"Um, hi, I'm Andrea and I'm, uh, addicted to peanut butter and jelly Quest bars."
In unison: "Hi Andrea!"
Quest bars. Love 'em or hate 'em, they're the protein bar everyone on the interwebs has an opinion on. In my own lil internet circle, the scale seems weighted towards luv. I had heard about how their macros were awesome and their taste was hnnnnngggg (by which I mean to say, delicious) long before I ever tasted one. Then I had my surgery and there--in a sweet care package sent to me by a friend I'd never actually met--they were, complete with helpful instructions to nuke them for ten seconds or so for maximum awesomeness. The first time I tried this, I stuck one in the microwave without removing the wrapper. The foil wrapper. OMG I WAS ON NARCOTICS, WHAT DO YOU PEOPLE WANT OF ME?
Well, when I had one that I didn't actually almost set on fire, I wasn't overwhelmed. I might have been slightly underwhelmed. At the least, I was whelmed. I chalked this up to my taste buds being somewhat funky after surgery/anesthesia. Only certain foods appealed to me. (Hence the eighteen Chobani yogurts and the diet ginger ale in my first postop grocery cart.) I decided to withhold my verdict on the whole Quest bar experience till a later date.
Sometime this spring a later date came to pass. I was buying something else online and I needed to spend a little more money for some discount or free shipping or a gift with purchase or whatever other incentive the clever retailer had come up with to induce suckers like me to drop more cash, so I threw in a few Quest bars in different flavors. Some were good. Some were meh. Some had sugar alcohols in them that made me unfit to go out in polite society. And then there were the peanut butter and jelly ones. OMG.
I don't know what it is about these things. They're the texture of playdoh, basically, and the color of a breastfed newborn's poop. They have so much fiber in them they're pretty much a rotor router for my colon. They look like something you'd feed the prisoners in a futuristic prison. Well, except in a futuristic prison they'd be made of people. Something like that.
They're delicious. I keep buying the boxes of twelve and eating them in a week. It's like my secret shame. A vaguely food-like substance that only marginally tastes like what the flavor on the label promises and I eat two a day till they're all gone. But but but...20g of protein and 17g fiber each, yo.
Somebody help me.
Anyway! While I wait for my intervention, I'll share with y'all a recent pic I really love. I have a couple of vintage dresses, one of which I particularly love because not only is it extremely cute, it has sentimental value. Sadly, for the last couple years, they've both been too big and just living in my closet. I tried them on again a couple weeks ago and to my shock, they're now wearable again. I've finally grown enough lat to take up the space that used to be taken up by my boobs when I was ten-fifteen pounds heavier. Woo! My friends asked for pictures.
Shoulders not looking too shabby.
Maybe it's the Quest bars.