By a guy who once ate a full cheesecake standing up in front of the fridge and called it “portion control”.
Lately, I’ve been trying—and I use that word with the full weight of British understatement—to eat healthier. Not because I want to be one of those people who owns activewear in non-ironic colors, but because apparently, I should “take care of myself.”
But here’s the problem: I like the taste of unhealthy food. I mean, really like it. The usual suspects—sweets, donuts, pasta drowning in cheese, Filipino food sent from heaven by a deep-fried angel. Italian food—because nothing screams “health crisis” like a molten lasagna the size of a shoebox or a plate of carbonara that could singlehandedly power a small village. Garlic bread? Yes. Pizza? Yes. Tiramisu? Absolutely! If it’s got an unhealthy amount of cheese, baked in olive oil, or smothered in cream, I’m there with a fork, a napkin, and no regrets.
Ice cream in any form. And pastries? Don’t even start. Put a tray of warm baked goods in front of me and I lose all self-control faster than a Labrador in a bacon factory. Pastries are my Achilles’ heel—if Achilles was shaped like a croissant.
And then, of course, there’s steak. All kinds. Ribeye, thick and marbled like Michelangelo’s idea of dinner. Tenderloin—delicate, soft, so good it should be illegal in five countries. New York strip, sirloin, even flank if it’s done right. I’d sell my car for a properly seared porterhouse with garlic butter. I mean, how can quinoa compete with that? It can’t. It’s birdseed with a PR team.
Then there’s the cost. Why is it that healthy food is so expensive? If you’re saving money by not using pesticide, chemical fertilizers, and other questionable stuff, shouldn’t that make it cheaper? But no. Organic kale costs more than steak. Avocados are priced like precious minerals. And don’t get me started on eggs. One carton says “free-range,” another says “pasture-raised,” and both taste exactly like the one from the battery hen that spent its life in a wire box listening to the chicken equivalent of death metal. But apparently, we’re all meant to be civilized about our food ethics now, even while we casually exploit chickens with better resumes than me.
Years ago, I took a side job working for an automation firm. One day, they sent me to a chicken processing plant. That was a fun Monday. The smell outside alone was enough to ruin soup. The workers, bless them, tried to tell me it was “the smell of money.” No. It was chicken excrement. Inside? Think Blade Runner, but with feathers. It was a fully automated industrial death maze for poultry. I won’t describe what I saw in detail because frankly, I’d like you to keep reading. I was only there to calibrate equipment, but all I could think was, “So this is how the nuggets get made.”
And that’s the thing, isn’t it? There’s an existential gap between the horror show inside those factories and the lovely shrink-wrapped “boneless skinless” product at the supermarket. That disconnect is one of the reasons we still eat meat. I remember a survey in the early 2000s—someone asked British kids where chicken comes from. A whopping 90% of them said, with total sincerity, “Tesco.” For those not from the UK, Tesco is like Walmart, but with fewer guns and more Marmite.
After that, I refused to take another food processing assignment. It was too disturbing, even for someone who’s a fan of Popeye’s Louisiana Kitchen.
But it’s not just meat, is it? Now the healthy-eating evangelists are coming for the fruit. I heard someone say—dead serious—that grapes, mangoes, cherries, all the delicious ones, contain too much sugar. What’s left then, a lemon rind and a slow death? But I’ve never met anyone who got fat from a bag of cherries. Or someone who blamed their type 2 diabetes on too many blueberries. So I’ve made my own ruling: fruit is good.
Fish? Same story. They tell you, “Don’t eat too much salmon—mercury!” Or “Don’t eat crab—cholesterol!” So what are we meant to eat then? Grass?
Speaking of grass, why is there an entire aisle in every supermarket dedicated to cereal? Who eats that much cereal? There are hundreds. Some are branded “healthy” like they’re selling vitamins in cardboard, and others—my kind—are unapologetically brilliant. Fruit Loops. Bran. Frosted Flakes. All Sugar-coated, nostalgia-soaked cardboard box. None of it healthy. All of it wonderful.
But I’m trying. I really am. I’ve been resisting the siren song of fast food. Which, by the way, is a daily battle when you live in America, the land of 1,200-calorie cheeseburgers from Five Guys. That’s right. One burger. You don’t eat it—you climb it.
Everyday you’ve got the usual temptations: Pizza, Taco Bell, Chick-fil-A, McDonald’s, Burger King, Dunkin’. All of them practically breathing through your car window like an ex with a milkshake. And the restaurants? Oh, they’re good. They’re brilliant. But my arteries scream louder than my stomach these days.
I want to eat healthier. I really do. But it’s hard. And expensive. And not even that fun. So maybe tomorrow. I don’t drink, I don’t smoke—that should buy me some credit, surely?
For now, I’ll settle for fruit, fish, and avoiding the nugget factory.
And steak.
And pastries.
Sometimes. Maybe.
Fine. I had both this morning.
Shut up.
Notes to Ponder – Fast food, as much as it hits the spot after a long day, has become one of the biggest contributors to the global health mess we’re in. Every day, more and more people are facing obesity, diabetes, heart issues—you name it—all because it’s cheap, quick, and everywhere. And even when we try to eat healthy, we’re still trying to avoid hormones, antibiotics, and pesticides like it’s some twisted nutritional minefield. A balanced diet shouldn’t be a luxury, but here we are, paying more for vegetables than we do for a greasy combo meal.
Now, about genetically modified foods—let’s be honest. It’s had some bad PR over the years, but the truth is we’ve been modifying crops for centuries. Corn, potatoes, strawberries—they’re all the result of human tinkering to make them better, stronger, and more useful. And in a world dealing with climate change and more people than ever before, GM food has quietly become a lifesaver for many. So yes, eat as healthy as you reasonably can, get some exercise, drink water—not magic potions, just good water—and try not to wait until something breaks before you start giving your body a bit of care.
Thanks for dropping by my little corner of the world. If the story gave you a chuckle or made you pause and think, a like would be mighty kind. And if you’re feeling adventurous, well, hitting that subscribe button is like pulling up a chair and staying a while—always room for one more.
I subscribe back, by the way. It’s my way of saying, “Welcome to the club—snacks are in the back, good times up front!”
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A Kings 
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