I really hate salad. This may come as a surprise to some of you, given how much I consume. But it's true.
I eat salad at mealtimes, but I don't consider it a food. It's a pile of leaves, or of chunky vegetables, or (if the chef has gotten all fancy-like) finely chopped sticks. It's something I put in my mouth to stop myself from putting other things in there.
Consider: if I go out for lunch and (because I am feeling reckless, or particularly thin) order a sandwich instead of a salad, the server will generally offer a choice of fries or salad. This isn't a real choice. If offered fries, who wants salad? No human being. It's simple evolutionary biology: you wanna stay alive and reproduce while that scrawny sucker over there keels over in the middle of hunting and gathering or being preyed on? Pick the fries, dummy! They're full of life-sustaining calories! Also, they taste WAY better, and that's why evolution gave you tastebuds. So there.
But I'll order the salad (with dressing on the side), because in today's world, to stay alive and have a chance at reproduction, I am far better off to limit my calories instead. What's more, I'll eat it first, which generally means that I end up too full to finish my sandwich. Watch me next time we eat out. You'll see. If I start with the sandwich, that means I was really hungry. If I order fries, then I have either thrown all caution to the wind or reached the halfway mark in a half-marathon training program, where my body burns through what I give it so fast that I either eat everything I can get my hands on as fast as I can or I EAT YOU. (Or else I just felt like some fries. It happens. I'm unpredictable. It's part of my charm.)
The other thing I really hate, for the record, is when people mess with my plans. I don't like routine, but I like feeling that I have some measure of control over my day, you know? So yesterday, when I was informed that I would not be able to leave my desk at lunch and should therefore bring something from home, I got twitchy. And today, when I woke up and realized that the only lunch I'd be able to assemble from what I had on hand was salad, I got angry.
There's a tupperware container filled with resentment sitting by my briefcase, and I can't wait for noon, so I can dig in.
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