I Eat Food

It's startling how much inspiration there is for me to write this blog. Because I love food. Dearly. And in the dog world, I'd be the chunkier one who eats what the little dogs leave in their bowls. In the grade school kids at school world, I'm the one who wants Swiss rolls every day.

I can't even begin to recount where this affair with food began, so I'm going to just begin with the present moment and then flash back if you will. It's 8:55 pm right now and I just began sipping on a chocolate chip milkshake from Dairy Queen. Thanksgiving was three days ago and I followed suit with the rest of America and ate a bunch and went back for seconds (and thirds--is that too much to confess?). I had to travel 10 hours each way to and from South Dakota, so it required a hefty amount of sit time, which I'm good at, and it required that for lunch I'd stop at McDonalds and buy chicken nuggets (but that's a story to come). Anyway, it was just last weekend that I was in Chicago for a conference and so I ate out every meal there, too. The rooms don't have refrigerators.

Nevertheless, after 8ish days of a fast food and turkey marathon, I'm curled up on my couch drinking (eating?) this dreadfully amazing cherry-on-top milkshake and I've got a volleyball game in less than 24 hours.

This particular milkshake was introduced by a friend from high school who was also a Dairy Queen worker. She ordered it for me once, and I've never thought more highly of another ice cream variation since. It was love at first sight.

So tonight the adorable DQ girl (how is she not 300 lbs?) handed me the milkshake through the window. Immediately I scooped the cherry out with my straw and went in for a lickful of whipped cream. When I turned to roll up my window, she was still watching me. It must have looked like something to the equivalent of a hoarder in a thriftshop.

If this be an all out confessional, I'd like to say this about the realm of fast food: My name is Laurissa and I am also a McDonald's chicken nugget addict.

Chicken nuggets were always the food I wouldn't take a second look at. Why go for childish nuggets (with nothing on them!) when you could have a double McGrande cheeseburger? Besides, all the moms were tearing up tiny bitier sizes for their kids. Even as a kid, if I had to eat nuggets I expected a stinking good toy.

But then I met Tera. Tera likes Disney Channel and the Jonas Brothers (though she's talked about them significantly less since I've met her and since she's dated James [nice work James]). Tera also likes chicken nuggets. So when we went to McDonalds, she'd always get them. One day I averted my affections from my burger and said, "Can I have one?" (Big mistake.) "Sure," said Tera. And then I ate a bite and savored it. Then I ate another one. Then it escalated into a twice a week occurrence. I knew it was getting bad when I told the history teacher down the hall, "I love chicken nuggets." He replied, "That's a healthy snack" obviously in a sarcastic way, and I really sincerely thought, "Yeah! It is."

I spent the month of June nugget fasting.

That was a dark time.

But it's been getting there again. Another friend just introduced me to spicy mustard and it. is. delicious. dangit. guhhhhh.

Of course, neither the milkshake nor the nuggets can compare to the number one savory piece of food in history--bacon. It's come to a point where I can just look at a pig and say, "mmmmm" unconsciously because I know there's bacon in there somewhere.

Where did this come from? This love (and devotion and emotion) for food, but namely bacon? The only way I know to explain it is that Grandpa was a pig farmer and ate a lot of pig and so did his ten kids from Iowa. A lot of bacon and a lot of corn on the cob, but certainly bacon. Bacon is what rolls down the fronts of our shirts at Nieuwsma reunions. It's what my sister wrapped the Thanksgiving turkey in. It's what you can wrap most things in. It's what you go camping with. It's what makes a burger better. It's something Lady Gaga would consider an accessory. It's. so. good.

I saw chocolate covered bacon at a store the other day, and I don't think I'm above trying it. Just once. But then that's what I said about nuggets.

How can something seem so wrong and so right at the same time? How is eating food a lot like participating in life?

Like this DQ milkshake. I left it alone for three minutes and already it's turning on me, melting and stuff. Lesson learned. Don't neglect stuff and whatever. Thanks, food.