I got found out. Go ahead and judge me. I'm not who you think I am, after all.

I honestly thought I could get away with it. It would be my own private dirty secret, and no one would be any wiser. Life would go on, I would be my normal self on the outside, while inside I held tightly to the truth, lest anyone discover what a hypocrite I am.

But then Brian confronted me Saturday night.




"Kel, what is this?" he chastised gently from across the kitchen. I looked up, guilt in my heart and fear in my eyes as I prepared to suffer through this dreaded conversation.

"Honey, I ... I don't know what to say."

"Please just tell me this isn't what I think it is." I hung my head in shame. How many times had I sworn I wouldn't do it? How many times had I made fun of those who made the choice themselves? How many times had I argued against it? Didn't I have, in the very annals of Sublurban Mama, written declaration of my stance against this very thing? I quickly blurted out my defense.

"I know. I just caved to the desire for a ... a change in my life. You can understand that, right, Babe? Besides, I'm making BLT's later this week and I might die if I eat another lettuce wrap."

So hyprocrite. Many ashamed. Much full of delicious BLT on actual bread.

Yes ... yes, that is Ezekiel bread you see in my house. Yes, I paid an astronomical amount for it because BLT's. And yes, the truth will find you out, my friend. So there you have it folks. Please, keep the rude emails to a minimum. I promise I'll be less hasty with my life-stance declarations in the future. (And I'll wait at least a week before getting my "Sprouted Wheat 4 Lyfe" tattoo.)