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While reading JAMA over the breakfast bagels this morning I was reminded by the American Heart Association (or something like it) we should consume no more than 40g of sugar per day. When I returned home I got out the kitchen scale to eyeball the amount. Alas, 40g of table sugar is not much. There goes the summer sweets such as small chocolate cone and the otter pops.

It is difficult to eat the proper amount of salt, sugar, and what not.  This is an especially ticklish task as my monkey brain is in a dastardly alliance with my taste buds. They both adore nasty chips and the like. Limiting the lovelies in favor of a PC Mediterranean diet is no small feat if not impossible.

Each week the dears at Blue Apron send us three meal kits. The dinners are tasty, nutritious, and properly portioned – not like my men. I am the first to testify they are delicious and I feel virtuous in eating them. Afterwards my body screams in sharpened famine for more – particularly something with cheese.

The Personal Trainer wants me to ‘eat more’ to bulk up but I don’t think that means Big Macs and the like.*  There is only so much chicken breast and tins of tuna a man can take. Then the peanut butter and crackers call out their siren song.

In the end I wonder really if it is possible to eat ten servings of fruits and vegetables each day or whatever the number is nowadays and abjure sweets, salt, and alcohol. At least I am not going to Canada next year so I won’t get no Tim-bits.  I hear tell in SC and GA they have a lot of fried objects.  Oh the pain.


*Spo-fans may be interested to learn I have never had a Big-Mac. Or at least I don’t remember ever having one. I think it would be memorable if I had.


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