A bonus-ing we will go!

It’s Christmas time! And you know what that means…eggnog, presents under gloriously decorated trees, and perhaps a little extra in your direct deposit. Wait, is that still a thing?

I honestly can’t remember what it feels like to be a part of a company that does bonuses, being as I’ve been out of the banking game for about six years now <– and those were based on performance, mostly, so you had to do things to get em. And not to get all National Lampoon-y on you, even though ’tis the season and all, but Clark was on to something when he yelled at his boss. He really was!

We are entering an era where employee engagement and retention of top notch worker bees is becoming cruuuuuucial. And not to get all HR on you, because dat’s my liiiiiife, but in the time of Google and Facebook and Starbucks, upping your boss game is more than just with moola. But, let’s say you do get a fatty little bump at the end of the year, in the form of the ever-sought-after B-O-N-U-S. What then?

See, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what I do with my monies. Maybe it’s because I sit on the board of DVSAS and it stays active and changes lives in our community because of the generosity of the upper crust and the medium crust and you know what, the whole damn pie. I think about how there was a time my boys were only unwrapping gifts from family because there wasn’t enough to feed them AND get them a toy. I know that now, where we are in our lives, we can reach out and  help in so many ways. Except, it can be overwhelming, especially if you don’t have three zeros after your first number in whatever check you may be writing and that makes you feel bad. Maybe you don’t even know where to start because you want to help ALL the peoples.

Is that you? Do you feel like you just don’t know when or how? Well, you’re in luck, because I haven’t had much luck in sleeping lately, so my mind did most of the work for my friends. Here’s what I came up with, with hopefully something for those who maybe just have $5 to give.

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Idea #1: A charity that speaks to your heart

Now, this will take a little work on your end, so I apologize in advance, but here’s what I recommend: Sit down, take some deep breaths, and think about the valleys of your life. The low times, the hard times, the I-would-rather-not-think-about-that-time-of-my-life times. It might make you emotional, it might even make you mad, but take that energy and GET OUT THE GOOGLE. Mad-type your problem into the search bar and hit freakin ENTER like you’re lighting something on fire. Because you are. It could be a time when you were homeless or close to it, battling an addiction or watching someone battle one, domestic violence (oh, there are my heartstrings, alive and well), it could be you wanting to play a youth sport but your parents couldn’t afford it, maybe it was a puppy you begged for every year but never received, or how about if you just didn’t have healthy meals on the daily because you could barely afford food. Now, if you’re in Whatcom County, that could look like this:

Lydia Place, DVSAS, The Lighthouse Mission, Boys and Girls Club of Whatcom County, Whatcom Humane Society, Bellingham Food Bank, Northwest Youth Services , etc.

You could literally donate $5 and begin making a difference.

Idea #2: Support Political Action

It’s no surprise that for so many 2017 has been a let-down of a year. If you aren’t in that boat and you don’t feel any sort of ill-feelings toward the political state of our country, go ahead and skip on down to idea #3, because this one won’t speak to you. It’s been a trying set of months of who is a pre-existing condition, what women can or can’t say about their bodies, #metoo, and so on. Use your dollars like you would your voice because even your George Washington can come in hot, yelling like a CRAAAAAZY, just like you. Some great places to start are: Planned Parenthood (and please do so in Mike Pence’s name), DACA (because I’m not up for squashing anybody’s dreams, most certainly not those of the innocent), American Civil Liberties Union, Human Rights Org, National Assoc for the Advancement of Colored People, GLAAD, and so on. We cannot let those who don’t look like us, think like us, pee like us, etc get the better of us.

Idea #3: Education is going to change a world <– yours or whoever else’s. Someone’s world. It’s going to be changed. Let it be because of you.

