Jenn made the joke that baring our pantries could read totally differently with the omission of one letter. I’ll admit that sending photos of my pantry to a nutritionist did feel slightly like I was going pantless and showing off my under-britches to the world. But we’re nothing if not honest around here, whether we’re talking about our healthiest habits or the ones we need to tweak, like my sugar habit. Plus, I was all for seeing how I could tweak my dry goods stash to make it a bit healthier.

First, a tour of my Lazy Susan. I have additional cupboard space for baking necessities and spices and counter space for bread, but this is the meat of it. It took four turns of old Susan to get it all pictured. At the top of this turn: Canned soups, bread crumbs and two honey bears. I went through a lot of honey and Greek yogurt at the beginning of my pregnancy. Bottom row: Some No Yolks egg noodles, lasagna noodles and evaporated milk that I bought in a six-pack and only used two of for pumpkin pies at Thanksgiving.

Turn two. At the top of this turn, we’ve got sauerkraut and canned fruits. At bottom: Rice wine vinegar, fish oil, cooking wine, sesame and safflower oils (safflower left over from my hubby’s b-day cake. Remember this one?), and mandarin oranges. I also see hot chocolate hiding in there.

Now coming into turn three, we’ve got peanut butter, lite coconut milk, canned tuna and chicken broth. Down below, granola, bouillon granules and cherry Jell-O.

Rounding the corner into the home stretch, we’ve got a lot going on. Up top: Just about every variety of tomato imaginable, fat-free refried beans, green chilies, corn, black beans, garbanzo beans, baked beans. I also spy applesauce. Down below: More egg noodles (there must have been a sale!), whole-grain pasta, orzo and a massive bag of powdered sugar.

So we sent these pictures to nutritionist Keri Glassman, who is working with Arnold/Orowheat Sandwich Thins for its Smart Eating campaign, to get her opinion on what could be tweaked. Here are her suggestions for me!

• Go for natural peanut butter where the only ingredient is peanuts and there is no added sodium or sugar or trans fats.
• I see you have canned tuna. I recommend chunk light tuna and canned salmon.
• Avoid the Jell-O and packaged fruit, instead try frozen berries or just fresh produce.
• Most granolas are still loaded with calories and sugar, you can make your own healthy topping or snack with nuts, dried fruit (in portion control and with no added sugar or sulfur) seeds like sunflower, pumpkin and flax.
• It’s good you have whole-wheat pasta, make sure all your pasta is whole wheat. You can also add in whole grains like quinoa, amaranth and millet. And of course, Arnold/Oroweat 100% Whole Wheat Sandwich Thins rolls are great to have on hand for a quick sandwich.

So really, that wasn’t as painful as I thought it’d be. It’s funny because these suggestions are things I know I should do more of—whole-wheat pasta and other whole grains. Granola? Well, I can guarantee I won’t be making my own any time soon, so I mostly just try to watch portions there. And the Jell-O cracks me up. I think I picked it up one day on a craving-led whim, and I never think ahead far enough to make it because it takes so long to set up. So there it sits, along with two cans of fruit that have been in there since…forever. You can even see the dust on those peaches. The packaged mandarin oranges (sugar-free, in water!) are mostly for the little one in a pinch if I’m running low on other fruits or she needs a super-quick snack.

What items are in your pantry that you know should be swapped out? Anything collecting dust? —Erin

I earned this medal. I also earned the four free beers I drank after the race.

My race did not go as planned.

I met none of my goals (other than the one I set at the start line when I realized I could have used one more trip to the bathroom and vowed to remain in control of my bowels). After the first 6 miles or so, I did not enjoy it. Considering how much work I put into training, it was a serious disappointment.

