People who obsess about the food they eat are irritating. People who obsess about the food others eat are contemptible.
With those observations in mind, I’m trying to decide who’s more annoying: the “Fat! Fat! Oh my God, do you know how much fat is in that? There must be at least 12 grams of fat in there!” people of the `90s or the “Carbs! Carbs! Oh my God, do you know how many carbs are in that? There must be at least 30 grams of carbs in there!” people of the `00s.
It’s a close call, but I think the anti-carbohydrate freaks are winning. (I like saying the full word -- carbohydrates -- around these types. They get visibly antsy and disdainful, realizing they’re in the company of one who is not “a true believer.”)
About six or seven years ago, when this craze was a mere fad, I worked with a woman who, I swear, counted the number of grapes and peanuts she included in her lunch. Little did I know what we were in for.
On a related note, let me add the sidewalks in many parts of Philadelphia are narrow, this being an old city and all, and are made even more narrow, or more narrowly passable, when large portions are covered with ice, as they are on this 25-degree morning.
If you and your friends want to jog -- excuse me, go running -- on these narrow sidewalks under such conditions, and insist upon doing so three abreast, I feel pretty confident I’m not the one who is obligated to yield the right of way. (And to the joggers from this morning, don’t worry, my arm doesn’t hurt too much, thanks for asking. Oh, wait, you didn’t ask. Never mind.)
That’s all. Tipping the scales at a healthy 132 pounds today (BMI=19.5), I’m signing off with the message, “Moderation in everything.”
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