Potatoes are a beautiful thing. Spudtastic, even. Spudilicious. Spudariffic. And a whole slew of other words I could totally make up if I felt like it.
I made these babies. Sliced them up, fried them in a pan with oil, sprinkled them with various seasonings, and dipped them lovingly in ketchup right before they got to hop right on into my giant gaping maw and slide on down my throat. An adventure for all!
Now here’s a question: Is it just America that’s so wealthy and so religious so as to think people should feel actual guilt for eating not so healthy foods?
I don’t like buying into the sort of thought process that makes a chocolate cake ‘sinfully good’, or that eating something delicious yet low-calorie means that you can do it ‘guilt-free’. When did food stop being a fuel and start becoming a furtive hidden pleasure? I blame puritans and supermodels, it’s all their fault!
Admittedly, I’m an American here too, and the pull of wanting to eat more crap then I technically need is often greater then I can resist. But it seems smarter to just be mathematical about the matter. Your body needs x amount of food to fuel the y amount of energy you expend. To maintain your body weight, increase and decrease both at equal levels. To lose weight, decrease x slightly and increase y slightly. If you eat that extra cookie, you can justify it mathematically via doing an extra lap around the track, and so on.
When you start assigning moral values to the food you eat, all of the sudden you’re a better person if you eat no cookies, despite the fact that, after doing a gazillion laps, you body might very well have a legitimate need for that cookie. And then, the inevitable. The snake in the garden lures Eve on in. You’ll take that box of Swiss Cake Rolls from the tree of the knowledge of binging and purging, and before you know it you’re signing over entire paychecks to Little Debbie as you gorge upon the creamy soft meats of a thousand wrapped treats, praying to the Jesus that in his day never knew such temptations like you face, aisles of boxes full of mouthwatering sinful Death.
‘Cake is Death’ is the 1984 of our gastronomical nightmares, and it must be fought at all costs! I will stand, agnostic and true, and speak “Cake, please”.