What is life without vittle-ity?

That was a decadent weekend. Yesterday involved pumping my body full of as many delicious carbs as I could. It was insane in the best kind of way. My girlfriend started the day off with some home made French toast. I’d never swirled cinnamon into my egg mix before, but it makes so much sense. Served with a side of sweet fried bananas (they caramelise like crazy) and a few fresh strawberries, drowned in classic Canadian maple syrup. All served with a glass of O.J. Mmmm. Eggs are healthy, right? The incredible, edible egg, cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast? We kind of killed it on everything else, but why else does Sunday morning exist??

A couple of hours later our bodies needed coffee, but not before stopping in at Bakerbots (that video is unintentionally terrifying) for cookie ice cream sandwiches. Yet again, it was Sunday, right? Not that I need justification to devour orange cardamom ice cream between an “everything” cookie. How they managed to perfectly infuse the meringue flavour into my girlfriend’s lemon meringue ice cream was a thing of wonder. The taste was all the necessary justification we needed. Walking in sunshine happily chomping away at a cool, sweet treat filled was a kind of transcendence the religiously inclined probably get from their Sunday mass. We were working on a different kind of mass altogether.

Later on we spent time with her family. For dinner we all piled over to East Side Mario’s for some family style dining. When I say family style, I mean it was the kind of place I would’ve flipped my shit over as a kid. The same sort of restaurant where you’d find traffic light coloured mocktails. It was an all you can eat pasta/pizza/salad/garlic bread kind of place, which invited the kind of gorging you’d expect. If you weren’t eating all you could, were you really getting your money’s worth? Are you some kind of chump? Are you gonna let The System beat you like that? As someone who loves, but rarely eats pasta I doubled down on the carbiness. Fettuccine Alfredo with chicken breast and doused with cheese. It wasn’t haute cuisine, but my “delicate” taste buds weren’t revolting either.

Today I thought back on everything I’d digested and it gave me pause. It wasn’t my consumption, but everything going on in my brain while I ate away that really set me back. When did the scales tip in a way that society decided we should both crave indulgence and feel like villains for doing so? The goal is to be healthy, right? But why is it that taking breaks from generally healthy patterns is held with such disdain? Yeah, I loved gorging myself because it tasted great, but I also felt guilty the whole day with a ton of self-auditing judgements. “Am I really allowed a treat? I just had one.” “Why am I chowing down when I’m just gonna feel shitty about this later?” “Have I done enough to deserve all these pasta based carbs?” “Why am I giving my body this if it’s not healthy?” “Have I had enough protein?” “Does I really need all this sugar?” “How have I been feeling about looking in the mirror lately?” “I’ve gotta be careful not to overdo it.” “Is this experience worth the calories?” “Am I acting against my goals and best interests here?”

The answer is, it’s just food. There’s a balance and it all comes out in the wash. The notion of attaching value and self worth to consumption patterns is fucking absurd. We’re more than what we eat and holding the two in parallel is reductive as shit (which is kind of the reductive form of food, so if the shoe fits…). What kind of joyless existence would be worth constant paralytic self-surveillance? Do I really need to feel guilty about eating pasta? Or are there bigger, more important existential crises to be had? Qualms of self-expression and discovery whose absence leaves me a lesser person?

I mean, I’ve never even been to Medieval Times. How do I live with myself?

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