremoniously announced, “I HATE TO COOK!”? God only knows…) – and therefore more often than not, they just ask for a ‘cold case’ instead of a hot one.

So that’s what I give them: A couple slabs of pre-sliced cheddar, rolled into a cold tortilla, and… voila! A delicious cold case, ready-to-order.

But what about greens, you may ask? My husband makes one of the most delicious green salads you will ever taste. And while I do make a decent Israeli salad (tomatoes & cucumbers), who has time for all that chopping? I prefer giving my children cucumbers “au natural.” No, you are not wrong – I give them a whole cucumber, and the little buggers are smart! They know to bite off each end and spit the ends into the trash before eating the cucumber entire.

On days when I feel the children absolutely MUST eat something hot? I generally stick to one of three reliable standbys: 1) Deep fried Fish Sticks, 2) Deep fried Chicken Nuggets, and 3) “Soupy and Rice” whereby I take a scoop of their father’s rice cooked the day before and add it to a steaming hot bowl filled with powdered soup mix & filtered boiling water.

Hey? Where are you going? Weren’t you and your child going to stay for supper???


Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

Who says Mama can't cook? Hot dogs for everyone!

Suck it Down

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 11:25 AM
Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Ew – when I wrote the title for this piece, I immediately flashed on a boy in high school who was renowned for forcing girls’ heads down there just seconds after they would start to kiss.


Sorry for sharing that – but my theory (as a blogger) is – if I have to think about it, then by extension, you now have to think about it.

Hee hee.

Like, por ejemplo… the actual subject of the blog. Creamy drinks.

Normal drinks, you perv! Get your head out of the gutter.

Seriously – I was sucking down a smoothie the other day – blueberry/mango/banana/soy milk, if you must know – and I just couldn’t stop. I couldn’t put the durn thing down for more than a couple of seconds without picking it up again, and then I continued sucking until I drained the entire thing dry.

I’m the same way with creamy cafe lattes (my favorite coffee drink, natch – they’re so creamy). My husband, along with many coffee drinkers, sip their coffees slowly, not caring how ice-cold the beverage becomes after a matter of minutes. Not me… if it’s sweet and creamy, I literally suck it down in a matter of minutes.

I can’t help myself!

What’s odd is that this doesn’t apply to food at all – I am a notoriously slow eater. My best friend in junior high school used to openly mock me for chewing my food so thoroughly, once asking me to count how many chews it took before I could swallow one bite of sandwich. It took her thirteen chews. It took me sixty.

So, I was sucking down my smoothie, shivering with cold from all the internal ice melting in my stomach, when it hit me.


I’ve seen the way my babies nursed. Their little mouths latched onto my boobs like the way a super glued construction man’s hat holds to on a steel beam high in the air. (TV addicts of the 1970’s, that one was for you.)

So, the way babies latch & nurse? THAT is the way I suck down my creamy drinks. Which has nothing to do with my eating food slowly.

Aren’t you glad we figured that out?

Hmmm… something tells me that if I didn’t manage to gross you out at the beginning of this blog…



Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

Yum! Baby hungry! (still grossin' you out? sorry...)

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Potty-Mouthed Mommy

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 12:39 PM
Monday, April 2, 2012

On the Subject of potty mouths, or more specifically, my potty mouth, when I write my blogs… I have a question to ask you guys. When I speak – especially in earshot of children – I’m clean as a whistle.

Not so much, when I write.

Not every blog, as you know, but MANY blogs, are clearly not even the slightest bit appropriate for children to read. I’ve even, on occasion, forbid my father to read one of my blogs.

The trouble is, whereas my father will happily oblige, following my instructions & skip any particular blog I ask him to – will my son/children do so too, as they grow older?


Who am I kidding? The Fantastics – the song, “They Did it Cause We Said No” – I think song was written with my future children in mind.

What I’m saying is that I’m more than nervous when I imagine my son or daughter reading my blogs. And I have 100% no idea how/whether to prepare them for what they will read and/or how/whether to talk to them about it once they’ve read them.

Hey, you!

