Health, Life

Why I’m Eating a Vegan Diet

For the past year, I’ve been working on losing the 25lbs I put on after my wedding. Yes, you read that right: 25lbs on my already chubby frame. On January 1, 2017, I was the heaviest I have ever been in my life. I liked to fake affection and refer to it as my “happy weight”: I married the guy I’ve had a crush on since I was 5, we both have good, stable jobs, and we’re saving for a house. It’s easy to joke and talk about how happy we are, but when I’m truly honest, I know it wasn’t happiness that started my downward spiral.

A month after our wedding in 2015, my husband and I were visiting London for an international congress that our church organization was hosting. There were members from all over the world, and it was truly an amazing time of sight-seeing, meeting fellow believers from around the world, and experiencing the meetings.

After my husband left London to go back to our home in Brooklyn and his job, I was headed to a friend’s wedding in Northern Ireland. I was sitting in a hotel room the day before my flight when my husband texted me.

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Life

Why I Learned to Date Myself

I have a confession: as I write this, I’m sitting on my couch, drinking a to-go Banana Royale milkshake from an amazing burger bar just a few minutes down the road from my house. The restaurant is one of my favorite places to eat; they have gourmet burgers, fries, shakes, and drinks. My favorite burger combination is a turkey burger with Swiss cheese, mayo, avocado, lettuce, and I like to add on a fried egg. My side is usually sweet potato fries with a yogurt dipping sauce. My fruity drink is a coke with grenadine.

My husband isn’t a fan of said burger bar. He says the service is slow, the burgers are piled too high (“I can’t pick it up”), and it’s too expensive (“Fries are extra? What is this?”). Now, all of his points are valid: we could get cheaper, faster burgers with fries included somewhere else, but it’s still my favorite. So I save it for date night.

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Life, Marriage

I Fail at Birthdays

This past week was one of my favorite, low-key holidays: Valentines Day. Now, this wasn’t always on my list of favorites, especially thinking back to the single-girl days when I wouldn’t even get notes from admirers (let’s face it, I didn’t have any). But having spent the past 7 valentines days in a committed relationship, I love it. My husband knows the exact flowers I love, has some sort of chocolate-covered sweet delivered (which I promptly eat half of and wish I had saved some), and we usually plan some sort of meal/celebration around the holiday. He knows that displays of affection like that are part of my love language, and he does a great job at making me feel special.

Then February 15th hits, his birthday, and every year I feel like I fail at showing him the same love he’s shown me just the day before.

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