Feeding Oneself: An Endless Nuisance

Dear Readers,
Will I disgust you if I confess that I hate feeding myself? Will I reveal that I am an entitled, revolting, unappreciative American if I tell you that I dread the infinite approach of noontime?

As a long time volunteer for liberal causes I’m a fully actualized ingrate. I know how many millions of people on earth would immediately want to murder me if they knew how I felt about procuring my own food. But, I know you understand.

You feel a guilty tug of empathy when you think back to your own recent lunch throes.

Quiznos has those new little sandwiches, but it’s over five blocks away. I got green meat at Subway, so that’s currently of the list. McDonald’s, Arby’s, Wendy’s and Burger King are out of the question, as I’m over the age of 28 and don’t hate myself that much. Au Bon Pan is stupidly over priced. Corner Bakery and Chipotle: I looked up the nutritional values of their menus and can never go back to either place (although I can eat both if I’m at a meeting or convention). Panera is also far away.

Getting food to prepare in the office kitchen is an option; but it requires two traffic lights, passing the scariest Streetwise guy, and then having to walk up and down the halls with frozen, then freshly microwaved food. Only really fit people feel comfortable doing that. Besides, Lean Cuisines et al. have a disturbing amount of sodium. I feel like my innards are being mutilated when I eat those.

Restaurant lunches leave me half-drunk, with pungent exclamation points of afternoon flatulence. I usually have to go into a frosted glass conference room, balance a phone on my shoulder as if I’m on an important conference call, and doze off. I set my alarm to go off at seven minute intervals, whereupon I jerk awake and yell into the mouthpiece “That’s unacceptable! I expected that two hours ago!” It’s an exhausting ruse.

If I wait until I’m really hungry to strategize, I’ll find myself wandering around the sidewalk in front of my office building. I’m troubled by fast food, junk food, frozen food, and expensive food. I know too much to be comfortable just indulging myself, and I love delicious food too much to deprive myself.

I don’t know what the solution is. I just know that lunch will arrive tomorrow, then dinner, and so on and so on and so on. I’ve stopped eating breakfast because I can’t handle three food based decisions a day. And while I’ll try my best to appreciate my privileged position as a whining American, I will curse each mealtime under my breath.