The other day I received a message asking how to get abs like mine. I’m not sure if she was expecting some magical answer like, “I house a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos dipped in Cool Whip before bed every night,” but she seemed a bit bummed out when I answered instead, “Pilates, yoga, and running.” This is not another installment of “You Did Not Eat That.” I actually do spend time sweating and while I did partake in National Ice Cream Day on Sunday, I am cognizant of what I put into my body on a regular basis. I don’t do it because I want to be thin, though that is a welcome side effect, I do it because I actually feel better when I’m not bombarding my intestines with ingredients I can’t pronounce… except for the occasional glass of wine from some far corner of the Earth that I just point to on the menu and smile. Sure, when I was in college I could sit down in front of the TV with a raging hangover and feed my frame an entire pizza without seeing the effects. But seeing as I’m no longer wielding a fake ID from Tennessee, my metabolism has given me the middle finger and shopping is most certainly not my cardio.