Yeah, you! (if you are a parent of kids older than mine, preferably kids who turned out spectacularly)


I’m not going to stop writing.

And while I may tone down my language, I also may not. Tonight it hit me. As I write this, it’s 10:15pm on a Saturday night, my husband is out seeing a movie with a friend and all three of our kids are soundly asleep. And what do I do? What sneaky, rebellious, grownupgirl actions do I decide to take in my free, “Me Time”?

I ate some old stale chocolate cake. It was disgusting. So, I washed it down with Nutella spread onto dry challah bread. I don’t like Nutella. Oh – and as I fixed myself a coffee with Truvia and cream and got ready to check out what we’ve got saved on the ole DVR (ooooh, caffeine after 10pm?! NOW WE’RE TALKING! What other naughtiness do you have planned, Sheva, skipping the floss and going straight to the tooth-to-the-paste?)

Yeah, when all that bad-to-the-bonedness was taking place, it hit me:


In college, and for about 6-7 years after college, I was a full metal Party Girl.

Now? I’m a loving mom, a dutiful wife, an ardent student of Kabbalah (I even eat Kosher & keep Shabbat, for Christ’s sake!), and…


A (sometimes) potty-mouthed Grownup Girl.

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

THIS is my idea of a major rager. Can you blame me for wanting to drop the occasional f-bomb in a blog? It's all the rebelliousness I've got left.

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Think Thin

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 11:34 AM
Wednesday, March 7, 2012

So recently, I lost a bit more weight (yes, I’m already naturally thin-ish) and I got in pretty awesome shape thanks to the help of an amazing trainer that somehow was convinced by my ex-boss to train me for one month, for free. I’m trying to keep my body looking awesome for as long as possible, but I’m realistic.

Before, I had a trainer coming to me 4 days a week, doing a crazy training session for one hour each time, AND I was still doing cardio & Pilates on my off days. Now, I’m going to the gym most days, doing a cardio class here and there and once or twice a week, as much of a yoga DVD as I can bear before turning it off early and getting annoyed that anyone can really DO some of those crazy poses.

And I’m not in a fight with chocolate right now.

So, yeah, it won’t be long.

But in the meantime, I’ve identified the top most excellent thing that comes with being thinner than usual, and the top completely sucky thing. I know you’re waiting with baited breath, so enough of the introduction already! Here you go:

Being a bit thinner than usual is AWESOME because:

Clothes look better on you.


And being a bit thinner than usual is NOT AWESOME because:

I’m freezing all the time.

Freeeeeezing. All. The. Time.

What is up with that? I go to bed at night with the heat cranked to 75, a down blanket AND a thick silk cover AND a t-shirt, a long-sleeve t-shirt (over the short sleeve), flannel pajama pants, socks AND a wool sweater. In the immortal words of my father the lawyer,  “I shit you not.”

So… is it all worth it? The slim, lithe, make-my-clothes-look-hotter thinness?

I’m on the fence. Because I started to notice my neck skin the other day, and it looked a little looser than usual. Was I dehydrated? Aging quickly? Or was my skin slow to realize that it needed to snap back into place where a tiny layer of fat had been?

My aunt will no doubt admonish me for spending any time at all talking or thinking about how I look. After all, it’s the inside that counts!

I think I’ll have this peanut butter and chocolate chip “protein bar” (LOLOLOL) and ponder it…


Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

If I wasn't so lazy, I'd learn photoshop and then I could stick my face on this body. But you get the idea.

And then I Fell off the Wagon

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 4:09 PM
Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Remember the good ole days, surfing in the Pacific, Flying on the Trapeze, and –oh yeah, swearing off desserts and alcohol for 40 days?

Me neither.

It was all wiped from my memory last week, as I drove away from Trader Joe’s with three different desserts on the seat next to me – mini chocolate cheesecakes, dark chocolate pretzels, and shortbread chocolate cookies. Each box opened, each dessert shoveled into my mouth as rapidly as I could manage while keeping the other hand on the steering wheel.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

I still don’t really drink alcohol, because – quite simply – I can’t drink alcohol without throwing up or feeling completely shitty the next day, or both. So I get my ‘alcoholic’ sugar the next best way – or the old fashioned way, via ‘actual sugar’ sugar.

