There’s an unglamorous sentiment going around that nobody wants to talk about but that many of us closet cake-eaters are feeling: We hate being told to eat healthy.
Yes, that’s right. I’m unabashedly going to say that I don’t want to eat better. I want to eat doughnuts covered in sprinkles; I want to devour bacon and too much cheese; and I want to enjoy chocolate chip cookie dough by the spoonful.
I feel so strongly about this, in fact, that every time I hear someone mention how I absolutely have to try eating “clean” and how I will feel oh-so-amazingly perfect afterward, I just want to stuff the first cheeseburger I see into my mouth and wash it down with a pound of milkshake.
Granted, that’s probably not a good call, but the pomposity of some health fanatics can drive me to some extremely poor eating decisions.
I suppose I should clarify: It’s not eating better itself that I oppose. I’m learning to truly enjoy grilled veggies smattered with fresh ground pepper and (when you’re not looking) a bit of butter.
Rather, the problem I’m having has sprung from a great aversion, to which other annoyed french fry lovers can attest, to being told scornfully what kind of life decisions I should be making.
As a variety of new dietary lifestyles and fads have popped up over the decades, so too have obnoxious proponents of them. Good people I used to sit down and eat a solid meal of meat and potatoes with have suddenly turned against me, embracing gluten-free this or paleo that.
It’s horrific. The worst part is, it’s clear they are healthier, happier and less stressed out. That’s usually not in question unless you meet someone misusing ketosis or hooked on some sort of cleanse diet.
For a moment in time, these successful individuals are inspiring. Their struggle to improve their lives, take hold of their destinies and sacrifice perfectly good carbs is a triumph that all mankind can learn from.
And then they go and ruin it all by getting on a high horse and telling me how much I need to change my lifestyle to match theirs. Suddenly, these people transform into experts in what my body needs and what it should never be exposed to. It becomes apparent that the things I’ve been eating for the last couple of decades are just absolutely going to destroy my life, give me cancer and probably end the world.
Well, healthy people, knock it off. Some of us don’t want to hear what you have to say about whey protein or quinoa. We go to this thing called a doctor for that kind of advice, not to the person who lost five pounds by strictly eating kale for three weeks.
An individual’s dietary needs can vary quite a bit depending on a variety of factors, including age, gender and activity level, according to livestrong.com. The method that works perfectly for one individual may make another person miserable and unhealthy. Young women, for example, generally need about a half a cup fewer vegetables a day then men do. Men, in turn, often need less iron than their female counterparts.
Why then do so many men with no credentials other than their own personal experience and 20 minutes of Google searching feel the need to tell me how I should be eating?
Even more frustrating is that no matter how horribly a person may eat, it’s just one life choice that they’re messing up. Overindulgers like myself are still people, and we may make better decisions in areas of our lives that healthy eaters are failing miserably at.
Whether their vice is smoking, drinking too much coffee or eating deep-fried Oreos from Fire on the Mountain, judging people strictly on one area of their lives is arrogant and short-sighted. Eating healthy and making better life choices is something that looks a little different for each person, and food fanatics need to take a hike.