Long has comfort food been a staple in our lives. We eat it when we're sick in body and soul, we eat it when we long for home, we eat it after a bad test day or a "treat yo' self" day. Everyone loves comfort food, and I've never thought it's possible to have too much. But after a nightmare (yes, it was!) where I got sick of mac n' cheese, I decided to put that to the test for seven days, where, for at least one meal a day, I had to eat comfort food. Bring on the calories.

Side note: I have a huge rowing race in less than a week. Should I be doing this? No. Am I? Yes.

Day One: Sunday

I had leftover rice and beans for lunch, ugh, yummy goodness heck yea, but I'm making beef stroganoff for dinner, which has long been a comfort food staple in my family, and I am SO excited. Not that dining hall stuff either. The good kind, with egg noodles and ground beef? Just like my Mom makes. Someone curb my enthusiasm.

Monday

Normally I eat a late dinner at the Hub with my SO on Monday nights, but on Sunday he offered to take me to Cracker Barrel for dinner tonight. Ahh, sweet southern food goodness, but those mashed potatoes and mac n cheese were the BOMB. Y'all should see my rowing journal, 'cause I'm betting I pull some weak numbers tomorrow out on the water.

Tuesday

For lunch, I made some mac n' cheese in a mug. The recipe I used was DELICIOUS. In light of Halloween, the stuff probably would have tasted better if they were shaped like ghosts, but I managed. To be completely honest, I'm feeling pretty heavy with all this comfort food.

Wednesday

I normally catch dinner after afternoon rowing practice with some of the girls, but I didn't want to wait in that awful long sandwich line at, like, 8:30 PM in the Hub. I'm also feeling pretty guilty about eating all of this stuff LITERALLY THE WEEK OF THE BIGGEST FALL REGATTA WE HAVE why did I decide to do this.

I made my grilled ham and cheese for lunch and ate it hastily, just like I used to on Friday nights before football games back in high school, and proceeded to feel like a shmuck for doing so.

Sorry in advance, rowing team.

Thursday

I LEAVE FOR TENNESSEE TODAY OMG. So, because I was a rushed little monkey today and didn't eat lunch (healthy, I know) so that I could stuff myself at Subway for dinner while I have my meeting for class (ooo look at me go with all the healthy), I ate grits for breakfast, southern style, and I proceeded to count it as my comfort food. Show me your judging eyes all you want. I won't see them because I'll be hastily packing, cramming myself into a van, and trying to sleep on the 8-hour car ride up to the race course.

Friday

I haven't brushed my teeth since last night and I feel SUPER gross from that (cold!) car ride and subsequent (hot!) practice on the Chattahoochee River to get prepared for our races tomorrow. I also haven't eaten all day so when we get to Olive Garden for team dinner tonight I am STUFFING MY FACE with breadsticks and pasta and meat sauce (and maybe the house salad, too, who knows, I can probably pack it away somewhere.)

Update: I feel pleasantly full and I just took the GREATEST shower of my life. Bring it on, race day. I'm ready for you. This lightweight wristband is very annoying but it's not coming off of my wrist until we get home.

Double Update: Rowing regattas have weight classifications like wrestling. Some of us row in the lightweight category - for women, that means weighing under 130 pounds. We get weighed in with an officiant when we arrive on Friday and then we race the others in our division on Saturday.

Saturday

I've been waiting all day for a milkshake, I'm not even going to deny it. I CRAVE a milkshake. I just had the GREATEST row of my life on that scenic, giant river, and after I chug approximately 12 bottles of water, I am getting a vanilla milkshake and then I'm calling it quits with this comfort challenge, baby. I picked the wrong week for this. I feel heavy and bloated and Tennessee is way hotter than I thought it would be (76 degrees is our high, hello Florida, is that you??). I won a medal in my lightweight 8 (that means 8 rowers, one little person who shouts at us to go faster called a coxswain) so dangit, I DESERVE A MILKSHAKE.

Update: Coach Kate bought us ice cream at the Coldstone that approximately 400 feet from the race course. I can die happy. I rowed 20,000 meters today, y'all. Bury me with a viking funeral in one of the racing shells and pour a milkshake on my coffin for me.