Innocently, I posted a picture of the baby loaf on Facebook. And soon a few of my skinny friends started commenting about how I better not eat that unhealthy white bread. In fact, while I chew, I will be able to hear my arteries clog. Didn’t I know that I should only buy whole wheat bread?
Bleh bleh bleh.
Uh. Yes, I know that people my age flog the whole wheat stuff. But I ain’t one of them.
I am not wasting almost $4 on a loaf of fresh, whole grain cardboard.
That tasteless slab of heavy healthiness happens to gag me.
In fact, more than a few of those healthy, over-50 food choices send me right on over the edge.
For example, yogurt makes me projectile vomit. I don’t care how much fruit I try to dump on it, I can still taste the slime.
And you also won’t find me grabbing at the Brussels sprouts or most of that other unidentifiable green stuff in the produce aisle.
It might not sound like it, but believe me, I have cleaned up my act a lot.
After many years of being a hardcore Little Debbie cake lover, I retired cold turkey.
I don’t buy cookies anymore. I can’t even remember when I opened a can of Spaghettios or Beefaroni.
And so, to ward off the clinical depression about healthy eating when all I really want is fried bologna on white bread, I have become a bargainer.
When I am offered a donut at work, I might break into a sweat but I still say no.
And so, later, I bargain with myself that because I didn’t cram an entire circle of yeast in my mouth, I deserve a treat … something like a piece of white bread with butter and jelly smeared all over it.
When I muster enough control to walk right past the big fat tub of butter pecan ice cream, I congratulate myself and promise that later on I will have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
This personal approach to behavior management reminds me of something I did 20 years ago to break myself from biting my fingernails. I told myself that if I bit my fingernails that day, I would have to wait until the next day to get my mail. And I happened to adore opening the mailbox.
That plan didn’t work very well. I bit my nails until I lost my teeth. You can’t bite your nails very well with dentures, you know. So that problem took care of itself.
I don’t eat much bread anyway.
But when I do, I want it to be the spongy white kind.
I don’t think an occasional piece of bread will be what takes me out. But if it is, I will be leaving with a smile on my face and jelly on my breath.