A few years ago, I went into the local supermarket to pick up a snack. I was in the mood for Strawberry Newtons, the Fig Newton's tasty sister. I looked on the shelves and finally found them. Without really taking a good look at the package I bought them and went home. Later that evening, I started opening the package and saw two words that can piss me off instantly, fat-free. I was boiling mad because I knew that I had not picked this product in hopes of supplementing my diet, I bought it to stuff my face with a tasty treat. Fighting down my irritation, I bit into the cookie. Let's just say I think the plastic tray tasted better than that shit!
Totally ready to take the blame for not taking the time to read the package carefully, I threw out the disgusting snack and went back to the store the next day. Horrified, I saw that the store only sold the fat-free, fake shit. Not one to make a big deal out of a little thing (yeah, right!), I looked for an employee to see if they either had more of the original cookies in the back or if they were getting a shipment soon. I ran into the store manager and a cashier. Both looked at me as if I had asked them to bake the fucking things themselves! They shook their heads and the manager informed me that they were only stocking the fat-free imposters. When I expressed my disgust at the fat-free, gross copy of a real cookie, they both said in unison, "but they're healthier." This brings me to the point of today's message.
When the hell do I, as a grown woman, get to choose what I eat? I'm well aware of what can happen when you shovel fattening treats into face. I could blow up to the size of a small car. And you know what? I'd fucking like the right to do that if I choose! Little does my local store know that I don't eat too many things in large quantities and I do get exercise on a regular basis and my cholesterol is perfectly normal. So why should they get to decide what I can and cannot eat? By substituting my favorite treat with an abomination to snack cravers in my local area, they are saying that I'm too stupid to eat properly and they need to make the decision for me. I say, fuck that! Let me eat cake!
I won't say that all fat-free foods are disgusting, some are downright delicious and hard to distinguish from their unhealthy twin. But taking the fat out of one of the things I like to eat won't make me suddenly decide that I am now healthy enough to run a marathon or drop a dress size. It means that they made it a little easier to only eat one cookie because who the fuck wants to eat cardboard as a snack? I then went back to the snack aisle to see what other treats they had decided were in desperate need of intervention. I was surprised to see that most of the fat-free shit was sitting next to their delicious sibling. So why single out my pleasure?
I went back to the manager and asked him why they didn't do that to the rest of the snacks and he informed me that over time, they will. I asked him why he was so eager to force me to shop at another store because I was sure I could find the shunned sweets I craved at another supermarket. He smiled and said that the company was only making them in fat-free. Not believing him, I left the store and went to the other local store and sure enough, only fat-free. Pissed off completely, I grabbed another snack that I enjoyed and headed home. On my drive back to my house I began to wonder just when I became too stupid to eat. I remembered a time when I could supersize my value meal at McDonald's without having everyone look at me like I ordered fried baby legs. I could eat the most delicious fries, cooked in animal grease and no one stood over my shoulder telling me that my heart was going to one day fly out of my chest and slap the shit out of me for enjoying a rare, unhealthy meal. I could order off of a restaurant menu without having to see hearts splashed across different items reminding me that if I didn't pick them, I was going to die. A simpler time when I could just open a bottle of Tylenol and the only thing to overcome was the child safety cap instead of needing tweezers, a buzz saw, night vision goggles, rubber gloves and a stethoscope, but that's a different topic for a different day.
I admit, there are times that I wouldn't choose the healthier option if I had any other choice and was pleasantly surprised to find that I preferred the lower fat version. I love wheat pasta because you can't taste the difference and neither can my kids, which is a HUGE bonus! The government does for me what I do for my kids. They make sure that I'm eating as healthy as I can. The difference is, I'm not the fucking government's kid, so stay the fuck out of my refrigerator!! As a mother, I do try to give them healthy snacks and make nutritious meals, but when I as an adult want to eat, let me fucking eat! Stop smacking my hand away from what I like to force me to eat what you'd like! If God had wanted us to diet, he would have made fat-free animals! Instead of saying, "these people are too stupid to do the right thing, so I'm going to make animals taste like crap and make tree bark taste like candy!" If he trusts me to eat, who is the government to go against his plan?
I know that there are people who don't learn good eating habits from their parents and I understand that they are trying to educate them. What I don't understand is what about us that knows better and wants to eat shit anyway? When they forced restaurants to ban trans fat, they also forgot to tell most of them how to keep the fucking flavor as well! They forgot that in America, we have to right to lick dirt off the floor if we want to! Over the years it's gotten to the point that they started sending home letters from the school telling us that our oldest child is in danger of being obese. Let's see, my 10 year old who is only a few inches shorter than me and weighs about a hundred pounds is in danger of one day becoming a school bus! Dear me! I thought the fact that he grows half a foot taller every night and plays football meant that we just had a normal healthy child on our hands. We are so blessed to have a school nurse look at him with calipers and a crystal ball to prevent us from killing him. Hell, if it wasn't for the completely qualified school district, we'd need to get him his own scooter to move his fat ass around on for his eleventh birthday! Crisis averted, thanks government! And my daughter who is barely hitting forty pounds soaking wet and just over three feet tall is in danger of becoming Kate Moss? You don't say! Perhaps I should feed my oldest child to my youngest to even out the whole thing. Or better yet, put her on a strict diet of happy meals, penny candy, and lard. That'll pack on the pounds. Or even still, I'll have the tubby child purge in a bowl for my anorexic daughter to slurp. Sound disgusting? So does the letter sent home telling me that my daughter has a BMI of 1%. What did they think, I was starving her to feed the other one? Or perhaps I was trying to make sure she made weight to join the varsity first grade cheerleading squad?
We have this wonderful thing called health insurance. With this medical marvel, we take our victims, I mean children to the doctor to get checkups every year. My kids have been poked and prodded by highly qualified pediatricians working with one of the best children's hospital in the entire country. Not once have they ever taken me into the consultation room to very quietly suggest to me that I begin to run my child around the neighborhood on a leash, dragging the family on a sled. And I certainly don't remember them sending us home with an iv bag to start shoving bacon grease into my starved daughter's veins in hope of making her ass spread across the room. What they told me was that I had healthy children. You hear that government? HEALTHY CHILDREN! And I didn't have to stick poison control stickers all over the refrigerator. I just had to use common sense. Now there's an idea! Use common sense to tell you that you need vitamins and a balanced diet mixed with age appropriate activates! Wow, I'm so smart, I deserve a cookie! D'oh!
I can end today's posting with some happy news. People agreed with me and now when I go to my local store, I'm so proud to see my original Strawberry Newtons! Yay me! I smile as I walk past them and head to the cereal aisle where I pick up a box of Rice Crispies and a bunch of bananas. I'm going to go home and have a bowl of cereal mixed with little chunks of banana and splashed with 2% milk. But not before I dump a cup of sugar on it! Take that! Victory tastes fucking sweet!
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