Forbidden Food

I used to be a health nut.  I was internet directive-obedient, with that air of superiority that can only be obtained by knowing in the depths of my soul that I eat better than you!

Then I turned my head from the monitor for just a second, and Adkins had come to condemn my eschewing of red meat, cholesterol, and fat as apostasy.  I held out as I found myself surrounded by more and more converts.  Still holding out as authoritarian web sites appeared to assure my downfall via veggie-burgers, a staple of my food world.  Changes came more quickly as each new dietary savior was introduced.  I began to be worn down by the stress of being declared a bad eater, I’d lost my dignity in an ever-changing world.

Screw-it!  I hit menopause.  At this point a cow in a field would be in danger if I’d gone more than four hours since breakfast.  I’ve since obtained a touch of the lard-ass; but I’ve gotten the potato chips out of the pantry, and things are looking up.  Still, I revel in the concept that, on eating, I trust my gut (or what’s available at the agility trial, yes, even the concession stand at Bowling Green).   

Google and see the forbidden foods, the dietary-faithful stay at war, nothing is worthy of scarfment, and I just don’t give a flip.