Always interested in staying healthy with as little actual exercise as possible, I started drinking protein shakes a few months ago.
One of our sons-in-law is a military veteran who trains on the rowing machine and treadmill, does weight training, and runs 5 miles for fun in scorching heat or frigid cold. I also run. He works from home and has little time for lunch.
We had a lot in common in terms of working from home, so I decided to try protein shakes as well. Sure, you can collect leftovers and turn them into lunch, but our leftovers have yielded so many aged leftovers that they could be featured on ancestry.com.
When I head to the fridge for lunch, there's usually a salad in there. Lettuce, carrots, and cucumbers do not contain protein.
You need protein. I know this because I keep hearing and seeing this in pop-up ads, commercials, and messages from very healthy and highly paid health professionals. Do you know what contains protein? Anything that makes a fuzzy or clicking sound contains protein. My taste in meat has become inversely correlated with age. The older you get, the less attractive you become.
So I bought some small chocolate protein shakes from a brand with a picture of a wide-eyed cow on the label. One protein shake contains 60 grams of protein. I basically drink two cups of chicken breast for lunch. chocolate chicken. Hmm.
You'll probably get all the protein you can get from all sides of beef in a week. As a result, I feel taller, stronger, younger, and can jump over tall buildings in one shot.
As I was sailing along feeling good about life and protein, some great people stopped by and threw open the fridge door to see what they had to eat.
I hear a voice say, “Grandma, when did you start buying chocolate milk?”
“That's not chocolate milk, girls. That's my protein shake,” I say, exuding an air of confidence that I'm in the know and do things perfectly.
silence.
“Grandma, it's not a protein shake. It's chocolate milk.”
They handed me a bottle with a picture of a wide-eyed cow on the label, pointed to the bottom to type in “chocolate reduced fat ultra-filtered milk,” and fell to the floor laughing. I drink chocolate milk for lunch.
I have since switched to real protein shakes. Luckily, that gave me the strength to endure the ribbing that kept coming.
I wonder if the child in me knew that I was drinking chocolate milk all this time.
The old men went home and were still rolling on the floor laughing.
(Lori Borgman is a columnist, author, and speaker. Her new book, “It Happened at Grandma's House,” is on sale now. Email lori@loriborgman.com.)
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