Give Me Liberty and Maybe a Ding Dong; Never Chard

 "How about Fruity Pebbles?"
"No."
"Sugar Pops?"
"No!"
"Watermelon, that's a fruit."
"Nothing with seeds!  How many times have we been over this??"

The blonde woman who has lately expressed an interest in keeping me healthy has categorically  diagnosed this scribe as just one more victim of Dunlop's disease, a hideous malady that preys on men of a certain age.  It presents  slowly and often is only discovered when adipose tissue orbiting a gentleman's equator breeches the ramparts of his britches causing his belly to "done lop" over his belt.  Frankly I can live with the affliction since it affords me a very nice snack tray that proves nearly indispensable during periods of extended World Series viewing.  Fritos, Doritos, and other essentials are right there just south of my nose and ready for loading into my eager and gaping maw.  Couple that with a Red Sox win over the arrogant and ever hideous Dodgers and I can die happy.

It's that dying thing that has Blondie in a dither.  Having recently converted to the diet prescribed by Dr. Steven R. Gundry in his book, The Plant Paradox, she is convinced that my increasing girth can be blamed on a weakness for food and beverages that actually taste good.  In his book, Dr. Gundry concludes that most of us are fat because we eat foods containing gluten and lectins, which coincidentally, are, it seems to me, the major delivery agents of all that is delicious and savory. You know you're in food prison when it's okay to eat a tomato, but only if it's peeled.  This guy is a menace.  I feel like calling the good doctor and hipping him to the fact that being THIN IS WHERE IT HAS BEEN whereas these days being FAT IS WHERE IT'S AT.  Have some beer and pretzels or maybe some pork rinds sawbones and live a little.

Pray for me as dinner time approaches in the Pacific time zone.  Looks like it's kale or Swiss chard or perhaps some hemp hearts on the menu tonight.  Luckily there's just enough time to nip out to the garage for an inventory of my forbidden foodstuffs stash.  A few Fritos and maybe a Ho Ho or Ding Dong should sustain me long enough to fake it through the gastronomic equivalent of an IRS audit or colonoscopy.  Right?

On Monday maybe I'll shop for new pants.  I'm thinking something in a "relaxed fit" this time.

Chard: approach with caution