Growing up in my family “eating healthy” meant there’d be a tiny dry chicken breast and a plop of plain rice on the dinner plate that night. I groaned every time my parents announced a new health kick. Instead of Pop-Tarts, there’d be plain Cheerios and I could bet within the week they’d try pushing “fruit” as a dessert. My brother and I prayed for the day they’d fall off the dieting bandwagon and we could go cheerfully back to consuming a diet rich in processed sugar and high fructose corn syrup.
I’ve never been the kind of girl who craves raw veggies and experiments with hummus, sprouts, or quinoa. I’m the kind of girl who breaks a sweat saying no to carbs and avoids cupcakes by closing my eyes and counting to ten. Eating healthy is a challenge for me and most of the time it takes a conscious effort to run the race at all, let alone with endurance.
