La Vache qui Rit

I've been a hardcore junk food junkie my whole life. Well, let's say at least since I'm 19 or so. As a kid, Kix cereal was my version of a sugar-fest, since my parents didn't allow me to have Lucky Charms. But in college, look out! Bring on the bagels and Count Choc-u-la.

Lately though, and especially since reading this, I've been thinking a lot about what I eat. I really like the idea of considering whether my great-grandmother would recognize what I'm eating - there was no Laughing Cow in the 1800s, no such thing as "cheez." There's something fundamentally not-right about "cheez," when you come down to it; it's the same convenience/aversion that I have to strip malls and SUVs.

It's going to be quite an adjustment to me, as I find most of the patrons of Whole Foods to be repellent, let alone the produce. It's going to be a gradual shift, too, as my poor beleagured organs will need to stop needing all that orange powder.

I've associated this type of change with "growing up," as in something i never want to do. But I have to do something, as I might become visible from the Hubble pretty soon. Just kidding. It's not really a weight issue for me, as that's just a number; it's about (at least occasionally, if not more often) making a better set of choices. How boring and adult. Goddamn it.