You see, I pack a BFS (Big Frackin’ Salad) every day for
lunch so my lunch doesn’t smell like anything….well, maybe a freshly mown
lawn. It sure as hell doesn’t waft up
the nostrils like, say, the arma of frying bacon or warm beef stew.
It seems like everyone else that works here brings killer
lunches. Meals that scream “tasty!,” “filling!,”
and “not mine!”
Instead,
I open the fridge, pull out my salad and then….
I smell something someone has heated up in the break room, and
I suffer a depression ambush.
A depression ambush is that sudden, overwhelming feeling of
FML that usually comes in response to…..well, to having a salad for lunch while
all the other people seem to be sporting steak and potatoes or NY style pizza
or something.
Don’t get me wrong, my BFS lunches are pretty awesome. I spend real time on my salad making
enterprises. They are packed with
greens, olives, onions, etc….. My one
tip to protein is a small handful of almonds (do sunflower seeds have protein?)
and the occasional bug that slips past the washing phase. Load it with super-high-fat salad dressing,
and I have a pretty decent lunch.
I usually look forward to it every day…….largely because up
until lunch time I only ever have coffee and a banana so I’m starving like
toothless horse in short grass.
But then some person who hasn’t heard of the concept of
healthy diet, starts warming up something from America’s Top Chef or whatever,
and my salad starts to seem like what it really is; an assortment of things
that humanity originally started eating only because they couldn’t catch real
food.
It’s like grade school all over again, only I have healthy
food rather than the pathetically dry sandwiches on day-old bread, with mealy
apples. Lunches that I used to get, while my friend Earl had sandwiches of fresh Wonder
Bread with half a pound of Oscar Myer lunch meat, Snack Pack puddings, Cheetos,
Ring Dings and other tasty things.
I’m not bitter……(okay maybe a little)...... but I realize now that I make
the choice to eat what I eat. I choose
to eat things that will (hopefully) slow the deterioration process (some call it aging) that my body is
going through. Stuff that will
potentially prolong my life by a few minutes…….
(Unless of course I meet an untimely demise by a car
accident, home invasion gone awry, drone strike, bites by large venomous snakes,
ship wreck, exploding gas lines, or errant meteors.)
……or at least make me a feel a little more fit while my pathetic life lasts.
So what if I have to suffer
through a produce department for lunch?!
Who cares that I am desperately
chewing spinach and hoping for porterhouse?
There are good reasons for doing so……..like.
The grim satisfaction I get when I walk past all those
people, eating their aromatic, drool inducing victuals, and pat my firm, flat
stomach and think…….
……"Damn!! It even looks good too!!"
That's usually when I suffer another Depression Ambush
No comments:
Post a Comment