The Most Emotionally Terrifying Food

It’s time to come clean with something:  not only am I a complete yoga sculpt addict, I’m also a pusher.  If you’ve had a conversation with me for more than 15 minutes, chances are I’ve asked you to come with me regardless of your physical shape.  I get no financial benefit from this, but rather benefit from combining my three of my top ten favorite things: inspiring people to live healthier lives, building deep friendships and shredding my abdominals.

 

After a nearly a year of friendship and consistent nagging, I finally convinced one of my best friend’s, Nate, to come to a class.  “What is it, like Zumba?” he questioned.  I nearly choked on whatever I was putting into my mouth (because let’s face it, I’m always eating or drinking) and assured him it was pretty much the polar opposite.

 

An hour of sweat, sweat and tears later Nate’s sculpt v-card was revoked and celebratory tacos weren’t just on the radar, they were essential for life.  A couple of showers and protein smoothies later and we were on our way to Rusty Taco to gorge ourselves with the rest of our church lifegroup who were too chicken to partake in class.  Wimps.

 

I’m not going to lie, I was a bit nervous.  I’d never been to Rusty Taco, and while I love anything pertaining to Mexican food, the thought of cheating on my beloved, always faithful Chipotle did make my blood pressure rise.  However, I was greeted with a delightful surprise at the fact that their flagship taco, Rusty himself, was a beautiful combination of pork and pineapple. 

 

The only way I can describe my newfound adoration for both Chipotle and RT is that RT is a stunning, exotic resort where I could relax and multiple times a year if time and resource would allow.  As for Chipotle, my homegirl clad in ruby red sparkly kicks said it best herself: there’s no place like home – I’ll always come back to you, bae.

 

Here’s the thing about sculpt: it torches calories like none other and it speeds up your metabolism to Usain Bolt level, so post sculpt I’ll pretty much eat whatever I want, as long as its not sugar and has 25g+ protein somewhere in the meal.  As we sat around our table and I was pounding warm corn tortilla chips like it was my job, I came to a realization:  I could fit an entire RT tortilla chip in my mouth no problemo.  It was a proud moment, indeed.  Such a monumental revelation in my own life inspired my friend Taylor to a revelation of her own: “Chips are the most terrifying food to eat.  You know at some point they’re going to break, so you never know how much to bite off and are always worried they’re going to either go flying or crumble in your lap.”

 

WOAH SPOT THE LIFE ANALOGY. 

 

Commitment is the chip of life.  Whether it’s a friendship, a relationship, a new adventure that we’re trying to take but are scared out of our minds for – we all struggle to commit. What if we bite off a huge portion of something and it breaks and there’s all of those awkward chip pieces that fall in our laps?  What will happen of those little salt flecks of the relationship or business venture that didn’t work out that we need to awkwardly brush off.  Will the janitorial staff get pissed?   What happens if we bite into it and the pressure caused from the breaking flings the side of the chip off and hits your homie in the forehead?  If you only slightly commit to the chip, eventually one of these options will   Or what if you go for it, shove the whole thing in your mouth, and choke on it?

 

My take is pretty simple: you’ve got a bigger mouth than you give yourself credit for.  With enough maneuvering and the right angles, most of us can fit a whole tortilla chip in our mouths. Once you get yourself to a point where you’re famished – whether for chips or relationships or adventure – you have a decision to make.  Are you going to sit here and be hungry, or are you going to say “screw this, I need to get all of this in me as quickly as possible” and discover all of the empty mouth space you’ve been wasting?

 

I know my answer, and it’s covered in guac.

Kelsey LindellComment