If you can read this, thank a damn teacher. I mean it. Send a huge effin round of applause to the ladies and men who are there with our kiddos on the daily, listening to them drone on about whatever is important to them at the time. Who were also there for you. Yes, they aren’t perfect but neither are we and so they still deserve it. You can do any of the following and I’m sure tears would be shed: Donate to a PTO, whichever is closest to you, or at the school you went to, or stop in to a school one day and ask to pay some money on a student’s lunch bill. Because everyone needs to eat to be able to focus in class and some kids are in NEED OF FUNDS. I hope you all clapped that out with me, because I typed it HARD as if I was clapping. This is essential. Just take a Jackson in and find the office, ask where you can pay money on lunch accounts and hand it over. It will feel INCREDIBLE. Or you could buy a gift card at a store like the Dollar Store so the teachers, who make so little and still use their OWN MONIES to supply whatever is needed in their classroom and hand it to your kiddos educator. Or your neighbor’s kiddos educator. They are in abundance but their account balances are not. Again, even $10 could change someone’s world.

Idea #4: Listen

One day I was in Safeway and I did what every normal person does when I was ready to checkout. I scanned all the lines and picked the shortest one because #duh. I put all my items on the belt and waited patiently. I think I may have even texted Kulia something, because phones distract me from boring moments. I noticed I wasn’t moving even though I was next in line and I looked up to see the gentleman in front of me digging in his pockets and then choose an item to return. He nervous laughed and said he wasn’t sure how much his debit card would allow and so he asked the cashier to key in $20 and see if it would take. It did but he had a balance of $4.50 and all he had was milk, eggs, bacon and some other staple items. He was about to pick another item to put back when I handed a $5 bill to the kind lady and said, “Here. Please use this.” When he realized what had happened, he turned beet red because he was embarrassed. I felt bad for him when he turned to thank me over and over. It was such a small amount of help and he was so grateful and what I’m trying to say is, if I would have been stuck on my phone and not paying attention, I couldn’t have said yes to helping someone. Often times we hear of people paying it forward in coffee lines or things of the sort, but you can do it almost anywhere and I encourage you to be open and ready for it. I especially would like to throw out there that helping an elderly person at a store is monumental. They almost all live on set incomes that aren’t increasing with inflation. Help them out, friends.

Well, peeps, there you have it. Four but really 100 ways (because what’s life without a little exaggeration) to do something with your bonus. Or your fiver that you may or may not just spend on a coffee for yourself. Every little bit helps and I do mean every little bit. Don’t do what I did for so many years and think that because I don’t have thousands to hand out that I couldn’t partake in giving. And if you truly don’t have even $1 to help, I believe you but I ask this: Give your smiles. Show kindness to your fellow Earth-mates. Connect eyes and show some care. Genuine care. Even to the people panhandling on the streets and most especially to them.

Merry Christmas, you jolly bunch of non-a-holes. I love you all. And if you decide to buy yourself a pool, I won’t hold it against you.

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Vee 2.0

Have you ever looked at yourself, fresh out of bed, with sideways hair and sheet creases on your face and thought, “Where the eff did I take a wrong turn?”

This was me. Almost two years ago I sat down with myself and I said, “Self. Let’s do this. Let’s go all the eff out, balls to the walls, and buckle down and get it done.” I was talking about my choices in life, that albeit were fun and all, but they weren’t always healthy. I knew I needed to get moving. I can’t change my ass by sitting on it, right?

The thing is, a friend had asked me to join her and start making an effort to lose some ellllllbeeees and after I gasped (HOW DARE SHE?! Where’s the GIRL CODE?) and got over my damn self, I realized she was right. I was the queen of hiding behind the camera, smacking a kid right in front of most of me, of the perfect angles, or just taking it chest up. You were either getting close ups or inauthentic Vee. That’s just the damn truth.

Sometime in these past two years, I got busy. Like, way busy. Busier than usual. A lot of it was my own fault, and Ku often jokes that I get restless when my plate isn’t overflowing (well, duh, I AM LATINA). While I admit that is partially true, the reality is that last year I handled it pretty well, considering. I was really kicking ass (my own) at keeping with my commitment to change my lifestyle and share it with my friends. I was posting progress photos and just feeling so damn empowered and strong. Strong as all get out. Ubes strong.

