Super Bowl Sunday is fast approaching, folks! Even if you don’t care about football (hello, it’s me) you probably care about Super Bowl parties, because snacks. Snacks and drinks. That’s all we’re really here for, right? To be frank, though, I’m kind of over the quintessential “Super Bowl snack.” No hate on buffalo wings, but they just seem a little old hat.
I want to talk about fall today. I don’t care if I’m branded as basic for saying this: I LOVE FALL. I love EVERY PART OF IT. I love brisk, crisp days made cozy by thick sweaters and warm-but-still-fashionable boots. I love candles with vague names like “Autumn” and “Leaves” and “Hayride.” I love going for walks and stepping on crunchy leaves. I love cider mill donuts and whiskey ciders sipped by crackling campfires. And I also love pumpkin. Unabashedly. Wholeheartedly. Truly, madly, deeply, all of that. I love it.
This week, after two and a half years of eating mindfully, I finally reached my goal weight. That means that I’m 22 pounds down from where I was at my heaviest in 2014. Exciting, right? I felt like I should have been excited when I stepped on the scale, but then I came to the staggering realization that, even though I focused on getting there for so long, I just didn’t care about that number anymore. Why?