July 21st is National Junk Food day. A day we can take a break from all the hard dietary work we put in on a daily basis. A day we can finally let go of the rigors of packing our lunch, slaving over our whole wheat sandwiches, our brown rice, chicken and broccoli. Finally, the time has come in where just for one day, we forsake our ruthless standards of health and let it all go. Nothing is off limits for us:
Fiery hot Cheetos? check.
Big mac with a whopper on the side? Definitely.
Ice cream with extra sprinkles? Oh yeah.
Non-diet soda? Holla!
Twinkies, ho-ho’s moon pies, and snowballs? well, I guess I could have just one (of each)
Tacos, pizza, and cheese steaks? Wouldn’t want to starve…
Sometimes it can be so refreshing to cheat a little and let loose right? But we as Americans live a lifestyle of cheating. There is literally no occasion when we’re not stuffing our faces with EVERYTHING WE WANT. Think back on the last time you showed moderation during a meal when you didn’t have to. The dinner where you take clients out for drinks at the french restaurant and only order hors d’ouvres doesn’t count. Abstaining from the 4th brownie doesn’t count. I’m talking about the time you order a full pizza and a 6 pack when you’re at home alone watching Gilmore Girl reruns. Did you call it quits at 2 slices that night? Probably not.
Right now, my main goal in life is to establish a gag reflex for when I hear terrible excuses, so that I just begin vomiting uncontrollably all over the floor and the guilty party, so that they can feel my pain. Since I haven’t been able to accomplish that feat yet, right now what I do is make a list of every time a morally bankrupt excuse offends me on a physical level, and when I go home at night, I burn my fingernails off with a creme brulee torch. Not a perfect system by any means, but it gets me through the day.
When we go out to eat, it becomes an ‘occasion’ where we’re granted more leniency for eating quantities of food that would put a mongoloid into a food coma. Seriously? How many times do you go out to eat per week. If you’re like most Americans, the answer is at least 3.5. Do you just forget what going out is like, and get excited to experience “The Olive Garden” and their real Italian cuisine? If so, God bless you. Life is going to be one fantastic surprise. If not, you’re just looking for another excuse to succumb to your poor eating habits, and it’s you who hurt me on a very physical level.
Think about all the times you’ve made excuses based on very average, most likely mundane events. Nephew’s birthday party? Gotta have pie. And ice cream. Aunt Myrtle’s funeral? You’d be remiss to not drink 13 beers. It’s what she would have wanted! First Friday of the month? Time for funnelcake. 4pm on a Thursday? might as well eat the last doughnut so we can throw away the box. The company should thanks you for this selfless act!
If you wanna look good, just do it. Eat well, and take the stairs. Quit justifying infantile “I see it I want it” behavior, lest I gain control of my gag reflex.