And then something changed inside of me. I started to let my overflowing plate create a shadow in my mind. Slowly and then all of a sudden, working out wasn’t my priority. Clean eating went out the window. A cheat every now and then became every damn day. EVERY.DAMN.DAY. I recognized it happening and kept telling myself it was ok. I deserved it. I could take a break and it would be fine because who is anyone to judge me?

Except, I was judging myself. All of my shame gremlins that I had worked so hard at shutting up started to grow and get louder. I mean, visually that is how I see it. These little nasty creatures that chase me and bog me down with self-loathing. I mean, Grinch, get out da way! I am giving him a run for his money! I constantly tell Ku how upset I was with myself, how ugly I felt, how I was just ballooning (I mean, quite literally) back to the old Vee. I stopped posting about my self-care because it would have been a lie. I wasn’t working out, I was eating whatever I damn well wanted to and I was sure as hell not trying to post progression photos. Who would even want to see that? Wouldn’t I just be proving everyone right? I mean, especially myself. I was already in a funk. Can you imagine what posting a reverse transformation would have felt like to me?

The thing is, motivation is a sword. It’s either a tool or taking your life.

So, where am I today? I’m in student mode. Learning. I learned, so far, that it takes waaaaaaay more work to lose inches and pounds than it does to pack it back on. No matter how you do it, no matter how you did it, it’s coming back if you stop. I think I told myself I just had to put the time in now, because I’ve given enough of my life to being unhealthy and overweight, and I could rest. I told myself if I spent 14 months eating healthier and being conscious of what I ate that I could just have a good ole time with food for three. Now I’m learning that fun is a sometimes thing, not every minute of your day. I’m learning that self-love is always a work in progress, just like the rest of me. I’m learning that I have to start over because I clearly stopped at some point. And I’m learning that nobody will ever judge me as harshly as I judge myself. I think, anyways.

So, why put this out there again? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I don’t fit in my clothes anymore and you might start noticing me wearing the same things in all my pics, or maybe because you’ve wondered and I feel like I owe you all some super, SUPER awkward authenticity…

Or maybe it’s because you might feel a lot of what I’ve been thinking and you’re thinking mean things about yourself and trust me, you are not alone. Over the past two-ish years I’ve had the honor of having some pretty damn phenomenal ladies in my workout groups and you know what?

I’m joining hands, linking arms and taking the plunge with my fellow boss babe, Erin, to get you back on track. Because we are getting back on track and we freaking need you. We need fellow friends on our side who also want to be uplifted and cheered on. Do you need a little nudge, some love pats and a program that will help you get that ball moving again? Or moving for the first time?

Reach out to us. Send a message. You can even start it with some BS like “Hi!” We will get there. We will get you on board and more importantly, we will show you some love. Being unhappy with yourself is hard. We get it. Mostly because we are there, too.

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Oct 2014                                         Aug 2017                       Sept 2017                                                                

Three days of getting (re)fresh, as told by Vee

Guess who’s going to Hawaii in three sleeps (read: today)!!?!?!?! This beezy RIGHT HERE!!! My brother-in-love is getting hitched, saying I do, and bidding farewell to that bachelor life that he always made look so friggin fun. We are so excited! And you know what Hawaii means? It means you’ll be on a beach at least once, probably spending some hours at a pool, and wearing a lot less clothes than you have been for the last ten months because Washington gave you the longest winter in all of history. So you do a reality check, realizing that birthday month was a treasonous time in your life and you acknowledge that every article of clothing you wear now fits snug (read: tight) and you haven’t even worked out recently. As in at least a week. I figured it’s never too late to recommit to your health journey, so I ordered myself a 3-Day Refresh from my fave peeps down at Beachbody and read the rules yesterday to get ready.

