I’m posting this because I’m hoping that my doctor might see it.
He’s been after me to change my eating habits. It’s the same old tiresome nanny-like refrain — eat less meat, and when you do eat meat, make it chicken or turkey, and try to eat more fish, and eat more leafy green vegetables. Lots more vegetables. Except in my case, the latter request means eat any leafy green vegetables, because I loathe them with every fiber of my being and typically avoid them like the plague. There are sound scientific reasons for doing so, and anyway you can plausibly argue that the U.S. Supreme Court, deep down, agrees with me.
But you have to listen to your doctor, don’t you? And when you’re past the double-nickel milestone, you feel like you really should listen to your doctor. You’re supposed to be wise and savvy at that point, and after all, you’re paying the guy. And who knows? Maybe with that M.D. degree he might actually have some useful insight into how I might actually be able to avoid the many appalling health calamities that routinely seem to strike down men my age.
So today, when I went out to lunch with an astonished associate from the firm, I ordered a salad. This is the first lunch salad I’ve ever ordered. In fact, it’s the first salad of any type I’ve ever ordered. In fact, it’s the first salad I’ve actually consumed. It was an arugula and spinach salad with cranberries and goat cheese and grilled butternut squash, with grilled chicken on the side to make it palatable and some kind of dressing.
And I ate every bit of it, Dr. Z! Every bit! Because I was hungry, and would have eaten the plate! Are you satisfied? Because I have to tell you that the entire time I was munching on the leafy green items that apparently are my failsafe ticket to long life, I was thinking of a cheeseburger.