Way back when Mr. Eos and I were just dating, we imagined a New Yorker-type cartoon: Picture a mailbox with, next to it, a couple of those little plastic boxes for your newspaper delivery. Only instead of saying “Times” or “Observer” or whatever, one of the newspaper boxes would be labeled “Life’s Little Ironies.”
Maybe it would sound funnier if I could draw.
But life is full of little ironies, isn’t it? One seems to be the crazy amount of unhealthy food I have been eating since starting this diet intended to make me healthier.
Tonight, for the first time ever, I cooked up a bag of frozen hash browns (“Ingredients: Potatoes”). Other staples now routine in the culinary repertory are potato chips (“Ingredients: Potatoes, canola oil, sea salt”) and turkey bacon.
Then there are the old stand-bys, in turbocharged quantities: fruit juice and an utterly insane amount of chocolate.
Truth is that my diet isn’t horrible. Looking back at my food log, most entries consist of things like salad, vegetable or lentil soups and stews, broiled fish, and fresh fruit. Still, it’s probably understandable to feel out of whack at this point.
The much bigger irony: That big lump in my throat as I went to swallow said hash browns and a bite of turkey meatball this evening at dinner, plus the achy feeling in my chest right now. Does it get much more ironic than sixty days of stringent adherence right down the drain?
I know there were no guarantees, but it’s hard not to feel discouraged after so much hard work. Six days to scope. Six days to savor life’s little ironies.