It has been years now since I’ve eaten bread with a clear conscience.
Look, it doesn’t happen often, but I’m going to be straight up with you. I eat bread. Sometimes, when I’m really hung-over, I medically require a baked bean and cheese jaffle. Food taking ages in a restaurant? Well, I won’t say no to warm bread with real butter. (REAL BUTTER!) Or if I’m out at breakfast and my goddamn poached egg comes on a piece of goddamn bread, I am going to eat that bread because the thought of getting down the wobbly, jizzy bits of a poached egg unaided makes me want to gag.
So, there you go. I eat bread.
To tell this to some people is to admit is to admit to a dark and dirty sin. For some of the more hard-core Clean Eaters, admitting that I eat bread is like admitting I hate PETA, or think Putin is actually a really nice dude. Well, sit those bony Clean Eating asses down, because this is only going to get worse, y’all. Not only do I eat bread, I eat cheese too. I eat meat. Great hunks of it. With bloody juices dripping out. I eat salt and sugar too. I eat ice cream and McDonalds and a whole pizza to myself when I’m hung-over. So there. Put that in your Breville Vegetable Steamer and…uh, steam it.
It’s not news to anyone that ‘Clean Eating’ is the latest fad to sweep through the young and the impressionable. Whilst I think that it’s a phase that certainly could assist with our nation’s growing obesity epidemic, and it’s no where near as bad as say, the Perm Phase, or the 90’s Rave Revival Phase; I still am not down with Clean Eating. I think you’re all assholes.
I mean, geez, I tried. I made my zucchini pasta, I instagrammed the hell out of my zucchini pasta, I even smugly fielded questions on Facebook about my zucchini pasta. But you know what? I WAS HUNGRY. Zucchini pasta is nothing like the real thing. It is like how those people in Argentina were feeding steroids to rats and then selling them to unsuspecting customers as toy poodles. It’s just not the same. (As an aside, a rat on steroids looks a little bit like a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, and would make a lovely pet in my opinion.)
I need to establish a difference between the Real Clean Eaters and the Guilty Garbage Eaters. Real Clean Eaters actually cook and eat ‘clean’ food. They soak oats and poach chicken and cook exotic vegetabley things in the oven with things like Cayenne pepper and stuff like that. Most of them are a nutritionists or something equally as irritating. And to them, I bow my head and say Good On You. Because I’m telling you right now, that would be a tough life. Our country thanks you. You are the blessed few who occasionally inspire us to try and behave like less revolting human beings.
But as for the rest of you Guilty Garbage Eaters, we need to talk: I know exactly what’s going on here. You put up a photo of three and a half iceberg lettuce leaves and a hunk of uncooked broccoli and then try and convince me with hashtags like #dinner #cleaneats #healthy? NUH. You are a liar.
There is no way in the world a grown adult can function with some of the food I witness being uploaded as ‘meals.’ Do you know who eats like that? People who lived through the Irish Potato Famine, or small children under the age of five who are still colour coding their food choices. And the majority of Clean Eaters are neither of those things, although the behaviour of many could make them eligible for the latter.
For generations and generations, people have eaten things like bread, diary, meat and two-meat-extra-ham-cheesy-crust-pizza, and still survived to tell the tale. To deny ones self from basic food groups under the guise of any fad – be it Clean Eating, a fabricated intolerance or according to what is ‘natural’ – is garbage. Whilst I know firsthand that some food intolerances are totally real (I swear to god, I know some people who eat bread and are blocked up for days like Punt road on a Friday afternoon) most of you NOT eating bread, or JUST eating green things, are just being precious.
To those who wish to challenge me on this one, bring it on.
You will be issued with a fridge that has clear glass doors, so there ain’t no hiding those Tim Tams. Your house will be fitted out with CCTV and I will personally be watching from the other end, like a perverted Michelle Bridges, just waiting for you to slip up. And if your diet looks exactly the same as it does in your Instagram account, I will apologise and humbly reassess my bin diet. (Not really, but I will consider saying sorry. Maybe.) I am sick and tired of this bull Sims alternate universe that is Facebook, where everyone is busily propagating their ‘best’ self. Clean Eating is, quite simply, the newest way to establish yourself as not just the best, but better than YOU, you Mars Bar eating lard ass.
Well, I’m calling it.
Let’s turn this around, people. Screw clean eating. Screw chocolate protein powder. Screw vegan cheesecakes avocado cacao mousse and tofu scramble and raw vegan lasagne and whatever ungodly concoction you’re going to come up with next. I DON’T WANT TO KNOW. (Actually, I do really want to know logistically how you make raw vegan lasagne. That’s mind bending.)
In return, I’m going to fight back by uploading some of the disgusting bin food combinations I’ve come up with, and tag it #bineating just so you can see what it’s like to have your feed clogged up with this annoying Clean Eating jive. I’m going to put up pictures of Left-over Thai Food Toasted Sandwiches, and Ice Cream Bowl That I Couldn’t Finish That’s Melted With A Cigarette Butt In It. And when you are crying salt-less, sugar free tears, maybe you could consider easing up on the Clean Eating narrative. Because I know the ending, and it ain’t pretty. Basically it involves you, McDonalds, a hostage situation and your smacking cheeseburgers against your arms shrieking “Into my veins! Into my veins!”