My Play-by-Play of the ING Miami Half Marathon

Stats: My official time was 2:31:54. I had wanted to finish in under 2:20, and really, really wanted to finish faster than 2:25. It just wasn’t happening. I’d like to blame it on the fact that the course was 13.3 miles according to everyone’s GPS watches, but we all know the extra 0.2 miles didn’t make a huge difference. What did make a difference was the weather—it was unusually hot and humid, even for Miami, so even though there were loads of aid stations with water and Gatorade, a lot of runners struggled, myself included. Here’s the breakdown of what I was thinking throughout the race.

Miles 1-3: I know the causeway is going to be a challenge, but I’m ready for it. It’s a gradual incline, and I feel so strong that it’s no problem. Bummer there are no aid stations until mile 3, but it’s really not bothering me—I feel great. In fact, as I’m looking out over the water at the cruise ships, I’m thinking about how I’d rather be doing exactly what I’m doing than getting on a ship. I realize I can’t stop smiling, but I also can’t stop sweating. For a 3-mile run starting at 6:15 in the morning, I’m soaked.

Miles 4-6: We run over another causeway and hit South Beach. I’m still feeling great and my pace is right on track to finish a little under 2:20—I feel like I could do this forever. As we run by the bars, I’m on the lookout for people just heading home after a night out. I mean, what’s funnier than seeing people all stumbly and tired when I’m busy being so awesome? I decide to eat some Clif Shot Bloks a little earlier than planned because I’ve sweated so heavily, and I’m beginning to feel really, really thankful for the aid stations at every mile. As we round a corner right before mile 6, there’s a huge crowd—they’re loud and excited and I get really emotional. In fact, I start to feel choked up, which makes my breathing erratic, which makes me worry about having an asthma attack. I focus on breathing for the next half mile and keep my running pace under control—I might lose a bit of time, but I’d rather lose a minute now than risk my health. I realize I have some chill bumps, but I assume it’s from the emotion.

Miles 7-9: Holy cow, I cannot get these chill bumps to go away. I take a Gu and start double-fisting Gatorade at the aid stations in an attempt to get my body back to normal. I’m still moving pretty easily, but notice that I’m having to work a lot harder to maintain my pace. I’ve been doing the Galloway method run/walk (4 minutes running, 1 minute walking), and while for the first half of the race, I had to force myself to take the walk breaks, I find myself having to really push hard to run all four minutes. And then, my brain begins to turn on me and all I can think is, if it’s feeling this hard now, what’s going to happen in a few more miles?

Miles 10-12: I hate this. I hate you. I hate everything in the entire world. I hate runners in tutus. I hate runners with better hair than me. What is that person smiling about? Why did I do this? I do my best to stick with my 4:1 pattern, but end up throwing a few extra walks in there. I figure it doesn’t matter because my running pace is abysmal anyway, so who cares if I walk? Of course, then I turn around and yell at myself (silently…mostly) for walking and remind myself that, the more I run, the faster I’ll be done. This is a really fun battle to have, you can imagine.

The last 1.1 (or 1.3, by my watch) miles: Back at mile 8 or 9, there were sponsor flags denoting quarter and half miles. At that point, I didn’t give a damn about half miles. You know when runners start to care about quarter and half miles? WHEN THERE’S A QUARTER OR HALF MILE LEFT. Ahem. The crowd is huge and loud and incredible. There are cheerleaders and bands and people with vuvuzelas, and with what I believe to be about a half mile left, I pick up my pace. Which means that I begin going faster than some of your older tortoises. I don’t feel happy when I cross the finish line—I just feel relief that it’s over.

After getting my medal (which is the coolest medal I’ve ever received, I must admit), I drink all the water and Gatorade I can find. I call my husband, and here’s a brief transcript of the call:

Me: I’m done.

Jared: Congrats! How was it? I’m so proud of you!

Me: I hated it. I was slow. It hurt. I can’t believe I did this.

J: Oh. Umm, I’m sorry? But I’m still really proud of you.

Me: I didn’t poop myself.

J: Good job on that, I guess.

