Meat In Your Mouth

I am in awe over the radio ad for the new sandwich from Wendy's called The Baconator. I personally can't imagine in good conscience, eating a sandwich with two burgers, two slices of cheese, mayonnaise, and SIX strips of bacon. In one sandwich. And who orders JUST the sandwich? If you're gonna go for it, you know you'll get the Biggie Fries, too. But maybe you'll get the diet Coke because you wouldn't want to go TOO crazy. The irony in the ad is that the spritely young lady talking about the meat muffin makes it sound totally normal and healthy. In this day when such an enormous portion of the U.S. population is obese, is it really something to cheer over to get a sandwich with 6 strips of bacon??

I am not a huge fan of meat consumption in general. I grew up eating pork chops and beef pot roast and fried chicken. Anytime I ate beef I preferred to douse it in plenty of ketchup. I don't really care for the texture or color of beef or lamb. Too bloody. I was a vegetarian for about 10 years starting when I was 15. I had a friend in high school who didn't eat meat so it seemed like a great idea.I eat chicken and fresh fish primarily now. I hate ground beef. That's right, call me un-American, I do not enjoy hamburgers. You can see where my disdain for a meatloaf on a bun such as The Baconator comes from.

I bitch about fat issues a lot, I know. I don't know if it was from so many years of having to wear pale pink tights and a leotard or what. I have never, ever perceived myself as skinny. Even when I WAS skinny. Looking back I can clearly see I was demented. I hate feeling fat. I hate seeing any semblance of a double chin in photos. I think it's sort of a genetic thing. Every time I add 5 pounds to myself, three of them end up under my chin. I hate when my arms look fat in pictures. I have learned how to strategically place them so they look thin and muscular. I have crossed my arms in front of my stomach since I was 13 due to my insecurity about not having a flat, chub-roll-free tummy. I no longer weigh myself because it seriously pisses me off. I stand backwards on the scale at the doctor. I prefer to go by how my clothes fit, not that number I will always deem too high for my liking.

I suppose I've got some issues, some with food and some with weight. Everyone's got their hang-ups. These happen to be mine. I don't think they require therapy or medication, I think they might even be pretty common. I will not begrudge you if you love steak. But I won't be ordering a triple stack burger or a 12-pack of sliders from White Castle or especially The Baconator. I will stick with a grilled chicken sandwich or salad, hold the fries. If you invite me to your home and are serving beef, I will politely sample your entree. Just don't expect me to come back for seconds. I accept that I will never be a size 4 but I will also continue to ask that the nurse simply write my weight on my chart rather than announce it to me. But can I implore you, chipper Wendy's announcer girl, could you please quit sounding so damn jovial over your artery-clogging monstrosity? It's a heart attack on a bun. And there are some pretty dumb-ass people in America who just might be convinced there are essential vitamins in 6 strips of hickory-smoked bacon.