Diary of a Habyt babe PT. 3
By Kate Holland - a Habyt member
The other day, my younger sister informed me that the kids these days are using the phrase "lookin' like a snack" to describe an attractive person. Apparently, this implies that the person looks so good that the other person wants to eat them. When I was a kid, the only "snack" I've ever had eyes for was Little Debbie, and maybe Drake (both the cake and the rapper, although he was Jimmy from Degrassi back then). I blame my mother for this, because although she lovingly packed me homemade lunches all through high school, there would always be a tasty treat at the bottom of my brown paper bag. To my mom's credit, she did everything possible to make the healthy options, also included in said brown bag, seem appealing. She would cut apples into slices and serve them with a scoop of peanut butter, she would pre-peel oranges, and more than once she cut my grapes into halves (still not sure why). But let's face it, the baby carrots never stood a chance against the Cosmic Brownies.
Despite the fact that I am now a fell-fledged adult living in New York City, my mother still insists on sending me food. I think this is because I once made the mistake of taking her to a grocery store in Manhattan and she is still in sticker shock. My dad occasionally works in the city, so my mom will have him drop off tote bags full of snacks of my apartment. As a result, I usually have a pantry bursting with foods imported from the far off land of New Jersey. However, at the start of my Habyt journey, I conducted the Great Pantry Purge of 2018. I took out every item in my pantry and donated everything that didn't serve my new lifestyle. Some of the items I got rid of included: multiple taco meal kits, several cans of frosting, enough vodka sauce to open an Italian restaurant, instant ramen, Captain Crunch, and a box of Fruit Rollups that practically had to be pried out of my hands.
My general rule was that if the item could survive for years in a bunker built to withstand the zombie apocalypse, it probably doesn't have much to offer in terms of nutritional value (although we probably won't care about our diets when we are on the verge of becoming a part of someone else's diet). I even got rid of seemingly harmless items, like white rice and canned soups. With Christina's help, I restocked my pantry will new items and exotic (to me) items like ghee, flax seed, and coconut flour. Mostly thanks to Trader Joe's, my pantry now includes the following ThinHabit approved staples:
Cauliflower rice
Coconut oil spray
Powdered peanut butter
Balsamic vinger
Lite brie cheese (who knew?!)
96% fat free ground beef
I went so far as to transfer all my spice into matching containers and make my roommate's boyfriend hang a shelf above the stove so that I can display them. My ThinHabit starter kit came with a food scale, which I keep on the counter. I am now the owner of every size and shape of tubberware ever manufactured. I also accidentally ordered two dozen mason jars from Amazon, so now my pantry looks so artisanal than it should probably move to Brooklyn. My mom even got on board, and when my dad came into the city last week, the delivery tote was filled with boxes of quinoa and bags chia seeds.
In a matter of days, my pantry went from looking like a vending machine exploded to being Goop approved. Since I wasn't able to reach into my cabinet and grab a Pop-Tart, I was forced to think about what I was eating. In order to hammer home how big of a change this was for me, I'll leave you with this anecdote: Midway through high school, the administration removed all the obvious junk foods from the vending machines and replaced it with boring crap like granola bars and pretzels. I seized the gap in the market and started selling Hostess snacks out of my locker. I'd go to the Dollar Store and stock up on things like Twinkies and Dunkaroos, and then sell them at premium. I would actually smuggle the junk food in my Vera Bradley tote bag and pass the goods to friends who would dole them out between classes. The profit margin was great, but thug life just wasn't for me (although TastyKate would have been a great trademark).
The reality is that in order to "look like a snack," you can't just snack on things purchased exclusively from the bodega located under your apartment. Putting a little effort into what you eat is a long term investment in your wellbeing. Instead of eating whatever discounted holiday-shaped Reese's candy you bought at the drugstore, you can make your own dark chocolate peanut butter cups and know exactly what you are putting in your body. I'll never give up snacking, but I'm okay with there being fewer cartoon mascots involved.
