I couldn’t help myself. Before I knew it I had put them in my cart. I was enticed by the low price of .99. I now see why the .99 fast-food value menu works for some. As I put them in my cart I felt a little guilty. Without me checking the label I already knew the blueberries were not grown locally — there’s no way they could be. There’s no where within a 200 mile radius that is warm enough to produce blueberries this time a year. That would mean the blueberries came from far, far away. Sure, enough the label read “Product of Chile.” I rationalized: If I didn’t buy them other customers would. Besides, they were already shipped over 5,000 miles — why shouldn’t I indulge in them? Hmm…That’s a fully loaded question. One I’m afraid to even try to answer. Let’s just say I enjoyed the blueberries with a little bit of Greek Yogurt and they were delicious. Shame on me for indulging in non-local blueberries.

A while ago I mentioned I wanted to write a series of blogs “Stewards of the Earth” that would explore:

Food deserts
Organic food 
Local food
Milk - The Truth
Plant based diets

Well, I think my guilty indulgence is the perfect way to get that series started. Coming up soon a blog post about local produce.

Chrisetta Mosley

Chrisetta Mosley

I am a product – and now a survivor – of childhood obesity. As a child, my family always told me that my extra weight was merely baby fat and I’d eventually grow out of it. I never did. Instead, my childhood is filled with memories of not being able to ride a bike, flattening its training wheels from being over the recommended weight, and avoiding P.E. classes by any means necessary. For years, I wore my fatness like a wounded soldier wears a Purple Heart - with pride. I owned the look. I dressed it up. I worked the room. There wasn't a skinny girl who intimidated me. I made sure my hair was laid just right. Nails polished. Outfits coordinated to the tee. Accessories to compliment every outfit. But everyone has a breaking point, and mine came in the spring of 2004 when I tipped the scale at nearly 400 pounds 388 to be exact. I was MISERABLE trapped inside of that body. I no longer wore my Purple Heart with pride. Rather, I was ashamed and frightened. Ashamed that I had allowed food to become my everything – frightened I would die because of it. Drastic times called for drastic measures... Today, I’m bound and determined to live a better, healthier, active lifestyle. I realize I’m no longer a passenger in my life, I’m the driver. I’m overcoming my inhibitions and I’m slowly but surely saying farewell to my old childhood nemesis, obesity. For once and for all, Farewell Fatso!

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