Now, what is the refresh? First off, it’s a fancy schmancy title for a cleanse that restricts dairy, meats (read: proteins) and treats (read: wine) for a whole effin 72 hours. Doesn’t that sound like a nice cup of “stab me repeatedly with a fork for three days?” Needless to say, we ate pizza, drank wine and had fudge chocolate treats Sunday. We are the worst kind of cleansers. It is three daily shakes, a fiber drink, an ocean of filtered water, and rationed portions of fresh fruits and veggies. THAT.IS.IT. And here is an unbiased account of the ordeal:

Day 1: Today I woke up at 7 after hitting snooze an eff ton of times. I didn’t want to get out of bed. My eyes were so heavy. When you can finally manage to haul your bloated ass out of bed, you’re supposed to drink around 10 ounces of water to get your system (does this mean your digestive track? Like, get ready to poop?) going. I had a water bottle by the side of my bed but I had gotten thirsty at night so I estimate it only had around 6 in it. That may or may not be remotely right. I’m a horrible estimator of liquids. Suffice to say I drank the water and felt it hit the PITS of my stomach. Of COURSE I would wake up on day one of my refresh starving. Typical.

Within an hour of waking you drink your first shake. Yay there because I love my shakeo! Except I didn’t drink it on time because it’s frowned upon to show up to work ugly. And when I rushed to make it, I started out with too much water and not enough ice so it was a weird texture and consistency (super watery) so it felt like I was drinking super diluted iced coffee (I am drinking the vegan café latte for this). It didn’t feel like breakfast, when my shakeo normally does. Along with the shake you eat your first installment of fruit. Up first on the menu is a cup of cantaloupe that I actually measured! That’s already a win because I try to eyeball everything. My one downfall? I forgot to eat the fruit at the same time as I was drinking my shake. When I remembered I could have it, I SNARFED it down in two seconds. You guys. A cup of cantaloupe is just enough to make you CRAZY hungry but not enough to make you even feel like you ate. Throw on top of that a work lunch I’m planning so I was on the Fred Meyer’s catering website looking at pictures of baked chicken, fried chicken, sushi platters, sides. This is torture to the umpteenth degree. I am never as hungry as when I tell myself I’m doing something to feel better. Every time I think I need food I make myself guzzle some water. PS, I’ve gone to the bathroom six times and I’ve only been up for four hours. And because I can’t stop thinking about how empty my stomach feels, I set a timer on my phone for when I can have my next shake, which is the Vanilla Fiber Sweep. I foresee more bathroom breaks. Yikes.

Vanilla Fiber Sweep is done. I drank it fast because I’ve read other people’s accounts of the flavor of it so I was anticipating liquid death. I chugged it SO FAST because almost everyone says you can’t let it sit for more than a few minutes or it changes into a fire-breathing dragon that promptly makes you it’s meal. Shit, that dragon would be getting more of a mouthful than I currently am. Good news, there was no time to let anything evolve into anything dangerous and I basically shot-gunned a really tasty drink. I would equate it to an original orange Julius, which is doubly bizarre, being as it’s vanilla. The deed is done, either way and now I have to wait at least an hour before I can have my lunch. Yes, there’s another timer set and yes, I am going to drink more water.

1:00: Lunch time. FINALLY. I mixed my vanilla fresh shake, took my rhubarb salad out that I made yesterday, grabbed my baggie of strawberries and filled my water. I was making myself wait a little longer because somehow that felt much less dramatic. I mentally told myself I would eat slow and savor every bite because 2/3 cup of rhubarb salad IS NOT REALLY EVEN ONE BITE OF FOOD, that I would not down my shake like it was a margarita. YOU GUYS. I’m a liar liar pants on fire and lunch was inhaled in less than three minutes. It’s been less than an hour since and not ONCE did my stomach feel like it had anything in it.