Me: If I ever, ever start talking about how maybe I should do another [expletive deleted] half marathon, please remind me how [expletive deleted] much I hate this distance and how I’d be a [expletive deleted] stupid [expletive deleted] [expletive deleted] to do it again. I mean, this is just [expletive deleted] awful. I [expletive deleted] hate everything right now. [Expletive deleted, and maybe a few more expletives deleted just for kicks.]

J: Uhhh … I love you?

Right. So, this wasn’t exactly the race I wanted it to be. I wanted to do this, love it just as much as I loved the training, and decide that the next step is a half Ironman. Now, I’m leaning more toward just working to improve my times on the 10K and Olympic triathlon distances. And hey, you know, that’s fine. I know there’s nothing wrong with that. But man, I had just hoped for so much more.

And as much as I never want to do this again (as evidenced by the conversation above), I also hate the idea of giving up and quitting that distance on such a horrifically sour note. What would you do? Keep training and try again, or stick to shorter distances that you actually enjoy? —Kristen

My spud babies were delish!

If loving potatoes is wrong, I don’t want to be right. But the only problem with my potato-loving nature is that I like lots of cheese and butter. (Have I ever mentioned I’m lactose intolerant?) Yeah, dairy and I can’t really be friends, but I’ve been stubborn over the years. Fortunately, I just found a new recipe from an old cookbook I had laying around that allows me to enjoy those lovely spuds without having to cram a bunch of crap on them. (And by crap, I mean so much dairy that it will give me the craps.)

This Stuffed Baked Potatoes recipe is cake to make and yummy to boot. I made the recipe my own with a few substitutions and by adding some salsa, too. There’s just something about salsa on a papa that melts my butter.

Stuffed Baked Potatoes

Serves 6

Ingredients
3 large Russet potatoes
1/2 c fat-free cottage cheese
1/2 c fat-free sour cream
1 can (4 oz.) diced green chiles
1/2 tsp garlic salt
1/2 bunch fresh cilantro, chopped
Paprika to taste
Jar of your favorite salsa, optional

Directions

1. Bake potatoes and allow to cool until easy to handle.

2. Slice in half lengthwise and scoop out centers, leaving 1/2-inch rim and set shells aside. Mash potato centers and combine with cottage cheese and sour cream, blending thoroughly. Stir in green chiles, garlic salt and cilantro. Fill potato skins with mixture, sprinkle with paprika and place in 350° oven for 10 to 15 minutes, or until crispy on top.

3. Top with salsa and enjoy!

Do you have any healthier spins on your guilty pleasures? Grumbling tummies want to know! —Tish

Does size really matter? Credit: picto:graphic

We’ve long preached that health, fitness and happiness shouldn’t be determined by the number on the scale. In fact, it’s kind of the FBG philosophy to step on that scale no more than once a week, using it as a gauge for where you are but not enough for fluctuations to ruin your day. My weight can easily fluctuate 5 pounds from one day to the next anyway, so I always pay more attention to if my pants are feeling tight and how I feel in general before I get concerned about the number. I’ve found that my body likes to be around a certain weight (plus or minus that five!), and I just start to feel it when I need to start cutting back on sugar and upping the veggie intake.

Because it’s so ingrained in me to go by how I feel rather than the number on the scale or my pant size, it drives me absolutely bonkers when people talk about their exact numbers—weight, size, waist measurement, etc. It bothered me back when Jennifer Love Hewitt insisted she was a size 2. It bothered me when Kim Kardashian felt the need to prove her jean size. And it bothered me when I came across an article recently about Mindy Kaling’s new book. I haven’t read it, but she apparently embraces the fact that she’s not the stick-skinny Hollywood type. Which is great! But then she confides that she’s a “chubby” size 8, which might make others, like this writer, feel chubby, too, as that’s their size. As I said, I haven’t read the book. Maybe her goal was to make average size women feel more confident. But I wonder if it was truly necessary to get into size specifics at all?

