Being in shape is great, but Romany Creams are better

Craving for a summer body or good health just never seems to top the desire to eat whatever I like

IS IT possible to be a total foodie and a health freak at the same time? Or do we live under the assumption that one’s taste buds have to take a back seat if one wants to be in tip-top shape?

Either way, there’s way too much temptation of the edible kind these days; most of which does not bode well for the waistline or one’s overall health. So with this in mind, is it a blessing or a curse if you finally cave in to that little devil whispering in your ear urging you to hot-step it down to the nearest Spur to polish off a large rack of their famous ribs only to get there to be told: “Sorry, but we’ve run out.”?

“How about a schnitzel rather?” Darn it. A Spur without ribs? And you were having such a good day. Oh well, you’re trying to cut down on your consumption of red meat anyway.

So you’re at the hair salon getting your tresses tended to when out of the blue some woman waltzes in and is directed to the empty chair next to yours where she sits down and proceeds to tuck in to a box of Chicken Licken hotwings.

Such disrespect. Especially when you’ve been sticking to that healthy eating plan and patting yourself on the back for what is an obvious milestone.

Needless to say, the aroma from the woman at the salon proved too much, which is why it was followed by a trip to the nearest Chicken Licken soon thereafter.

This really happened to a friend of mine who says she threw a fit when she got there to be told they were out of hotwings but she could order anything else from the menu.

“Who comes here to order something other than hotwings?” she asked.

“And how do you run out of hotwings with all these chickens roaming the streets?”

The poor thing actually stormed out and settled for home-made baked chicken instead.

“I think it worked out better in the end,” I said after she animated the events to me telephonically. She hung up.

A life without amagwinya? I can’t imagine it and I shouldn’t have to. I don’t care if I reach billionaire status, they will remain on the menu and there will never ever be a healthy substitute that can dethrone them.

Being a lover of this deep-fried doughy delicacy has its drawbacks, though. For one, have you ever craved a summer body and amagwinya all at one time?

Unfortunately the two don’t mix. This is why you don’t know whether to laugh or cry when you oversleep during a weekend visit to Soweto because by the time you finally get up and sprint to the nearest spaza, they’ve run out.

At least you got in a morning run, brief as it was, before thinking: “There will come a time where you’ll be up by 5am on a Saturday to make amagwinya with your lifelong mate and all will be okay in the world.”

Being in shape is great, but I think Romany Creams are better. This is me lying to myself while devouring yet another box which I blame solely on the chilly winter weather.

Romany Creams are the dons of the biscuit kingdom you know and if Superman was 100 percent human, they’d be his kryptonite.

“One day I’ll have a sixpack but this is the day I feast on Romany Creams,” I say before adding: “Besides, I’ll stop munching on them when the world comes to an end or when sugar diabetes finally gets the better of me.”

I found a Cornetto ice cream cone at the bottom of the freezer and I’m not sure who put it there but it belongs to me now.

Get to know me and you’ll realise that if there’s a Cornetto within my grasp, its days are numbered and it knows it.

So should you. This is why you’ll know better than to leave yours unattended with me under your roof. Never save it for later; you will regret it.

I once saw this guy give his girlfriend the chocolate bit at the bottom of his Cornetto and I’ve yet to see a love so true. They were in their gym gear.

So I’m eating a fruit salad right now but I can’t lie: somehow, there’s leftover fried rice in the fridge from yesterday’s cheat meal whispering my name and I don’t know how much longer I can resist.

I’m not really sure what came first between the egg and the chicken but what I do know, is that somehow, both of them found their way into the oily goodness mixed in to that fried rice and that’s fine.

I tried to have a healthy start to the day, I really did, but if anybody’s looking for me, I’ll be up in the neighbour’s tree house rage-eating those greasy leftovers.

Hopefully, I’ll manage a late morning run after waking up from my food coma but don’t place your bets just yet.