Tuesday, August 4, 2009
I Am a Big Fat Hypocrite
It turns out I’m completely full of crap. After all my talk about organic this and sustainable that, I’m just a big glutton destined to be a future pity contestant on The Biggest Loser.
This weekend I went on a little outdoor excursion and when I reached civilization again, it was necessary to refuel. After eating two days of freeze-dried crap, I deserved, nay required, real food. While on the return trail, I had fantasies of poaching some wild salmon with chopped fresh tomatoes or defrosting a grass-fed ribeye. But once we got to the parking lot, hunger overwhelmed me and I manhandled our caravan to the nearest Black Bear Diner, one of a growing chain of restaurants on the West Coast. They specialize in comfort food in large quantities and do it well. So well that we decided that they must be owned by the same foreign conglomerate that started The Cheesecake Factory and P.F. Chang’s – just one more cog in the international conspiracy to make Americans even more obese.
But what could I do about it? Once my eyes settled on the menu, I couldn't help but focus on the appetizer sampler platter, the one with the quesadillas, chili cheese nachos, garlic fries, chicken tenders (yes, chicken), and onion rings. What wasn’t deep fried was covered in cheese. Wait, everything was deep fried and covered in cheese. Anyhow, the point is, the seductiveness of their offerings eclipsed my political correctness. When the platter arrived, I took the prison posture where I protected my plate with my left hand while shoveling food into my mouth with the right. It was impressive. But what earned me true hypocrite/glutton status was my ordering a side of macaroni and cheese on top of the appetizers. Who cares that it was mediocre? My calories per dollar ratio was off the charts.
Thus, I feel it’s my responsibility to blog this great shame. All my talk of boycotting poultry means nothing. And I’m sure there was nothing on that plate that didn’t involve genetically modified crops and/or high fructose corn syrup. So you should stop reading this blog, toot sweet. I can’t be trusted.
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