Macaroni & Cheese for the soul

At 9 last night, I'd had enough. My weekend was literally like a black hole sucking the fun and kick out of my life, and the panic set in. So what did this tubber do? She walked to her kitchen and cooked herself a box of Mac 'n Cheese spirals.
Because that is the comfiest of comfort foods.
My soul needed to feel that cheesy goodness coursing through my system. And yes, that is the lamest excuse in the book, but I don't care.
I promised myself I'd add an extra 10 minutes to my workout, but now I'm thinking that will turn into 20 by the time I actually get to the gym.
Because this blog is quickly turning into a bitch-outlet, I refuse to get into why my weekend was so stressful. Suffice it to say that my grandmother has the beginning of Alzheimer's, and it ain't fun.
But it says something about my eating habits that comfort food means Mac n Cheese.
It was the first thing I learned how to cook, and the first thing my parents trusted me to cook on my own (well, that's a tie with Ramen Noodles). I like it several different ways, but the best is with a spoonful of salsa. Just a little extra kick.
It's bad for you. Incredibly bad for you. Most pastas are, but because the cheese is actually a powder until you mix it with milk, it's even worse.
I think I've had a little SAD this winter, and even though I always feel awesome after going to the gym, I haven't yet hit the guilt stage. I think that's because my life feels like it's a hole right now.
But even now, a day later, I have no guilt over eating a whole box of Mac n Cheese at 9 p.m. on a Sunday. None. Not even a flinch.
I ate better today, and I plan on having a super healthy dinner, but I still don't feel bad about that box.
Maybe it takes a few days for it to set in.