Some days I have a hard time finding the balance between eating healthy and eating yummy.  Not that there isn’t plenty of enjoyable healthy foods that I regularly partake of.  It’s just that triple fudgy brownies and biscuits with gravy tend to fall exclusively into the second category, and I want those too.  It can get complicated.  For instance, chicken is a healthy food, but what if I want mine with a pile of fluffy dumplings swimming in creamy gravy or fried all golden brown and crispy, and the truth is I don’t really like boneless skinless chicken, which obviously contains far less fat and calories but also delivers far less flavor and a rubbery texture.

I have read several books on nutrition and the relationship between food and maintaining health or the lack thereof.  Who wouldn’t choose the option of a vibrant healthy old age compared to turning into a decrepit wreck?  Obviously I would prefer the former, but I would also prefer a hot fudge sundae when I’m not in the mood for Swiss chard.  So I find myself wondering how often I can ease up a bit and how much yummy vittles can I ingest?  Do I need to eat a bushel of kale to earn half a chocolate chip cookie?  What about the days when you just throw caution to the wind and eat pancakes for breakfast, pizza with a shake for lunch and meat and potatoes for dinner?  Can I expect to keel over one day as I enjoy that last forkful of key lime pie?   I want to be able to relax a bit without turning my body into a magnet for diabetes, cancer and morbid obesity.  I also   don’t want regard my dinner with fear,  yet the correlation between what we put into our mouth and how soon they put us into the ground seems irrefutable (unless you count the people who live to be 100 and insist they smoke cigars and chug a lug moonshine, but they are probably aliens.)

So the question I am asking myself is “What is my food philosophy?”  Am I eating to live or living to eat.  Eating to live sounds completely boring.  It’s akin to a vehicle requiring fuel so it can move.  I’m sure the car gets no pleasure out of being filled with gas.  It’s nothing more than a necessity, but I definitely do get pleasure from a mound of garlic mashed potatoes (hey, the garlic is healthy for sure, even though white potatoes used to make them tend to take a beating).

I guess I will just continue to use extra virgin olive oil and try to eat more fruits and veggies, but not freak out over chicken fried steak.  The Word of God reminds  us that these bodies are mortal and that bodily exercise profitith little when compared to feeding our souls with the bread of life.  Now that’s what I call comfort food!


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