God Wants Me to Eat Biscuits

I love biscuits. Any kind of biscuit. Plain. Garlic Cheddar. Cinnamon Sugar. Cheese and Bacon. Buttermilk. Hot and buttery and keep 'em comin'. I think I'm part Southern.


More mornings than I care to admit, I find myself sitting in the McDonald's drive-thru ordering a plain biscuit and a large Diet Coke. This morning was no exception … except that I accidentally received a large Coke by mistake, took a sip, gagged, and had to immediately rectify the situation. I don't like regular, straight up Coke. It makes me gag.

I like a plain biscuit. I don't want sausage or cheese or egg or jelly to get in the way of the biscuitness. Unless I'm at Cracker Barrel. Then I enjoy a dab of strawberry jelly on my biscuit. I'm an enigma.


Biscuitness is wonderful.


A few months ago I decided that my jiggly parts had a little too much jiggle (and not in a good way). I had to do something. Counting calories seemed to be the best choice for me, mainly because there is an app for that and I didn't have to buy any new fangled machines or weird food supplements. Weird food supplements freak me out.


So far, counting calories has worked for me and I owe it all to divine intervention and simple math.


One McDonald's biscuit=260 calories. 
One run on the treadmill for me=260 calories.
One biscuit=one run.


Simple math. Divine intervention.


Huh? 


In addition to biscuits, I love ice cream. I have a bowl nearly every night of the year, but that's a post for another time. My calorie counting has taught me that one should fully expect to have jiggly parts when dining on biscuit breakfasts and nightly bowls of Breyer's ice cream. I know, right? Eye opening, jaw dropping, my-flabber-was-gasted kind of news. Who knew?


In order to reduce my jiggly parts, I had to eliminate about 300 calories from my food intake every day. Folks, it was a quandary. What to give up? 


Biscuits? NO! The horror! I'd be a shell of my former self!


Breyer's? Gasp! NO! I'd die! Life wouldn't be worth living anymore!


It was like Sophie's Choice.


Running on the treadmill for half an hour seemed to be the best option.


One biscuit=one run.


Simple math. Divine intervention.


I can eat my biscuits and my Breyer's and still reduce my jiggly parts. It's proof enough for me that God wants me to eat biscuits and ice cream.

Daily.

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