Pity Party

Food.

I love it.

Taste. Texture. Temperature. Spicy. Salty. Savory. Sweet. Creamy. Crunchy. Crisp. Deep fried. A la mode. Covered in cheese. Smothered in gravy. Mmmm . . .

Food.

I hate it.

Calories. Carbs. Saturated fats. Cholesterol. Sodium. Gluten-free. Vegan. Paleo . . . So many choices. So many rules. So many contradictions. Eggs, avocados, wine – good one day, bad the next. Why is it so difficult?

And now I’ve got a pussy of a pancreas making it worse. I need to eat regularly. I need to keep things in balance. I need to baby this stupid thing or else it revolts and bad shit happens. It all comes down to food choices.

I’ve got a dietician who’s tried to explain it to me.

Good snack = X carbs, Y protein, Z fat

Good meal = X carbs, Y protein, Z fat

I'll walk out of her office thinking I know what I’m doing. Next thing you know, I'm having a meltdown in the bread aisle at Walmart. (True story.) Do you know how many different varieties of whole wheat bread there are? Seriously, I'd like to know. I lost it somewhere around the fifth loaf. I just wanted to make a fucking sandwich!

And then there’s the price thing. The healthier the food, the more it costs. WTF?

• MacDonald’s will sell you two Big Macs for $5 or a grilled chicken salad for $7.
• You can get a pound of fatty hamburger (75/25) and a box of Hamburger Helper for less than $4. A lean cut of beef will cost you twice that.
• You’ll spend twice as much on a bag of oranges than you will on a bag of donuts.
• You can get a two liter bottle of Coke for a dollar OR you can pay 75 cents more for a 16.9 ounce bottle of water.

It’s no wonder poor people are fat!

And I've noticed that:

• It’s easier to drive through KFC than it is to roast a chicken at home.
• Domino's will deliver a pizza in under 30 minutes -- faster than you can make a spaghetti dinner.
• The Chinese takeout places are open hours after the grocery store closes.

It’s no wonder busy people are fat!


Me? I don't have a lot of disposable income. And I don't have a lot of free time. Yet I need to figure this shit out -- and sooner rather than later. I feel like a salmon swimming up stream. (P.S. I hate salmon.)

So, welcome to my pity party. There’s no cake. Yeah, a party with no cake. It sucks. I’m leaving too.