2:23: I found a little Styrofoam box of pad-see-uw in the mini fridge from lunch last week Friday. I heated it up and told myself I would only have a few bites because I NEED FOOD. I picked out the broccoli and ate it because broccoli is allowed on the refresh even though I’m almost positive its not allowed when it has a delicious sauce on it (I’ll just double check what the list of guilt-free flavorings says about that) and told myself I wasn’t cheating. Then I told myself I could have two bites of rice noodle and that would be it. I then had four little bites because I can’t be trusted and then threw the box away because otherwise it was about to be shoved into my pie-hole (yum, pie sounds AMAZING) and because I started to get angry with myself. I am only seven hours into this shit-show and I’ve already messed up. This is why I have jelly-belly and this is why I have more than one chin. Send BOSS BABE vibes this way, because I need all.of.them. Now I’m drinking water and pissed.

4:00: I ate a teaspoon of almond butter and downed 700 ounces of water, at least. I’m not even exaggerating here. I feel empty but I don’t feel EMPTY. See, I’m so hungry ish isn’t even making sense anymore.

4:50: My iWatch just told me to stand up. That’s fine since I HAVE TO PEE ANYWAY.

6:00: I’m at my son’s baseball game and I have to urinate so bad that I have lower back pains. Ku texted me beforehand and asked if I wanted her to bring me strawberries and my response was something like, “Yes, I can have 12. And if you think you might want some also, please bring more than 12 because I need ALLMYSTRAWBERRIES. I texted that to my wifey, friends. And she didn’t throw fruit at my face when I got to the game and she didn’t threaten to leave me. I want to add that the fact she even stuck around the rest of the night without yelling PEACE and throwing her hands in the air is AMAZEBALLS. I would have run for the hills.

10:00: Went to bed listening to the relaxing sounds of my STOMACH GROWLING and some pretty horrendous releases of gas. Today sucked. I realized I am completely emotionally addicted to food. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have been such an effin sourpuss all damn day. I may need more than 3 days to break this.

DAY 2

7:00: Woke up and said, “I’m starving,” right out the gate and then realized that wasn’t actually true. My stomach hadn’t even said good morning. It was when I downed my 10 ounces of water that I remembered my stomach had a bottom. All that water found it, quick. I also didn’t drink my shake within that first hour. I’m a natural rule breaker. I just can’t help it. PS, I ALSO forgot to eat the fruit at the same time again. Frick!

1:00: I’ve not stopped thinking about food and how hungry I am. I had to pick up lunch for the office, which is straight out of chapter one in the book of “Ultimate Corporal Punishment for your Subordinates.”

1:30: Got to the office with the FRIED CHICKEN, BAKED CHICKEN, BBQ CHICKEN, MACARONI SALAD (I love macaroni salad. I friggin LOVE IT) and POTATO SALAD. I don’t know why I just yelled that. I ran to my office and grabbed my effin rhubarb salad and my water and joined my co-workers in the conference room with every intention of not straying. And then five minutes later I had a sliver of bbq chicken and one teaspoon of macaroni salad in my container and I ate it super slow. I savored EVERY BITE and then got upset because I have done some pretty hard shit in my life. Why can I not control what goes in my mouth?

9:00: I told myself I was going to have a hard boiled egg because I’m certain not consuming protein is a death wish. There is no way this program knows what it’s talking about. But then I didn’t, so win there! Oh, let’s also throw in that I weighed myself this morning and I didn’t lose ONE OUNCE of weight yet. And somehow that’s determining my success with this. Goodnight, world. I cannot with today, anymore.

Day 3

I woke up this morning, drank my water and felt a little better. I almost just typed refreshed but I refuse to give this program any kudos. Yet.

Some point in the middle of the day: I am not starving. My thoughts are not consumed with food on the constant. I have felt more awake, more able. More in CONTROL and that is pretty phenomenal. The whole day goes by and I’m drinking my water, eating my food, following the plan and not once do I feel deprived today. I’m doing the thing. I’m friggin crushing it!

