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FacebookJust to prove I’m not a racist, I hate white actors, too–I’ve hated Kevin Costner ever since I was a kid. I’m not sure when I realized it, but I’ve always felt the guy is a total fraud. In the early 90s, he was considered the best actor in Hollywood. But even as a kid, I could tell the guy was as wooden as my kitchen table. I never saw any emotion out of him–he went through all his films as if he was doped up on valium. Remember his ‘Cajun’ accent in “JFK?” How about when he was the only New Englander in “Thirteen Days” without an accent? “Dances with Wolves” sucked and he’s been overrated ever since then. I don’t even know why he’s considered a star. When was the last time one of his movies was a hit?
I don’t eat right–I know it. But it doesn’t take a genius to know that meals of pizza, burgers, tacos, and Capt’n Crunch isn’t the key to a healthy lifestyle. The thing is, I’m not what you call a broccoli and corn kinda guy. I’m a picky eater and given the choice, there’s no way I’m eating vegetables–not when cookies are available. And ever since I learned to feed myself, I decided to cut out the vegetables and increase the sweets. Why, I even recall when I first moved out of my folks’ house I stocked my cupboard with a wide array of cookies. Didn’t waste any space on cans of corn or rice–not when the grocery store had an ample supply of Chips Ahoy.
While personal preference has a lot to do with, I also possess a mental block that prevents me from eating vegetables–the mere idea of vegetables makes me wanna spew (being equipped with a very sensitive gag reflex works against trying new tastes and flavors). Cauliflower, carrots, and celery are all items that make me queasy. I can’t force myself to down it because I have some sorta mental block. I don’t like the feeling of new textures in my mouth. And perhaps most importantly, none of the previously mentioned items are deep-fried or covered in chocolate sauce.
I know my flaws; I know my limitations. I never expect anyone to cater to me. During family dinners, I eat what I like and avoid anything green. I don’t expect anyone to cook anything differently for me. I don’t want to be a problem. I’m a big boy and can take care of myself.
The thing is, now that I’m in a steady relationship that is heading towards cohabitation, The Girlfriend and I often have meals together. Actually, we have every meal together. Besides lunches at work, we like to have dinner together when I get home from work. I’ll admit, playing house is nice (plus the food always tastes better when someone else cooks it), but I was starting to worry that perhaps The Girlfriend catered too much towards my unhealthy tastes.
When we first started dating, she spoke of fish and salads the way a pedophile talks of kindergarten. The drool often gathered in the corner of her mouth as she gushed orgasmicly. Unfortunately, I like fish and salads about as much as I like six-year old boys–you’ll never find any of them on my menu. For a girl who liked to eat healthy, we had pizza, burgers, and tacos way too much.
A few months ago, The Girlfriend bought a scale. I’m not sure why (if I knew how much I weighed, there’d be no denying being overweight). Nothing ruins a weekend like weighing yourself: in the time we’ve been dating, The Girlfriend gained an undisclosed a mouth of weight. I’m not gonna mention how much (because she reads this and will kill me), but let’s just say it’s too much.
It wasn’t supposed to be that way. Actually, the plan was for me to change my ways–eat her healthy foods. I was gonna try some salads or vegetables. It wasn’t supposed to be drastic–baby steps until I adopted an all-green diet. The food might taste awful, but at least I’d be eating healthy…’cause cookies for breakfast can only get you so far.
My intentions were good. Her eating preferences were good. Being healthy was good. Losing weight was good.
I guess this just goes to show you that evil will always triumph over good.