Calories - Can't Live Without 'Em, But Don't Wanna Count 'Em (A Love-Hate Relationship With the Fuel of Life)

 Let's begin by saying something honest about the foods we eat: the worse they are for us, the more we seem to enjoy them. That's true for me anyway. I love calorie-rich foods. I'm a red meat and potato guy. Also a chip guy, chocolate bar guy, pretzel guy, popcorn...well, you get the point. And that point is: If I set aside all those things and actively chose a salad, my system would probably slip into toxic shock and take me out! Lunch is a cruel mistress, and calories her weapon of choice.

However, something has to be said about calories themselves: they are the sneakiest little invisible traitors on the planet. Yeah, I thought it was murder hornets, too. But no, it's calories. Because they are everywhere. They lurk behind innocent croutons and hide in your "no sugar added" creamer like a ninja assassin on a stealth mission. They hide mockingly behind that "just one bite" of cheesecake you thought wouldn't count because you stole it off somebody else's plate. Wrong. Incorrect. Misled. Calories are the dietary equivalent of glitter at a craft party - just when you thought you cleaned them all up they yell "surprise" and attach themselves to your left buttock and won't let go.

The Myth of Serving Sizes

"Suggested serving sizes" are what I like to call delusional fragments of false hope in a denial-based glaze. The back of a bag of chips recently had the nerve to tell me that a serving size is eleven chips. ELEVEN!! There's no way that's not a typo, right? Eleven chips isn't even a snack - it's a deep breath. Seriously, I'm a big guy. I accidentally inhale eleven chips when deciding what flavor I actually want. And cereal boxes: "One serving = 3/4 cup." What? I hope they mean the Stanley Cup. Who in their right mind is measuring cereal with baking equipment? I pour cereal from the heart, not a graduated cylinder, Nestle.

The Calorie Whisperer (A.K.A. Your Fitness App)

Fitness apps are supposed to help, but are actually just smug little digital snitches pretending to look out for you when all they really want is to starve you to death - as slowly as possible. If I had to choose a name for a fitness app, it would be "Calor-E" - because to me that's the way they all sound: robotic and judgmental. You input your lunch as "one chicken salad sandwich" and Calor-E whirs, pings, and lights up like a prison spotlight searching for escaped con...diments.

Calor-E: "That sandwich contains 720 calories. Would you prefer to log the shame now or save it for later as night anxiety #7?

Me: "I added lettuce!"

Calor-E: "Lettuce make something perfectly clear; that mayo was doing most of the heavy lifting.

Condescending little crystal faced wristwatch controlling bad pun making know-it-all smug as a urinal puck in a swimming pool twirp, isn't he?

It makes for one of the most toxic human/modern technology relationships. I think most people would log everything honestly for about two days and then start gaslighting the app: "Did I eat three hamburgers and two hot-dogs at the company picnic, or one patty with no bun and a raisin?" or "Was that regular peanut butter on my toast this morning or the air-fried kale version that looks and tastes like wet cardboard from a blender?" When Calor-E became too accusatory, most of us would walk away - until the next Monday, when out of guilt we return with empty promises and an emptier smoothie.

Cheat Day Carnage:

Okay, sweet, the cheat day is here!! That one glorious day that is your reward for being so strong despite temptation all through the week. The day that you can indulge yourself just a little bit. Hah! Who are we kidding? Cheat days are the Zeus of the mythical culinary world of grease. As well as sugar, salt, and enough carbs and red meat to give your grandchildren high cholesterol. It starts innocently like "I deserve a slice of pizza" and ends up "I ate the entire party-sized deluxe with extra cheese and a side of bacon." In the morning you wake up full of hope and have that protein shake so the rest of the day you can treat yourself, and two hours later your eating directly from a tub of raw cookie dough and thinking "I added almonds and peanuts, so, it's like, trail mix."

On cheat days, some people (no names) become the love child of Betty Crocker and Gordon Ramsey, baking muffins, frying bologna, and throwing cinnamon on everything like Dr. Frankenstein trying to bring a snickerdoodle to life. "I'm experimenting with a new powdered sugar and butterscotch donut casserole that doubles as self-care, Mom!"

