Contemplating the end of butter in my life?

Okay, not really. I love butter. The fact is, though, that I love it maybe too much. And full-fat sour cream, and full-fat yogurt, et cetera et cetera. I am quietly appalled that my parents did not expose me to this (fully). I was able to at least get ahold of the stick stuff at G-ma's house, but it didn't taste particularly good to me, having laid out on the table all day...now, it amazes me that I ever lived without it.

As days get longer, though, I start to realize that the days of swimsuits and shorts are close at hand. And that I can't fit comfortably into many of my pairs of jeans. This saddens me. I'm not basing my self-worth on my weight, but I am cheap and don't want to buy new clothes. I don't feel like I need to hide my body, but at the same time, I'm not too keen on expressly showing it off anymore.

Two culprits here: butter fat. Sendentary job.

This is not the complete end of butter, but I need to cut back. Good-bye, full-fat Brown Cow everyday (sniff). Good-bye, mindless eating. Hello olive oil spritzer thingy. Hello six a.m. exercise (I hope and pray).

Man, I hate posts like these. I sound like every two-bit whiny dieter out there.

At least the Farmer's Market will be back in a few months and I will have exciting finds to talk about. I can't wait.