I'm not feeling very bloggy today. Leaves are blowing off the trees out my window at an alarming rate, I am surrounded by tubs and boxes, and my son is a full blown boy, adios babyhood. I should rake the leaves, pack the tubs and watch my son grow up...instead of, you know, discussing mayonnaise.
I used to love mayonnaise. Slather some on a turkey sandwich and my stomach would smile. That is not the case anymore. Early in high school I was at Burger King and realized that you cut the fat in half (IN HALF) on a Whopper if you removed the creamy spread. I started replacing mayonnaise with mustard on everything I possibly could. I still eat potato salad and egg salad and tuna sandwiches (using very little mayo) but I cannot stand to bring out the best foods for anything else.
And when I have to, for the purpose of making my mayo-loving hubby a sandwich, I cringe, hold my breath, and try desperately not to get it on my hands. When a smear appears across my fingers, the gag reflex starts...well, reflexing. I used to love it. L-O-V-E. And now I detest it. All of this was accomplished by the power of my own mind convincing me that I did not need hoards of extra calories, that I could eat two Whoppers for the fat of one (not that I eat two, mind you, cuz I don't), and that the world would be a better place if I stopped eating mayo.
Now, if only I could do this with chocolate.
Celery is the new chocolate. Celery is the new chocolate. Celery is the...yah, it's not working.