Salad (A.K.A. the Great Deceiver)

Here's the part where we pay tribute to the deceptive villains of healthy eating. Yes, I'm glaring at you, Caesar salad. The leafy disguise of righteousness worked for a while, but now we appreciate you for what you are - croutons, bacon bits, and a dressing that you could fill nail holes in drywall with. You're a BLT in a bowl; except the tomatoes were thrown out because they rode that edge of possibly adding nutritional value. What about smoothies served in sterilized glasses? That works, too, until you realize one day you just drank 700 calories of liquified tropical dishwasher tab with a hint of banana.

And don't get me started on the "lite" stuff - lies in lower case letters that are so deceiving we can't even bring ourselves to spell it correctly. Light mayo? Light beer? I recently enjoyed a "light" carrot cake muffin so filled with low-fat cream cheese icing that it had more sugar than a funnel cake made of cotton candy. Et tu, Brute?

Calorie-Free Delusions

We have developed coping mechanisms, and thus our declaration: We, having been appointed by the people, of the people, and for the people, do solemnly adopt the following truths as precious and sacred:

1. If you eat it while standing up, you're exercising enough to negate it.
2. If no one sees you eat it, you're technically fasting.
3. If it originated on someone else's plate, it qualifies as a taste and not a meal regardless of portion size.
4. If you eat a salad after desert, it resets your maximum daily sugar intake.
5. A fridge raid after midnight is tomorrow's problem.
6. If the cookie is broken, the calories fell out.

These are not lies. They are coping strategies, Doc!

Moderation - The Least Tasty Option

Oh, the humanity! Someone suggested enjoying all things in moderation. Of course, we all probably realize that some people have enough willpower to use moderation to their benefit. I know them. You know them. We dislike them fiercely at social gatherings. They're the ones who have one bite of cake and push the plate away saying things like "That's enough for me" or "I couldn't possibly..." What are you trying to do to the rest of us? If I could stop at one bite I wouldn't be ranting about it on this blog while also trying to create a recipe for making nachos out of grilled cheese sandwiches and cheese puffs.

Moderation is like doing yoga with a bear: theoretically possible but not something I'm willing to try on a Friday night when I have the football game on and an emotional support t-bone on the grill.

Finale: Just Embrace It

Speaking of emotional support food, I've yet to meet anyone who can honestly claim they've never treated themselves to a midnight fridge raid. There's nothing quite like standing in front of an open refrigerator and basking in it's light while eating cold lasagna with a fork you pulled from the dishrack. In your underwear. Come on, we've all done it. Come on. You can be honest. C'mon.

Okay, fine. Deny it all you want. But here's the point: C'MON MAN!! (Sorry, I hate it when my digital temper erupts like that.) Here's the actual point: Calories aren't evil, they're just misunderstood, you know? Like that friend who loves you and means well but always wants to give you unsolicited advice in front of a crowd with a megaphone. Or a blog. We truly need them in our lives, but we don't want to deal with them during moments of emotional fragility when there's a double-decked cheesecake nearby.

Calories are part of the grand, messy, and lovably absurd in our lives and while it's true that we should aim for some kind of balance, it's not always easy to do. Sometimes you have to eat that quinoa and spinach salad. Sometimes you should enjoy some fresh fruit instead of the green Jello and jelly bean creation your niece made. But sometimes, you need to eat that fudge brownie, and just like Dad, dance it off in your speedo and tube socks in the backyard. Now that I've said it, you can't unsee it. Come on!!

So let's embrace calories for what they are; the secret candy sprinkles of joy on our carb-filled lives. See them. Love them. And definitely pretend they don't exist next Saturday when you find yourself in front of a drive-thru with no witnesses.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to enjoy a double-cheese hamburger and a triple thick milkshake while I edit this blog for posting. And yes, I am going to log it as cardio.

[Enjoy this post and would like another food-adjacent story? Check out the short story "The Great Spaghetti War of '87" now available on Amazon and Kindle. Loosely based on true events.]