I have a love affair with bacon. My favorite breakfast is bacon with sprinkled sugar inside toasted and buttered Cuban bread (which, by the way, is doughy on the inside, crusty on the outside and made with lard. Yum!). I could eat this every morning and did for two glorious weeks until my son came home from college and threw my newly bought pack of thick sliced, maple glazed bacon in the garbage.
How dare he?
Mom it’s unhealthy, he said. But I like it, I answered almost in tears, scheming to salvage it from the trash as soon as his back was turned. It’s not good for you, Mom, he said, killing me by promptly emptying the garbage and taking it outside. Rats!
Who appointed him health inspector? That’s what I want to know.
As if making my life miserable wasn’t enough, he proceeded to eyeball my husband’s lunch for sodium, cholesterol, and fructose content. I don’t have to tell you where it all ended up.
You guys have to eat healthier, he reprimanded us.
With our heads bowed down and our morale on the floor, we promised to mend our ways. For the last month we have behaved. Sort of. (It’s not easy to hide the smell of bacon) Until today!
Luckily, he is out of town this weekend, and we are going to par-TAY!