9:00: Ku and I pack for Hawaii and my whole time home I didn’t think about how I was so hungry and needed dinner now. I had a half a cucumber and felt good. WHAT THE WHAT? We went downstairs after getting a lot of packing done and Ku made some quesadillas and convinced me to have half of one. It was a whole wheat tortilla and some crock pot pork, so I decided to have it. I only ate the half, ate it slow, really enjoyed it and had ONE GLASS of wine. Over the course of two hours. If I won at anything, it was in THAT.

When I woke up Thursday, off the refresh, I didn’t immediately want food. I feel like I look the same, perhaps a touch less bloated. I took my after photos and see it, that the bloat is gone. I want to keep that ish going! Where the real transformation happened is in my mentality about food. I have not forgotten the feeling of absolute emptiness I had on Day 1 and Day 2. I always knew I was an emotional eater; I mean, I’ve been living this life for 35 damn years! Really seeing the grip my nutrition has on me made me realize why I haven’t had more success in my journey. It makes TOTAL.SENSE. Overall, I’m down four pounds. I don’t want them back. I’m cutting those toxic pounds out of my life FOR GOOD because they have been like herpes with my health journey. BE GONE!

I’m not going to say I’m going to be perfect from here on out, because I cannot lie to my friends. I will say that I’m going to try maintain smaller portions, remind myself I do not really need more food or carbs or an eff ton of meat (that was the hardest, giving up my meats. I don’t know how vegetarians do it!) or six glasses of wine. Because all of that has happened.

You want to try the refresh out? Hit me up. I would totally be up for torturing myself alongside you, because who doesn’t want to push the boundaries of just how much your loved ones will put up with. AMIRIGHT?!?!

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Island Time

Before I dive into explaining Island Time and all that it entails, I want to disclaim the following:

I am not a chef.

I’m not even a real cook.

I’ve had zero professional training.

I most DEFINITELY am not a nutritionist.

Not a wine sommelier.

*

When I was five years old, my parents did something they had been working towards, dreaming about, saving for. They opened their own business, a Mexican restaurant. I remember moving to a small city, in the middle of nowhere to a place that didn’t even have a stop light. It smelled of cow manure and the American Dream and we were knee deep in it.

It was a small place, just full of hopes and ownership. They did all the work themselves, at least from what I can recall. They painted, made brick archways on the walls, hung some tropical ceramic birds from the ceiling, bought some fake plants, set up a used cash register. There was endless days of cleaning and preparing and I can remember most of it. The opening day, though? It’s nowhere in my mind. Maybe I wasn’t privy to be there or maybe it happened while I was in school. All I know is that one day it was a “soon” and the next it just “was.”

In no time or maybe plenty of time it was a happening place and had created a buzz around our tiny hometown. The food was delicious and the atmosphere was welcoming. I think back to the beginning and I smile, because it was pure. As I grew, the restaurant grew. I think about it in terms of falling asleep. It was gradual and then all at once. My days revolved around enchiladas, rice and beans, burritos and so on. Within five years we had outgrown the cozy dwelling on Front street and we moved closer to the Canadian border, away from our roots.

In all its growth and all its success, I never found myself in the kitchen. The cooks were rough looking, older, spoke Spanish (unlike me at the time). They were intimidating, deviant looking people that towered over me. I wasn’t one to find myself conversing with them, or them with me. It just wasn’t an acceptable thing. And then the end of sixth grade came. My Dad decided I should spend some time in Mexico, with some family, so I could learn my culture, my language, my roots. And off I went.

I lived in Chihuahua, Chihuahua (yes, that’s a place) for a little over a year. I attended seventh grade there. It was a literal sink or swim for me, in terms of communicating with anyone. Naturally, I began to really understand Spanish. More than that, and more rewarding, was understanding this foreign notion to me. family time. With the business, my parents were so busy. We had limited time for family meals or hanging out. It’s just how it was and it was all I knew, really. Mexico, though. It was amazing and harsh and scary and fun. My Aunt and Uncle taught me so much with so much love and patience.

