I can roll with a lot of things. I’m a grownup, I’m supposed to adapt and change, right? That’s what they say, anyway.
But adapting to certain things takes superhuman skill, an ability to accept circumstances that are almost unspeakable. I like to think I’m evolving, but occasionally something pops up that can only be met with a very impassioned that’s eeeeevil…
The yummy deliciousness of a strip that has just the right amount of crispiness. The way it perfectly compliments omelets or pancakes or a cheesy fried egg sandwich. The fact that cooking it makes your house smell heavenly for a days. Bacon.
I guess it’s pretty obvious that bacon is one of my favorite things, so you can imagine my shock when I was innocently scrolling through my Facebook feed one day and stumbled upon this dire pronouncement:
“The World Health Organization has deemed that processed meats – such as bacon, sausage, and hot dogs – can cause cancer…The conclusion puts processed meats in the same category of cancer risk as tobacco smoking and asbestos.”
This info spread like wildfire, so I’m sure many of you heard it as well. I thought I was used to learning the health risks of delicious foods, but there was something about this news that struck right at the heart of my guilty breakfast pleasures.
And deep in my soul I heard a voice cry out: that’s eeeeevil!!
You can’t take my bacon, dammit.
You’ve already taken full fat yogurt and milkshakes and red meat. Heavy cream sauces and every carb known to man. The bread I adore and too much sugar.
Bit by bit you’ve stripped away each tempting morsel, daring me to ignore your advice and lecturing that I’ll destroy my body with decadent eating habits. I’ve tried to be good. I’ve tried to make healthier food choices and limit the goodies.
But a girl’s gotta draw the line somewhere.
Looks like I’m drawing mine at bacon.