The Start of Things to Come

Why is food that is absolutely detrimental to our health taste so damn good? I take a look in the fridge. Let's see here... left over salad mix, a salmon burger from the night before, and some green beans, all awaiting me in their sealed plastic houses. Now comes the important decision. Do I close the refrigerator door and settle for a few popsicles and pretzels? Maybe I stick with what's in the fridge, but I know that this particular option will cease to satisfy me. 

Then is dawns on me. I am a grown adult (that status comes upon turning 22, I believe), and I can use this magic machine called a car to drive to an infinite amount of food distributors that will happily supply me with whatever my stomach desires. The entire world is one giant dinner plate. Just think of the possibilities. Two large supermarkets are within one mile of my house. How convenient is that? Oh, and get this, one of them has the best steaks anywhere, and I looove my steak. There's also a Subway within a mile, as well as countless fast-food chains. So since I'm flying solo for dinner tonight I can choose to eat fresh, have it my way, think outside the bun, and do what taste's right. Oh yeah, I'm lovin' these options so much more than the already forgotten fridge.

So I cave in to my desires. Showing no self-control whatsoever, I head to the nearest burger joint to get my fill of the greasy food that drives my salivary glands wild. I've placed my order now and while I sit in the drive-through I tell myself that this is the last time I'll subject my body to this kind of torture. This is a lie. Up at the window, I'm handed my bag of food. A label notifies me that it was made of recycled paper products. The glistening dark spots on it let me know that there's just enough grease. 

The bag of greasy food is coming home with me. It sits in the empty passenger seat just like it was a member of the family, beckoning me as I drive. Then I do something that has to be done every single time I go through this routine. Even though I plan on eating upon arriving at home, I have to... absolutely have to reach in to that bag to steal some french fries away from their counterparts. After I steal a few, I quickly close the bag back up to conserve the heat. After all, a hot meal is much better than a cold one. The same goes with baths, women, and coffee. Unless it's iced coffee. That stuff is good. Anyways, the closing of the bag is a pointless maneuver. Even though I've told myself to wait until I get home to unleash the feast before me, I open the bag again to steal some more fries! Am I really this weak!? Is my self-control so bad that I let a couple of french fries dictate my behavior? In this case, yes I do. 

I don't know who to blame here. God for making good tasting food bad for us? Nah. He's pretty cool. Do I blame myself for letting myself get away with such cravings? No, sir. Don't you know that I'm just the victim here? Seriously. So who do I blame? For the hell of it I'll blame Barack Obama... or Hitler. They both suck. Oh, Celine Dion as well. She's Canadian.