Not So Jolly Green Giant

You know how I sometimes get super angry about stuff that doesn't seem important? It's happening again. Someone gave me one of Michael Pollan's books. Someone who will ask what I think of it. I won't be able to get away with the truth.

The truth is that I have purposely avoided Pollan's books. Up to now I've been really successful. Every time one comes up I can say, "Cool, what did you think of it?" Nine times out of ten I'm not called on to contribute to the conversation after that. No matter how long it goes on.

To be fair, I don't think he's full of shit or anything. I don't expect that eating more natural foods is going to hurt anyone. I just don't want to read about it or have my diet analyzed or be handed one more recipe for kale. Is it still kale? Then, no thank you.

Right there is where my problem actually lies. Because Pollan does a decent job of leading with the fact that we should be eating unprocessed foods so it sounds like you can just eat the natural foods you like. Which is true if you skip over the "mostly vegetables" rule he's got in there. I won't be a cliche and say I don't like vegetables but I will say that the vegetables I do like are the ones that, when "the way" is being preached, come under the category of "except those." By "mostly vegetables" we're meant to understand broccoli, cauliflower, spinach, kale, peppers and the like. I enjoy carrots and sweet potatoes and peas almost without fail. I'm a pretty big fan of squash, I guess. Spinach is the enemy. All greens are the enemy. I can and will eat broccoli, cauliflower, brussels sprouts, uncooked bell peppers, green beans among other things but my tolerance is low. Mushrooms and eggplant? Let us not speak of them.

At which point someone is bound to recommend that at least I have fruit to snack on. Bananas have all the greatest nutrients, they bubble. I'll try not to squeeze your neck too hard while I lean in close to impress upon you that I would rather you peeled me than made me eat a banana.

I am a girl with rules about her food. I always have been. Certain things squeak in my teeth, others have a detestable texture, still others just taste like homemade ass. In the last three years I have cautiously, deliberately and with prejudice redefined those rules for better health and less weight on my aging bones. I'll read the goddamned book and I'll comment on it nicely and I won't contradict his, I'm sure, super healthy ideas. But you will pry these Thin Mints from my cold, dead hands. If that's sooner rather than later, so be it.