We’ve all been there, crouching in front of the fridge at three in the morning, staring at that leftover Chinese takeout, and thinking, “What has become of my life?” You close the fridge, start to leave the kitchen, then realize all hope is lost and gobble up that glistening sweet & sour chicken and pork fried-rice. Halfway through, your heart skips a beat, your fingers ache a little and your forehead drips with shameful sweat. By the time you’re finished, it’s almost four and you’re covered in filth and shame (hopefully mostly mental).
Before you go curling up in a ball and hating on yourself, let me tell you one important fact. You are the envy of all men. Greasy, yes, but glorious. Many lesser, worried mortals will tell you that what you just did (shoving another dinner into your greasy body) is horrible, but it’s not, even just a little; no, it’s a source of pride. With all the current health schemes going about, it’s hard to put food in your face-hole without worrying about the consequences. Gustatory hedonism is met with stern looks and a crowd of folks expecting to bask in the winds of your shame. But that shame you feel shouldn’t be the alimentation of other people. Hold on to that shame and know it’s good stuff. Be a little nasty once in awhile, and know that the food you are gross-gobbling is being consumed in an awesome way.
Say your day isn’t going as expected, or something or other has made the past few hours a little difficult. Do you really want to take the time to prepare a fresh spinach, basil, ricotta, cherry tomato, and pesto salad with some quinoa maybe, or do you want to suck down some nachos. Sure, the summery salad will actually make your body happier, but it won’t satisfy that weird part of your brain that just really wants beer, nachos, chicken fingers, and even that sloppy sandwich you’ve been seeing on those TV commercials. Or, if you’re feeling extra saucy, a BBQ chicken and bacon calzone, and an entire six pack of micro-brewed beer (I’ve done this before, I’m a professional).
This culinary practice will surely cause shame, but why does shame have to be so negative? It’s pretty shameful to bring a drunken chick home to your smelly bachelor cave, but you do it anyway and you’ll receive a minimum of six high fives. So get off your health food kick once in awhile and throw your body’s biological imperative to eat organic, local, green foods out the window in favor of a double bacon cheeseburger with fries, onion rings and a root beer float. Because, face it, you deserve it you slobbering, magnificent bastard.