04 March 2010


It is a bit depressing to consider that eating the way I want to eat will kill me. Then again, God probably made it that way for a reason.

You see, I love a nice spot of junk food. I like a thick hamburger with fries, or a fried chicken sandwich, or a big ol' burrito Willy's or, to a lesser extent, Taco Bell. I like fatty foods. Whether this is so because of my American-ness, my healthy upbringing and subsequent punk rock-esque resistance mentality, or, simply, my palate, I don't know. What matters is that I like to eat, eat well, and eat a lot. It's a struggle I've maintained since my youth; the want to eat relatively unhealthy food in large amounts, especially when I'm especially hungry. I'm not obese, though I do maintain a healthy girth, and by the grace of God I did not inherit my dad's high cholesterol. Nevertheless, I want to maintain a healthy BMI and just be a healthy person.

Easier said than done, as I'm a man on the go and the temptations of tasty processed foods are everywhere.

I am, however, not without conscience; I listen to my body. And on those weeks when I've eaten quite unhealthily, either via too much meat or too much junk, my body seems to crave raw vegetables and I certainly oblige it. When I am on such a streak I do feel better, physically and about myself. Still, there remains the appeal of rich food and drink. Where it comes from, other than the arbitrary longings of stomach and palate, I just don't really know.

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