My Aunt Celia was a phenomenal cook. She would get up early in the morning and make her two older kids and myself breakfast. She would pack me a lunch. We would all sit and have dinner together. She was the first to show me how to make homemade salsa, Mexican rice, enchiladas. I taught her how the cooks cut onions and tomatoes faster (I was watching, if anything). She was everything you could ask for in a teacher, but the reality was that I only enjoyed eating the food. That’s the truth! I never found the joy in cooking like she did.

When I came back to the states, I began to pick up on certain assumptions that people made when you tell them your parents owned a restaurant. The most common was they would give me that sweeping look, the one that says, “Oh YEAH they do because you are CHUBBY.” Or, they would ask me if I could cook amazing food. Yes, I was overweight. No, I couldn’t cook. Not like their employees at the restaurant and certainly not like my Aunt Celia. I didn’t want to.

I got married at nineteen years old and kept hearing from my ex MIL that I had to start learning. That I needed to put the food on the table. That it was my responsibility and I think as sort of a big EFFFFF  YOU, I refused. I didn’t want to learn. I wanted boiling water to be near impossible and I wanted to burn all the things. I wanted to make certain foods on repeat EVERY DAY and I wanted cereal for breakfast for the rest of my life. I didn’t want to be fancy. I certainly didn’t care if it was healthy. People deal with depression and anxiety in many different ways and this was one of mine. I had zero control over almost everything so this, this unreasonable aversion to cooking and house-wifing, this I would have on lock down. I wanted to fail and I made it obvious.

When I met Ku, who is a TOTAL FOODIE, my mind woke up. It started to remember what my lovely Aunt had shared with me, things I had seen in my parent’s kitchen, stuff I had seen on TV. My memory started to flash things back at me and this DESIRE to come out of my shell just took over. It’s been on fire since! Not a kitchen fire. A SOUL FIRE. And somehow, somewhere in that, a show was born.

There seems to be this misconception that cooking healthy is boring, bland, blah. It is salads on the daily and baked chicken breast with steamed broccoli. Friends. IT MOST CERTAINLY IS NOT! I promise I’m not making this up. I’ve had this EXACT conversation with NUMEROUS friends! And because of this, I started to put in the work myself and taste test away. I’m SACRIFICING myself for my friends and life has never felt more perfect!

We gave birth to Island Time with Vee (which is this homage to both the island in our kitchen, where we always congregate with family and friends, and a nod to our family in Hawaii, where our true Island time is) from this place of wanting to share healthy, easy recipes with everyone. My whole goal with it has been to keep it light, far from preachy, and fun! I make a show almost EVERY Sunday (sometimes life gets in the way and when that happens, I kick a throwback episode in there) and I bring some wine to the island because WINE IS LIFE, friends. When I can and it makes sense, we go live on my Facebook page to really showcase the simplicity and time saving recipe I found and tried before sharing it with you. There have been times I think something will be delicious and then try it and I’m like THAT IS NOT DELISH AND I CANNOT SHARE IT WITH MY FRIENDS and we scrap the whole thing in the garbage!

This latest episode is a skinny egg salad recipe and it’s easy to customize and AMAZING. Unless, of course, you don’t like eggs and if that’s the case, I don’t know what to say to you! I LOVE EGGS! If anything, watch it for a laugh, because you all know how MUCH I LOVE TO LAUGH. That’s the ONE thing I can promise on each episode! I hope you try it and share your thoughts with me! And the next time I post one of my videos here, I won’t go so deep into my backstory so we can cut straight to the chase!

And PS, the moral of this story is that it is INCREDIBLE how fantastic your food can taste when you use LOVE as your main ingredient. And if you would like to see my other Island Time episodes, find me on Facebook!