ME: Why does she have to memorize all these Body Mass Index equations and nutrient percentage ratios and shit? It’s driving her crazy. She wants to be a chef, not a nutritionist.
NUTRITIONIST: She needs to know how to prepare healthy meals.
ME: I’ve taken a look at the text, and the idea of any restaurant that’s not vegan or geared toward anorexics or old people with serious health issues preparing only optimally healthy recipes seems completely detached from reality. She just wants to make food that tastes awesome and doesn’t kill people right there at the table. A little less salt, a little more whole grain, maybe one less slice of bacon and we’re golden!*
NUTRITIONIST: Don’t you think that’s irresponsible? We all have to try to be as healthy as we possibly can!
NUTRITIONIST: To live longer, for one thing.
ME: Yay, I’m 100 and I’m jogging past the cemetery where all my friends are swaddled in the cool embrace of eternal rest. I’m lonely and I’m bitter and my body is its own infernal perpetual motion machine. Marvelous.
NUTRITIONIST: Okay, well, being healthy increases the quality of life.
ME: Whose? Insanely healthy people obsess about staying that way, and assuage their fears by making people who are out of shape feel like shit. Whose quality of life is improved?
Look, I’m not denying that we should all endeavor to better ourselves. I’m not all, like, right on, diabetes! But isn’t happiness more important than some arbitrarily conceived ideal balance of physiological percentages and chemical processes? I mean, 99% of the people I know with great bodies are insufferable jackasses, anyway.
NUTRITIONIST: I happen to have less than 2% body fat.**
ME: I rest my case.
[Crowd appears out of nowhere, stands up and cheers, carries me off on its collective shoulders while handing me craft beers and lit cigarettes.]
*My wife in no way approved this post. Obviously, she doesn’t want to kill you with food. She does, however, want you to really, really enjoy her food, without feeling guilty about it.
**I haven’t seen my wife’s Nutrition Professor, but if she doesn’t make Milla Jojovich look fat and can’t rip chain link asunder simply by moving her knees apart, she’s not drinking her own Kool-Aid.