I love food. I am a top-notch, world-class, non-discriminatory eater. I eat lots of things. I do it every day. I eat breakfast, second breakfast, almost-lunch, lunch, dinner and snacks. And Taco Bueno. I eat sweet things, salty things, leftover things, fancy things and sometimes even things I drop on the floor. Don’t get your panties in a wad.
In effort to a) save money, and b) eat relatively healthily, I bring my lunch to work most days. Pretty standard stuff, really. A sandwich here, a Lean Cuisine there, some apples, Greek yogurt and pita chips and hummus sprinkled in between for good measure. It started innocently enough this afternoon.
But this day. This day was unlike any other.
Okay I know I said it started innocently enough this afternoon, but really I guess it started last night. I toiled, slaved and sweated for like, a gazillion hours all day over the crock pot yesterday (no chance of exaggeration there), to prepare spicy and savory buffalo chicken lettuce wraps for dinner. Yum yum delish.
I decided to take the leftovers for lunch at work. And hey, since I was feeling fancy, why not include a wedge salad? And perfect, I had some pita chips at my desk if when I got hungry in the afternoon.
Nope. Nope, nope, nope.
You know that office thing where everyone smells your lunch in the microwave and they trace it back to you and become simultaneously jealous of and also incredibly impressed with your Donna Reed-style culinary skills? That’s what I was going for.
All was going well. I wrapped up my delicious buffalo chicken into a freshly washed leaf of lettuce and thanked the good Lord for my scrumptious, bonele— wait, what the heck is that?
Okay, at least I thanked the Lord. Is it bad if I was doing it after I already took a bite? Maybe He was spiting me for biting before praying.
Just kidding Lord, I don’t really think that’s how it works.
There was a bone. I just bit into a bone. In my buffalo chicken lettuce wrap made with allegedly BONELESS chicken. Like seriously, who leaves bones in the chicken and then labels it “boneless” for some naïve, trusting customer to blindly consume with wild abandon?!
Some people just want to watch the world burn.
In case you don’t know, biting into bones is incredibly unappetizing. It’s the whole reason I don’t trust buffalo wings. Love the flavor, but how can I be sure what’s lurking underneath? Turns out I can’t. I thought boneless wings were safe, but this lunchtime experience just turned my whole world upside down.
Fine, I think. I’ll just move onto my salad. My nice, delicious, fancy wedge salad. Mmmm, salad.
Also nope. Who has two thumbs and brought the worst ever possible salad dressing? This girl.
I tried in vain to enjoy my beautifully handcrafted wedge salad with —gasp— Italian dressing. But it was wrong. So, so terribly wrong. Everyone knows that blue cheese is the only appropriate dressing for any self-respecting wedge salad.
This is literally the worst thing that ever happened to me.
I am nothing if not reasonable.
At least I have these pita chips. Those can get me through until dinner. Yum, dinner.
And that’s when I ingested a –somewhat alarmingly- huge mouthful of STALE pita chips.
Why is all the food out to get me?! I wailed. Silently. In my mind.
Lest you forget I am still at work while all this is happening. I still have to hide my crazy. Can’t wail out loud just yet.
The only reasonable conclusion to draw was that all food in my lunch box (yes, I still carry a lunch box) sought my imminent demise, and was not to be trusted.
You might think that this sounds like the beginnings of an excellent diet plan, but you’d be wrong. I paid a visit to our building’s deli and shamelessly scarfed two double-chocolate-chip brownies instead.
#YOLO. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.