Like last night, when it was “my husband’s birthday,” (there’s always an excuse for an addict to get her fix, isn’t there?) and I ate a cupcake. Or two.

Or the day before, when I had chocolate cake and flan because my guests brought it over for lunch. Or the night before that, when I had a slice of disgusting chocolate non-dairy cake because my child was eating it and it looked good, and I couldn’t reconcile the disgusting taste in my mouth with how yummy it looked, until I had already eaten the whole thing.


I haven’t gone back to my days of ‘chocolate every day,’ but I’m close. I keep thinking I’ll go off desserts again in January – isn’t that what everyone does? New Year’s Resolutions, yada, yada, yada. The truth is… it feels like I don’t want to miss out on all the delicious baked goods of this holiday season, but in my heart of hearts, I know what it REALLY is –

I don’t want to miss out on stuffing my feelings of anxiety (financial, career, life) back into a dark corner while I wait for things to go a little more “my way.”

And a very merry Christmas to you, too!



Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

Evil. Pure, unadulterated, delicious, mouth-watering, chocolate-y, creamy, evil.

The Chocolate Diet

posted by Sheva 11:44 AM
Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Readers, brace yourselves.

There appears to be a connection – not just a connection, but a DIRECT CORRELATION – between my intake of desserts and… GASP! – my fat.

More specifically, the fat of my stomach.

How could it be???


I admit, unlike 99% of girls in America, I never EVER had to worry about what I ate because I had the metabolism of a gazelle. (Let’s assume for the sake of this blog, since I’m too lazy to research it, that gazelles have excellent metabolism, k?) I would always eat about twice as much as everyone around me, twice as often, and I always stayed skinny as a string bean.

My stepmother, who is not Jewish and doesn’t understand why people would want to eat a lot ‘just because,” would complain often about how much we ate as kids. But, looking back, I can see her point. We weren’t just “big eaters” – My brother & I? – we literally would have eaten her & my father out of house & home if we had stayed there longer than every other weekend and Tuesday nights.

My eating habits only grew as I went to college and discovered that my ability & desire to eat was matched only by my inability to discriminate amongst all the college buffet extravaganza had to offer. Freakishly, my freshman year roommate was EXACTLY like me, in that she was naturally skinny, never had an eating disorder, and she could and often would eat more than three times her weight at any given sitting.

On a typical evening at Yale Freshman Commons (where the entire Yale freshman class ate), Bika & I would make sure to get there right as the doors opened. We’d jet over to the omelet line, take over the salad bar, sample all the vegetarian options, and THEN we’d get the rest of our food.

Later, around midnight, we’d generally order pizza. And that doesn’t even begin to include the copious amounts of beer and alcohol I consumed on a nightly basis.

Yes, I did ‘gain weight’ in college. But I didn’t really care – I was tall, naturally thin, and I wasn’t trying to be a model or anything. So – not only did it never occur to me to slow down or learn to eat less; I actually never even made the correlation between ‘eating a lot of crap and sugar and food in general,’ with ‘getting fatter.’

I mean, I “knew” that’s what happened, but I never really knew it – if you know what I mean.

Readers, I’m ashamed to say that before I went on my 40 day dessert fast? I was working on a blog about how a chocolate diet could actually WORK.

To help someone lose weight.

I even ran my brilliant idea past my co-workers and had already started dreaming about my runaway success as an author who finally introduced a diet into the market that included CHOCOLATE and WEIGHT LOSS in a single directive.

Then… something small shifted in me, out there in the ocean… and I acknowledged that I needed to stop eating so much chocolate. For emotional, addictive reasons.

And when I did…

I lost my belly fat.

It was amazing.

Until… lately. I’ve been eating desserts again. And while it’s not at the same obsessive clip as during pre-my 40 day dessert fast life… I’ve already noticed a pooch around my middle that was absent the prior month.


Time to go surfing again.


Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

Dang!! I could have sworn I was onto something big!

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