Why should clothing size mean anything anyway? Would you compare your hat size to your friends’? Would you brag about a smaller shoe size? It’s really no different! Depending on the brand and the store, most people can fit a range of sizes anyway—I know I do. People carry weight so differently. Some people have bigger boobs, others carry more in their butts, still others are just bigger boned. So much of a “dress size” depends on height, bone structure and proportion that we shouldn’t even be comparing ourselves. Along the same lines, one person’s happy weight or happy size could be where someone else draws the line. And that’s because every body is different. And that’s okay. Fabulous even!

Comparing humans is like comparing apples and oranges. Or apples and bananas. Or watermelons and pineapples. We’re all wonderful and delicious and come in all shapes and sizes! Does talk of clothing size drive you crazy, too? —Erin 

This was like me on my birthday—except I was in sweatpants and sitting in my living room. Credit: Kashirin Nickolai

Last year, I made a big deal about my birthday. I was turning 30 and entering a new decade, which both excited and terrified me, so I think I really wanted to make it something special to commemorate with friends, family and general overindulgence. But this year? Well, I just turned 31 years old last week, and it was probably one of the quietest birthdays I’ve ever had. Which was just how I wanted it, truly.

I’ve always been one who’s prone to do some self reflection, be it by meditating, reading something inspiring or doing some yoga. And I especially take time out to do so on my birthday. More so than the New Year, I like to look at where I’ve been and set intentions for where I’d like to go—and how I’d like to go there (with more compassion, passion, etc.)—during my next year of life.

Instead of taking a full Saturday or Sunday to do this, which has been my previous modus operandi, this year I took my whole birthday to, well, celebrate myself. As self-indulgent as it sounds (and it was!), I took an entire day off of work (mostly—I did pop in on FBG’s social media here and there) and set up a “schedule” for myself. It went a little something like this:

7 a.m.—Wake up, eat a healthy breakfast involving my Vitamix and leisurely drink coffee
8 a.m.—Chat on the phone with friends and family
9 a.m.—Meditate, read, check email and social media
10 a.m.—Easy yoga
11 a.m.—Watch Oprah, while cutting out images of magazines for my dream board
Noon—Healthy lunch
1 p.m.—Walk the dog
2 p.m.—Make my dream board while listening to pop music, dance wildly from time to time
3 p.m.—Write down my intentions for the year, paste on the back of my dream board and hang in my office
4 p.m.—Do a little work, eat a cookie
5 p.m.—Foam roll, then meditate some more
6 p.m.—Go out to dinner with my husband and have one too many glasses of red wine, plus tiramisu

After dinner? Well, that’s just none of your business on my birthday. Hehe.

The whole day was pretty glorious, I have to say. I didn’t become enlightened or anything, but I feel more focused and ready to take on a new year of life as a slightly more evolved person than I was last year. And, really, isn’t that all you can ask for when it comes to birthdays?

Are you like me? Do you like to reflect and take extra time for yourself on your birthday? —Jenn

Yep, that would be my pantry. A somewhat chaotic mix of this, that and everything in between, it’s where I go for cooking inspiration and, well, storage. (Hey, the organization makes sense to me…)

Similar to an earlier Question of the Week where we peeked into each FBG’s fridge, this week we’re showing you what our pantries look like. (Funny how removing one little letter in “pantries” could make this question totally different.) But, wait, there’s a twist! In addition to just showing our kitchen cabinets off, we’ve also shown them to nutritionist Keri Glassman, who is working with Arnold/Orowheat Sandwich Thins for its Smart Eating campaign, to get her opinion on what’s good and what could be made just a bit better.

But before we share what Ms. Glassman thought of my pantry (I’ll admit this was a bit eek-inducing for me!), let’s look at this mess, shelf by shelf. We’ll start bottom left because that section seems the least cluttered. We’ve got almond milk, canned pumpkin, tomatoes, garbanzo beans, pumpkin pancake mix from Trader Joe’s (how did that get in there?!), tuna, salmon, almonds, corn meal, and two flours that were left over from my gluten-free baking adventure—quinoa and coconut.

