Okay, I borrowed the line above from The Simpsons. Homer was referring to television, but at this stage, I think it applies to food for me. I’ve been bouncing on and off a vegan diet and I’ve watched how important food is in my life. Food is important. Yeah, frakkin’ newflash for me. But I’m slow. Very, very, very, very slow.
Eating, essential, is about refueling. At the most basic level, food is just fuel for our muscles. Now, I’ve met people who have used Coors Light and Marlboro Menthols as fuel, but it just doesn’t work in the long run. Gotta eat at some point. Even Tracy Gold. Or should I say Karen Carpenter. Ugh, I can’t go there. Eating disorders are rough. I’ve known heroin addicts straight outta San Quentin who’ve had an easier time of it than those with eating disorders. So God bless Karen Carpenter, where ever she is. My prayers are with ye.
I’ve spent months at a time in the food-as-fuel mode. I eat. I exercise. I sleep. Wanna donut, Aaron? Nope. That ain’t fuel. That’s poison. Want the best fuel around? Nuts, berries, green leafy vegetables, and quinoa. Mix liberally. And then go bike up Mount Evans, 10,000 feet of climbing. Yee-haw.
I’ve been there, food-as-fuel. Ain’t there now. I want a donut. Yes, a donut is eating death with a hole in it. I feel the death in my blood stream. I’m dying, I’m dying, help me. Somebody give me some kale, quick. Donuts are so good. They are deep-fried joy. Like funnel cakes. Funnel cakes are donuts unleashed. Funnel cakes are the next logical progression in human evolution. Whoever invented the funnel cake needs to win a Nobel Peace Prize.
So there is the pleasure of eating. And there is camaraderie. Lemme tell ya, you go out to dinner with a bunch of carnivores and you’re a vegan, well, it ain’t happy and pretty. I once read a story about a teetotaler in the 1800’s who wandered into a camp of whiskey-slurping cowboys, and guess what? Yeah, they got the proverbial rope and strung him up for not drinking. Like in the Pace Picante commercials. Which is a vegan product. Hmm, vegan cowboys on Mars free cattle and duke it out with the local carnivore law enforcement. Ian Healey, there’s a book for you to write.
And this all leads us to food as comfort food. I was alone at college, ostracized because I ostracized myself. Ain’t gonna let nobody reject me first. I suck, and let me tell you how much, right away. Anyhow, I was far from home, I was eating ice cream alone , and thinking about my mom, and I got weepy. Food as mother, comforting us when life is cruel.
So for us crazy humans, food ain’t just fuel. Maybe the trick is to learn how to balance the different faces of food. So on a busy day, when food is just fuel, you eat like that. And when you go out with friends, you celebrate. And when you need some chocolate, you eat chocolate.
But my problem is that every day I want to comfort myself with food and run away from life with food and eat and eat and eat. Or I flip the switch and get all monkish. I’ll have the brown rice and mineral water, please.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’ve had some wonderful, healthy meals that were divine. It’s not either\or. I think in those terms, because I have black and white thinking. But it doesn’t have to be like that. You can eat healthy and eat deliciously, but it does take some creativity and time and open-mindedness. Hamburgers are easier in the short term. In the long term, it’s death between two buns. The name of my next book. DEATH BETWEEN TWO BUNS. It’s gonna be a romance. Oh, snap!
Ideally, I’d love for us to celebrate the vegan, the vegetarian, the healthy eater. That when I order the salad, with oil and vinegar on the side, the beefy, bearded biker dude says, “Right on, Aaron. You go, boy.” Instead, he generally ties me to his hog and does donuts around the parking lot while I lose skin. Donuts in the parking lot. Yum. Donuts.
