This week they honored two celebrities for being outstanding vegans. I looked at them and scanned the list of past winners and was impressed with how thin and beautiful they were. I made a decision to become one of them. It was time to get healthy in the prime of my life. I was going to become a non-meater and join the Land that Time Forgot. Dinosaurs, reptiles, “Weird Al” Yankovic and me. There was one teeny problem…
I hate vegetables.
I am not joking. They make me gag. Meat is an entirely different matter. I can eat most meats all day long. Turkey, ham, beef, tuna, (sea meat) pork, chicken, uh…bacon, which is a lot like pork, right? Anyway, I love meat.
So, up to this week I would be considered a meatan. (or the former moniker: a meatatarian) But, I wanted to keep losing weight and I figured my exercise plan would be enhanced by broccoli, carrots, peas, cauliflower, eggplant, corn, green beans…I feel nauseous. I can’t even WRITE about these satanic garden losers. I want to eat something that formerly BREATHED, not a first cousin to dirt. I kept obsessing on one word as surely as Citizen Kane did just before he died as I nibbled away at a piece of squash, “Earthworm.”
I gave it a shot. I really did try. But, after two days I concluded I am destined to schmooze with cholesterol, continue on my artery-blocking bliss path and add to the nine pounds of undigested red meat lodged happily in my lower intestine.
I am a meat lover. I worship at Pizza Hut and Denny’s. I am the T-Rex of Home Town Buffet. I will have to compensate for my irresponsible dietary intakes with more time on the treadmill. I have never met a hamburger I didn’t like. In two days, I met an entire family of veggies that will never be my friends. They can storm me like the Alamo, but I will repel them with my trusty fork, Betsy!
I am sad that I let society down. I really thought it would be cool to be politically correct in a nutritional sort of way. But, I am not sure God created things green to inhabit my body. If He did, He sure must have been laughing when he designed asparagus. Unless it is steeped in butter and smothered in a luscious cream sauce, it will never have the remotest chance of infiltrating past my pit bull palate.
I wonder if Pizza Hut is open after midnight…
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