Next shelf up, things get a little spicy. (Get it? I kill myself.) There are you usual spice standbys like chili powder, marjoram and basil, but fun stuff like Garam Masala and my favorite cajun-spice blend, Slap Ya Mama. Also co-mingling on this shelf are honey, bread crumbs and rice paper wrappers. I have no idea why.

The two top shelves are pretty boring, so I’m leaving out a photo: sugar, flour, vanilla, baking spices—nothing exciting and mostly stuff that stays up there and out of reach for a reason. But the bottom right shelf? Well, there’s a bevy of tasty. Tamarind paste for when I make pad thai, mango butter (love this stuff on sandwiches and even burgers!), jams, that weird yet incredibly convenient low-sodium chicken broth paste, mushroom powder (for the vitamin D, baby), sea salt, dried beans, barley, couscous, pasta and seaweed for my occasional sushi-making endeavors.

And lastly, there’s the middle-right shelf, which is a cornucopia of more exotic spices. There’s some dry rub for that good barbecue that Kansas City is known for, more sea salt (this kind is for sprinkling on, the other kind is for grinding—common sense would put them on the same shelf, but logic doesn’t always apply in my kitchen), and then a bunch of spices I bought in bulk and on the cheap at a local Indian market. You can see a sliver of the Tandoori powder at the bottom left, and then there are bags filled with curry powder, mustard seeds, coriander seeds, ground cumin and ginger powder. Behind all that is a little sushi rice for previously mentioned sushi-making.

So just what did the nutritionist have to say about my pantry? Well, some good suggestions. In Glassman’s own words…

• You have a lot of good things in there! I see quinoa, pumpkin, herbs and spices and it’s great that you have the mango butter, sea salt, salmon, seaweed and barley!
• Great job with the almonds—let’s add in other nuts for variety like pecans and walnuts. You can also add in more ancient grains like amaranth. I see you have chickpeas, so you might like lentils as well.
• Whole-wheat bread crumbs are hard to find, but you can use wheat germ mixed with flax seeds to coat chicken or fish.

Dude, such great advice! (And I didn’t seem to do too bad, eh? Hooray!) I’m definitely planning to round-out my nut buying (wow, there are a lot of jokes to be made there), work lentils into dishes (she’s right—I love ‘em) and try that wheat-germ-flax-seed combo for coating chicken and fish. Yum, yum, yum. A big thanks to Glassman for the expertise!

What do you think a nutritionist would say about your pantry? Any items that stand out as something Glassman might love—or want to swap out? Dish! —Jenn

Charlize Theron rocks the red carpet. She's kind of my style idol. Credit: HFPA

I might be the sporty tomboy type a good bit of the time, but good grief, do I love watching red carpet arrivals at big award shows. I love picking my best and worst dressed of the evening (from the comfort of my couch, where I’m very likely wearing yoga pants and a tank top, but whatever—the TV only goes one way).

Inevitably, I start trying to determine which dresses I would want to wear. Like, at the Golden Globes, although I thought Charlize Theron looked incredible (full disclosure—she’s pretty much my favorite person to watch on the red carpet EVER), I could not pull that off. However, my other favorites, Paula Patton and Sarah Michelle Gellar? How can I get those dresses in my closet right now? Can anyone tell me? Spectacular.

But! This is a fitness site, not a forum for discussing celebrity fashion—isn’t that what Twitter is for? So what’s my point?

I’m curious whether the rest of you imagine yourselves strutting your stuff down the red carpet, and, if so, what type of dress are you wearing? What body parts are you showing off, and which are you hiding?

FITNESS magazine and Yahoo! Shine teamed up to poll readers about their body confidence and found that thighs are commonly our least favorite body part, while we tend to like showing off our cleavage and our booties. FITNESS also looked at which celebs had the most rockin’ bodies at the Golden Globes, naming Kate Beckinsale the best body, Sofia Vergara best cleavage (surprise, surprise), and Jessica Alba was the best body after baby, among other super-hot stars.

