I got my sweats on, my hair in a high-bun, and yesterday’s mascara clumped under my eyes. The picture ain’t so pretty here, folks! And of course, just like a bad (but so good) lifetime movie, I always run into someone from high school when I look like dirt.
And Chipotle doesn’t deliver.
Why Chipotle? Why?
Take that, Chipotle! I made my own “bowl” . . . or rather my own “blob” on parchment paper . . . and I know exactly how many calories are in my sloppy, delicious mess!