I've gotten into a bad habit. You see, the longer days mean that my bedtime creeps up toward midnight. Sadly, I still have to wake up at the same dismal 5:15 a.m. for my morning constitutionals. And when I inevitably fall back into bed after turning off the alarm, retreating into a quick nap before I absolutely positively must get up and haul my beleaguered ass to work or face the scornful stares of my coworkers, there are parts of my morning constitutional that must be eliminated. Granted, my morning constitutional usually requires nothing more vigorous than shaving my legs in the shower, but perhaps if I could get my ass out of bed earlier, there would be time spent at the gym, with a hopeful heart and a perky expression. Oh, put down your raised eyebrow, it totally could happen. As such, I embrace summer fashions just because wearing strappy sandals means that I don't have to waste time finding a matching pair of socks. I make sure that my clothes are figured out the night before and my makeup is the kind that involves swirling and tapping for the sole reason that I can't blow precious minutes trying to blend out a foundation line along my jawbone. Needless to say there's no way that I have time to make myself a nutritious breakfast. Since my laptop doesn't make me waffles, my entire breakfast is comprised of a 20-oz. cup of something via a Starbucks drive-through window. At least it's always nonfat no whips.

And therein lies the problem. We all know that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. It regulates your body sugar so that you don't fall asleep at your 10 a.m. meeting, fuels your little brain cells so that you can comprehend your overwhelmed e-mail inbox, and keeps you from ordering three double Whoppers at lunch, even though you're eating lunch by yourself.

I've been trying to do better, but even the pre-made frozen steel cut oatmeal is too much to ask. My new trick is to keep a box of low-carb protein bars in my desk at the office, but they are starting to resemble little fake chocolate Lincoln Logs, and while I swore the first one was indistinguishable from a Whatchamacallit candy bar, the 24,302nd one is cruel and unusual punishment. But at least I'm not stuck trolling the vending machines for scary prepackaged sandwiches containing scary lunch meats that probably contain more salt than a Dane Cook comedy routine. And I'm pretty sure that turkey isn't supposed to have a rainbow sheen on it. Apparently, eating an egg or two for breakfast can keep my face out of the sugar trough at 2 p.m., so maybe I need to stock up on some hard-boiled egss to grab in my dash out to the car. It's a no-brainer. Now if only I could have Tyler Florence poach and serve them with a delicate hollandaise sauce and barely steamed asparagus spears. Being healthy clearly requires a serious commitment, so I would have to call in late to work so that he can serve it to me in bed, please. Naked.  --Weetabix

What do you do in the morning? Do you have a better relationship with your barista than with your cereal bowl? Do you make a healthy egg white omelet and then chase it down with a piping-hot mug of smugness? Are you cruising on fumes until lunch time? The comments want to hear about your breakfast routine.