(For the record, the best quote of the night came from Vergara, who answered a question about reports that she’d been doing two-a-days at the gym to get ready for awards season. She credited her sleek and strong arms to Gunnar Peterson, but her boobs to cake. I can get behind that workout program.)

Apparently I’m like most other women—I’m not shy about showing a little cleavage when it’s appropriate, but I also don’t mind showing a little leg. Now it’s your turn to chime in. What body parts would you like to flaunt on the red carpet? What kind of dress would you like to wear? —Kristen

Let's just say that my first back at the gym after my toe surgery was no cake walk.

The first day back in the gym after a hiatus—or what I like to call “Day One”—has been my worst fear ever since I first heard my foot surgeon say “No exercise until healed.” That was a month ago. In that month I sat, and hobbled and sat some more. I ate well, but did engage in some naughty holiday fun. All of that combined with time led to one heck of a hard Day One.

Before my surgery, I used to be able to run without really thinking about it. I trained for and ran a marathon, I took classes and boosted my weights to 15-pounders because I was building muscle. All of these awesome accomplishments were running through my head as I gasped and watched as my scrawny arms shook through my very first push-up on my first day back at the gym.

It’s so hard starting over y’all, but it’s possible. Whether it’s been a month or years, a post-injury comeback or a true first-time workout session, we’re all in the same boat. I won’t lie. It’s challenging as heck and a bruise to the ego. Flashing montages of my previous fit self ran through my tired brain, but facing that darn Day One was so freakin’ necessary.

I need the huffing and puffing up my stairs to end. I want to move effortlessly again. And that, my friends, requires a Day One.

My Day One was so freaking hard, too. The push-ups, the TRX exercises, the weights…workouts that used to come so easily for me were now winding me like a mofo, as you’ll see below. It wasn’t easy, but I did it. And since then, each day has gotten better and better—each pull a little sweeter.

Can’t see the video? Click here to see my day one.

Have you started your Day One or are you trying? I know exactly what you’re going through, and I’m here to say it gets better. There’s only one Day One you’ll have to endure if you keep persistence in your morning smoothies! —Tish

If only taking it easy was this easy. Credit: mike@bensalem

I’ve been lucky so far to have never really had an injury, workout-induced or otherwise. Sure, I’ve had the occasional shin splint that went away with rest. And I fell and hurt my wrist while cheerleading in high school. And I’ve done all sorts of clumsy things and taken falls and such, but I’ve never been sidelined. I felt the utmost sympathy when Jenn broke her butt. And when a tree got all stabby with her foot. And when Tish had surgery on her foot and had to take a break. And when poor Kristen had chafing in a particular area. Now I feel the utmost sympathy for myself. A boo-hoo-for-me pity party for one, coming right up!

I detailed the fun pregnancy-induced pelvic pain I was having over on Fit Bottomed Mamas. Don’t worry, it’s nothing that’ll make you squirmy; it’s just that the bones and ligaments in my hips and pelvis are freaking out because of hormones and act like they have no idea how to function pain-free even though they’ve had decades of experience. And then I discussed my subsequent recovery, which unfortunately turned out to be temporary. So it hurts to walk. Move. Carry my daughter around. Roll over in bed. You know, things that you must do to function daily. Never mind work out.

The solution? I’m looking into more options as I still have an entire trimester of pregnancy to survive, but right now they’re the high-tech and doctor-recommended a) sleep with a body pillow, b) Tylenol (rarely) and c) taking it easy (so easy to do when chasing a toddler around).

Hopefully, my lower body will go back to normal when I d) have the baby, but for now I’m enjoying my good days, when I don’t walk around like I’m a creaky old lady twice, nay, three times my age. I’ve been taking it easier, too, which is hard for someone used to being active and not feeling like a 90-year-old arthritic woman. I’ve been an admittedly lazy parent, trying to kick my feet up on the couch and only chase my daughter with speed when danger is immediately involved— she’s after the dog dish (again) or is chasing the dog with a kitchen utensil. Definitely more book reading and tea parties than running around these days.

