Today, I did not eat at a restaurant. In part, it’s ’cause I ain’t goin’ out like that. Like what? Like this:
I once witnessed a morbidly obese woman in a moo moo at a restaurant discuss how her new exercise regimen was helping her breathe better. Thereafter, she commenced to eat a sky high pyramid of biscuits. At least it was a food pyramid?
I’ve also sat with someone as she shared high hopes for her new weight loss medication – while contemporaneously dipping a fried chicken leg into mashed potatoes and . . . wait for it . . . a separate vat of gravy.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not mocking these folks. Please be reminded that an Amish buffet catapulted me into this restaurant-free crusade. And when I observed the lady in the moo moo, I was playing steak with some high school kids. We’re all susceptible. All broken. Restaurants have marketed themselves into a position of perceived necessity. The gargantuan portion sizes are measured by a system that Americans don’t use or understand. Folks don’t stand much of a chance. But, because I want to avoid obesity related illnesses, because I want to perform at the highest level I can, and because I’m too cheap to buy new pants – I stay out of restaurants.