Smoothies are my crack pipe.


I love smoothies. No, I mean, I fucking loooooooove smoothies. This winter I jumped on the “juicing” bandwagon. And for several weeks I found myself making a trip to the local market searching out this $5 glass of ridiculous kale water with everything just short of tadpoles in it. But one day this spring, as the weather started to turn, I stopped by NutriSmoothie. Almost as scared of the name as I am of the shelves of massive tubs of weight gainer or other chemicals I can’t pronounce,  I slinked in the door intimidated by the bulk in every direction.

So I went to my safe place. I searched the massive menu for words that badly wanted to see- green, spinach, kale and apple. Like arriving alone to a party in full swing, and finding that one person across the room that you know, a wave of relief swept over me. I ordered the “Green”, paid the $4.39 and stepped aside…. (When you look at the menu, ignore the fact that it’s full of fruit, chocolate, yogurt and other things a preschooler would identify, I was in pee-my-pants panic mode, or maybe just Hangry.)

8761976567_552820279d_oAnd that was my first visit, when I fell off the wagon in love. This discovery resulted in almost daily visits. The scariest part is my innate drive to work the system, like a crack addict, an alcoholic, someone hiding a problem they don’t want anyone to know about. Someone who will lose it all when their loved ones (aka my clothes) step in and say “Laura, you have a problem. Stop with the fucking smoothies. Or we’ll leave you, and you’ll be broke and naked.”

I jump back and forth between locations of the two NutriSmoothies in town, so they don’t catch on that I was there twice yesterday. TWICE! And to further mask my addiction, I’ve discovered smoothies of equal deliciousness at Java Creek (Nutty Monkey), and the Early Bird Cafe (Funky Monkey) where I now schedule my morning meetings so I have a “valid” excuse to indulge.

I can’t tell you that I’ll stop… I can’t even say I’ll limit it to one or two a day. But I’m willing to talk about it now, and the first step is admitting I have a problem, right?

Find smoothie porn here: Smoothies are my crack pipe


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