Its windows are half covered over with white paper. I leave the gym each Sunday morning, come here directly, heart still racing, sweat still dripping. I have just spent an hour and a half lifting weights, heavy ones, and the last thing I want to do is put something unhealthy into my body. Water and bagel bars, eight ounces of one, four of the other that s my secret. These bagels of sorts, nutrition bars they re actually called, are made of barley flour and molasses, filled with sesame seeds, honey, malt, raisins, walnuts, cinnamon.
Some folks eat em toasted, with almond butter, or slathered with cream cheese.
Me, I keep them clean, pure. Three hundred and eighty calories, hot, tasty, healthy, substantial, consumed right there, in the car, front seat, window down, feet up on the dash, in that godforsaken parking lot, an immediate reward to my body for a job well done. Some 15 years ago Brody tasted a Price Club variation of the nutrition bar, but it was dry, without flavor, and wasn t really healthy. Brody s variation is what my body craves. Fresh, still steaming, the raisins inside the phallic-shaped mass too hot to pick from the bar.