Carrie Saum

I LOVE brunch. I love brunch more than I love most humans/animals/home renovation shows. It will come as no surprise when I tell you that I revere brunch like many people revere Lady Gaga and The Big Lebowski and Christmas. Brunch is a Big Deal for me — I take it seriously.

I say this: Stop fat-shaming my toddler son. Fat will not make him fat. Fat does not make him unhealthy.

I also kind of feel like whatever I do eventually put in my body needs to be quality and filling and full of nutritious goodness. This is hard on mornings when it literally feels like all I can do to make toast. Sometimes I look at it, contemplate it fresh out of the toaster and briefly wonder if I really need to spread the almond butter on it. Because effort.

I now interrupt your frantic turkey preparations for the following announcement: 

EAT PIZZA, INSTEAD.

If you grew up in a typical Christmas tradition, you probably had the same dinner at Thanksgiving and at Christmas.

Apparently, there's a thing happening in Houston this weekend. A sportsball game of some sort and people are super excited about it.

After my husband and I were first married, we hit a rocky patch.

In February, you gave me that soul-punching gaze again and told me it's okay to eat bread while we obtain Our Best Bodies. You lost 26(!) pounds and you eat bread every damn day! I feel how miraculous this is for you because you've probably made bread evil, along with All The Carbs and fat on your body.

Here’s a crash course on self-talk. Self-talk is the voice in your head, the invisible responder, the captain of your brain ship.

So, when your BFF moves into her first real home and her husband has a birthday at basically the same moment, you bake a cake. And not just any cake but a beautiful thing made of the best ingredients. You aim high, confident that you can come through for your BFF and celebrate her family's milestones with four spongy layers filled with thick raspberry preserves and succulent buttercream.