I feel like a couch potato, and while I definitely feel better when I take it easy, I hate it. I want to be able to go to the grocery store without dreading the pain of loading my daughter up and hauling groceries into the house. I want to be able to get out of bed without flinching. And I want to be able to go for a walk without considering the level of pain I’m in that day and if it’ll just make it worse.

It’s not the end of the world. Definitely not. I know there are people who suffer from worse pain than I do—and who don’t have an end in sight, like the end of a pregnancy. But I seriously have the utmost sympathy for those in chronic pain. Because, as I said, being in pain sucks. The end.

Have you ever dealt with a lasting pain that had you sidelined? How thrilled were you when you could jump back on the workout wagon again? —Erin

For years I’ve heard a lot about the Vitamix on different blogs and websites. When I first heard about it, I was like “$450? Well, you have to just be crazy to get that. How can it possibly be worth all that?” And then, I started making more smoothies.

At first, a basic blender was fine. A frozen banana and ice were a bit of a challenge, but protein power and strawberries were a breeze. And then I started getting more adventurous. I started adding frozen spinach…then kale…and then I wanted to add EVERYTHING healthy in. But homie wasn’t playin’ that. (Homeybeing my blender.) And homey burnt out, not once, but twice. So it was obvious I needed to invest in a quality blender.

And then I used the financial thinking that gets a lot of us in trouble: Well, what’s the point of getting something mediocre? I might as well buy the best! Screw the rest!

And so I began my campaign to convince my wonderfully frugal husband that yes, I—no, we!—needed a blender that cost roughly as much as a set of tires for the car. I began with casually mentioning this cool “new blender” that was out there and how it could basically crush rocks. Then, I started complaining a bit more loudly about our current blender. (For the record, I already cussed at it a lot.) I make green smoothies for me and my husband just about every morning, so I had ample opportunity to do this. Next, I began bringing up—usually while eating a big salad for dinner—how awesome raw food is for you and how you can eat SO MUCH MORE produce when you’re juicing/blending whole foods. But, you know, not with a little blender like ours. Like one of those other blenders.

Well, eventually, I got him as excited about the whole dang thing as I was. So much so that he ended up doing his own research, and concluded that, yes, the Vitamix was the way to go. (We could get a juicer, but then you have the pulp to do something with, which just seems like a hassle to us.) Before I knew it, we were striking a deal with ourselves to forgo our usual Christmas presents to help justify such a large purchase. And it is a large purchase. I almost had a panic attack when I pulled out my credit card for it.

After anxiously awaiting its arrival on our doorstep for 10 days, our Vitamix has become an essential part of our food preparation. I used it six times in the first 24 hours I had it—three smoothies, a massive round of mango daiquiris, fresh cranberry salad dressing and chocolate-banana-avocado pudding. In the two weeks I’ve had it thus far, we’ve probably used it two to three times a day, and holy goodness gracious it makes a joke of my previous blender.

I can now stuff it with more kale than my grocery store practically carries. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but I stuff a lot of kale in there.

And I make one hell of a green smoothie.

As I go about perfecting my green and kale smoothie recipes, I’ll be sure to share them here, but in the meantime just know that I’m trying it all—grapefruit, pears, carrots, celery, collard greens, almond butter, berries, ginger, liquor. Not everything tastes great together—but it’s still amazingly blended to a consistency that is so smooth it’s almost unfathomable that it was ever anything but a drink. Let alone a cruciferous vegetable.

I almost can’t believe I’m saying this, but, for me, the Vitamix was worth every single penny. Some people buy flatscreen TVs. Others buy high-fashion shoes and clothes. I apparently buy blenders. Or, more accurately, one blender (seven-year warranty, baby!).

Do you make kale smoothies or green smoothies? Have a Vitamix? Want to get one? Think they’re ridiculously expensive? Sound off in the comments! —Jenn